Expensive city mini-break

written 3rd February

Unfortunately Seville was expensive, in more ways than one.  Arriving late, after a long-ish motorway drive and in the dark, we had a tip off about a motorhome home shop right out on the ring road on the far side of town which had a few spaces for touring people to stop in, and being tired and having no particular town centre destination in mind - too late for tourist office - we should just have gone there.  Instead, we decided to try and drive round a bit, whilst the traffic was not too horrendous and try and get our bearings - we really should know better by now.

Whilst trying to find a side road off a many-laned duel carriageway to turn into in order to turn round, Will took what looked like a likely road, marked with a road lane, which turned out to lead to a one way street (the wrong way) and a slip road which had an "no entry except buses and taxis" sign and a bus in it.  As we have a very dear friend who works in "parking solutions" (traffic wardens to the rest of us - their solution to you parking or driving where you shouldn't is to hunt you down and fine you ;) ), we do try not to do naughty things on the road, but in trying to reverse backwards very slightly to get back onto the main road, Will suddenly found his blind spot filled with black passat and crunch.  :(

fortunately, at low speed, no real damage was done, our bike pedals dented her bonnet and grill, her bonnet bent our rear bike wheels but no damage to Jules at all.  We didn't just slam into reverse so our reverse lights must have been showing before we moved and we don't know at what point she appeared in that space or whether she was stationary or moving as she was so close that her headlights were beneath our rear window but still, we were doing something a bit silly and were definitely moving so there you go.  She had a friend in the car who spoke english and they were both very "oh well, these things happen" about it - having since walked round Seville, and seen both the parking (apparently the trick to double parking is to leave your handbrake off so if you are in someone's way they can just push you out of it) and the cars (8/10 had some form of scrape, bump, ding, scratch etc etc)  this is probably fairly normal.  She had a "fill this form in if you have an accident" form in her car - required in "foreign" (according to our insurers) - and our insurers were rubbish.  The insurance certificate doesn't have a number to call on it, the cover letter from the broker does not have a number to call on it, the main enquiries number just says the office is closed and when I did finally get through to their 24h claims line (after having to ring home and ask my dad to look the number up on the internet!) they can take your details but can't actually access your file or any details about you because the computer system is only online between 9-5 - utterly ridiculous!  and then they don't call back when they say they will in the morning.

Anyway, all's well that end's well.  No harm done.  All sorted and in the hands of the insurance companies and we need do no more about it.  And at least I wasn't driving so I can be all understanding and "it could happen to anyone" rather than wracked with guilt and the butt of woman driver and spatial awareness comments (I am one and have none of the other ;))

So we gave up for the night found a side road to stop in and had a large comforting glass of cheap Offley port - which actually turns out to be rather nice.

in these situations you always end up with the 'what ifs' and the 'if onlys' ie 'if only we had gone straight to the aire de service rather than trying to drive through town in the dark when tired which we know will never end well' etc etc but we were thinking about this the other day - in happier circumstances - and how we have never been more aware about how little decisions and choices - or even lack of decisons and choices ie closed roads - can dramatically change history.  In "real life", there are outside influences and larger forces at work - family, work etc - which dictate your destiny.  ie, except in cases of food poisoning, it probably doesn't matter what you have for dinner, you will still have to go to work the following morning so your future is forced down a particular course.  In our little world however, these things do make a difference.  For example, we fancied bbq for dinner last Monday (in Sagres) but were also planning on moving on from Sagres to Lagos because we were bored of the feckless germans.  However, by the time we had bought bbq food and found some internet it was really late so we decided rather than press on to Lagos where we weren't sure if we could find somewhere to bbq (which we probably wouldn't have done, as it turns out), we decided to stay in Sagres and bbq and set off the following morning, and thus fell into the trouser leg of time which led to a coast road quest, a closed road with no marked diversion, a likely-looking dirt track, an evil sand genie and the best couple of days of our whole trip so far.  Because we spent two days there, we got to other places when we did, met the people we did and now have the recommendations for future travels that we do.  If we had not fancied bbq, we would have had van food in lagos, moved on up the coast much sooner, the butterfly would have flapped its wings at a different time and the whole course of history would have been different...  just makes you think how random life is, that's all

Anyway, enough philosophical ramblings, back to Seville. 

The next morning, we found we were actually quite close to the centre of town so set off on foot to find it and had a nice stroll through a park and past various impressive public buildings.  We easily found tourist office in the square at the foot of the Giralda tower - would not have got near it in the van even if we had known where we were going - the guy was extremely helpful, especially to our question "we don't have much money, what do you recommend?" and we came away with maps, walking tours, local area info, places to see Flamenco (which Will started calling flamingo and now I can't stop - if there aren't lines of tapdancing pink birds with top hats, bowties and canes or girls balancing flamingos on their hands as they dance I am going to be extremely disappointed... ;) ) and a list of bike rental places as we figured that they would at least know about bike servicing even if they couldn't help us themselves.

The initial bike quest led us through the commercial area to no avail, then through twisty back streets to the bus station where it initially looked as if the bike hire would be self-service bikes and credit card machines but then we spotted a little sign towards a dingy upstairs room (spiral staircase for people and winch through a window for bikes!) in the side of the bus station.  And they were really helpful!  proper mechanic place where it looks like they rescue old bikes then hire them out cheap.  guy in there didnt speak english but phoned the owner who did, they had the right wheel and would change Will's gear sprocket over as part of the price!  we hadn't investigated the full extent of bike damage by this point, so left, to return anon, happy that things were looking up.

being by now lunchtime, we wandered on in a vague quest for coffee and a sticky bun and found the famous bullring and the first Seville monument which was twice what we were prepared to pay.  Our usual trick to staying within budget is to decide on approach to somewhere roughly what we are prepared to pay for entrance and then, unless it looks significantly better or more worth going to than we thought, only go in if it comes under that.  We have been pleasantly surprised in some places (Planete Bordeaux, Tower of Hercules in A Coruna, Moorish castle in Silves, Castle in Seisimbra, anywhere on a sunday morning in portugal!) but unfortunately destined for disappointment in Seville.  The bullring was €6 each and whilst I am sure it would be interesting, we now had €50 of bike wheel to factor into the budget so decided to leave it (although we both agreed that we would probably watch a bullfight if it were the right season - not sure I actually agree with the practice but would want to see it once to make an informed decision... well you have to really)

Back to the main square for a spot of lunch at a sunny pavement cafe before deciding that €8 was also twice what we want to pay for a cathedral - even if it is apparently the third largest cathedral on Europe after the Vatican and St Paul's in London and I did quite want to go up the tower (Burgos at €5 was an exception as it was a personaly recommendation from someone we trust and by the time we had battled the elements we were not going to pass it by for the sake of a couple of euro!). 

The cathedral was apparently free for unemployed, which of course we are, but when we asked, she said she needed  proof, we asked what proof she needed and she couldn't tell us but as we couldn't think of anything either - other than forcing her to read the whole blog! - we left it and instead we set of on the first of three walking tours (Barrio St Cruz area, jewish quarter, Parque Maria Luisa), doging the horse and cart men and the lucky heather selling women, all of whom were out for our tourist euro.  The walking tours took us round historic Seville (ie many wiggly streets) and conveniently past most of the main tourist attractions (all €8-10 so all unvisited) and many closed churches and other significant buildings we couldn't get into, but the sun was shining, it was blue skies and orange trees everywhere and at about 20-22 degrees, it was jolly pleasant.

We also found another bike shop and a second visit to the tourist office got us an address for a Euromaster garage for a new exhaust - it has been rattling really badly since seisimbra where it lost its tailpipe and has sprung some new holes :( - not a question I gather they get asked often! (she was less helpful when I asked about places where Will might be able to get his hair cut and roughly what we might expect to pay to make sure we didn't get ripped off - her response was basically "well it depends where you go, if you go somewhere posh it will be more expensive"  well yes I can work that out for myself, I just want to have a rough idea of what to expect!)  Anyway, heading back to the van through the park - conveniently on a walking tour! - we set off to investigate the bike damage.  Will's bike wheel was quite egg shaped with a couple of broken spokes and mine was also wobbly but fortunately no other damage so Will thought he might be able to fix them both with new spokes and a spoke key - something we had intended to bring but just couldn't find in the garage in all the packing up fun.  Fortunately the suggested garage, second bike shop and LP-recommended cheap flamenco place were all close together so we set off for a new parking spot near to all three and due to the unique spanish lifestyle - open early, close for several hours for lunch, stay up late - the bike shop was still open.

Andalucia is the home of flamenco - having not been to the museum I can't tell you much but I believe it is of mixed gypsy/latin american origin - so no trip to Seville is complete without some.  Most of the tourist stuff is expensive, full-on, book in advance shows at €30+ per head but the LP sugested an informal bar in the Jewish quarter and the tourist office leaflet confirmed flamenco every night.  And it was good!

La Carboniere is a low key bar in in a converted coal house with no signs outside except an opening time.  We arrived at 10:45 - we are jetlagged from our border crossing so waking up later and staying up later, well that is my excuse! - to find flamenco started at 11pm, a couple of acoustic guitars and a singer in progress in the tiny front bar and long, bustling trestle tables under a corregated iron roof in the back bar.  We found a few people to chat to - an australian guy travelling for two weeks with his french friend and their hostal guide, a dutch girl who is travelling spain for a year with the intention of going out and getting wasted every night - the drinks weren't too expensive and the flamenco was two guys with guitars, a male singer and a very fierce looking girl dancer - I think the french guy fell in love, he spent his whole time with his jaw on the table and his toungue hanging out, mumbling "she is a powerful, powerful woman"... ;). 

There is clearly some back story we didn't get, the singer was pulling all sorts of overly dramatic, full on angsty faces and she was at first clapping along






and then dancing in her stampy footed, fierce way - basically using the floor as a percussion instrument - but it was all very good (apart from when they got pissed off that people were talking and stopped so that the guy on the guitar could shout at them for being inconsiderate)

no pink tap-dancing birds though... :(

Leaving the bar, and not fully adjusted to the time yet, we headed off into town where we were very surprised to find nothing open - ok so it was a tuesday (i think, so hard to keep track!) but we had always been lead to believe that the spanish were late night people and out every night! - but the irish bar was open so we settled in for a glass of wine and Will's favourite business travel past time of american baiting.  Apparently this is what he does when on business trips alone as there is usually also a lone american also in the bar, and will can usually get them going by dint of taking the opposite view from whatever they opine and thus a happy evening of bantering ensues.

On the evening in question, we found two americans from Atlanta on two week trip to spain who had just started depth charging (a shot glass of half baileys and half jamesons dropped into half a guiness then downed) and were well on the way to chatty inebriation.  Over the course of the next hour or so we found out their views on Bush ("I hate the b**tard and I voted for him"), Obama ("I hate the b**stard, I like his social policies but he's financially unconservative so I won't vote for him"), the second amendment ("no one can take away my god given right to own a gun.  I give $1,000 a year to ACLU to protect my right to protest peacefully and $1,000 a year to NRA so I can shoot 'em if I have to"), women ("never date a woman below a five or above an eight, don't get me wrong, I'll be friends and all with women below a five but above an eight they're just a whole load of trouble"), marriage ("never doing that again, whole load of trouble and now I have to pay her money for the kids") and that I apparently look like Tina Fay (american comidienne, famous recently for Sarah Palin takees offs) and he and Will had a spirited debate on the causes and consequences of the boston tea-party - just because millions of people are taught it in school like that, doesn't make it the correct version of events...

As I say, a happy evening all round, with the barman chipping in from time to time when the debate got a bit heated.  Eventually it was clear they were packing up so we all settled up (€5 for us for 2 wines, €75 for them for their state of merry sozzled-ness) and wandered into the night.

The next day saw us on our quest for new exhaust and mended bike wheels.  After two different garages, we were directed to a far off industrial estate and a boy racer stainless steel performance exhaust shop.  As usual, they spoke no english and we speak no spanish but eventally we were all on the same page.  They were initially confused by will's home fitted lamda sensor and reluctant to do away with the cat but eventually we  convinced them and left Jules up on ramps for the third time this trip and in their capable hands. 

Unfortunately, being without van means also being without a home, and all over the three hour lunch break too :(  oh well.  Will managed to fix my bike wheel with some spoke adjustment and we spent the rest of the day on a walking tour of shopoing centres and industrial estates of seville before returning to find a beautiful bespoke stainless steel silencer and tailpipe fitted and set off back to the original  bike shop for new wheel.  It is a straight through silencer with no cat so we sound like a proper growling beast now, but eventually, Will will fix the fuelling so the two litre engine will need all these performance bits... ;)

All in all, in lovely weather, as we had, Seville would be a perfect mini-break destination with plenty to do for a couple of days -  even if you don't have an exhast pipe and bike wheel to fix! - but to make it worth going, you really need at least €250 each spending money for sights, flamingo, meals, coffee and buns etc - maybe we'll come back one day...

Still, over budget and back on the road once more, this time to Chipiona, Cadiz and then some cheap days on the beach...

Musings at a Border

Written 1st february  

So, here we are, leaving Portugal, having somehow spent just over a month in a country I have never really considered before - which is not to my credit! - and it is our absolute favourite of the trip so far.

It may be a relatively small country - just a squared-off bite out of the corner of spain and by whom it was briefly occupied in a gap in royal succession - in a land which has been occupied many times over by different invaders since 700 AD - Celts, Phoenicians, Greeks, Romans, Moors - and which started out in c900 as a small kingdom in the north ceded from the spanish kingdom of  Leon, but it went from those small beginnings to great things.  It is packed with history and was as important and influencial in its hayday of the Discoveries as the uk, spain and holland.  Its empire and influence spanned the globe from west to east, from Brazil to Africa, India, China and Japan and its sailors, navigators and map makers changed the world.

We have been surprised and humbled by level of english spoken by all sorts of people, of all ages - even those in out of the way places - and to my shame, after a whole month, I can only manage 'good morning' (bom dia), 'good afternoon' (boa tarde), 'good night' (boa noite), 'two coffees please' (dois cafes por favour), 'the bill' (a conta), 'sorry' (desculpe) and 'thank you' (obrigado/a), - whilst all the time thinking of how I would try and say the same thing and more in spanish - before they interrupt me in perfect english. And the friendliness and helpfulness of everyone we have met, even those few with whom we haven't been able to actually communicate in words, has been incredible .

We have had the most relaxing month and in that whole time, there has been nothing we  have actively disliked or found difficult - with the exception of the one way system in Porto!

So, best place: has to be our deserted beach adventure - sands of doom notwithstanding!  Seisimbra is right up there too.

Best night out: Fado at A Baicu in Lisbon without a question.

Best meal: has to be at Taylors and their wine lodge was our favourite 'tourist' attraction 

Wierdest place: Chapel of Bones in Evora - not quite on the Dune de Pilat scale but pretty odd!

Most unexpected place: fire-hose showers in Figueira da Foz.

The Algarve has been a big surprise.  It is such a well-known cliché that you find yourself pre-judging the place before you even get there and tarring the whole 200-odd kms of coast with the same over-developed, expat-brit enclave, tourist-hell brush.  But although there is a lot of that, just round the corner, or on the edges or down that less trodden road, there are some wild and beautiful places here, just waiting to be found.  And even some of the resort stuff is nice and it certainly all has its place - whist I can't imagine myself staying and pottering my life away here - with or without a van! - I can certainly see how, if you aren't very careful and very self-disciplined, you easily find yourself doing just that as so many people do.  I have never seen such a huge number of motorhomes, they just are everywhere you turn, honestly wherever you think of going, someone else will already be parked up there - although presumably not at Praia de Furnes due to the narrow muddy road and ford! - but they are nice people, always happy to chat, lend a hand or provide suggestions and ideas and there is a nice sense of community - it is just nice.  Although quite what the locals actually make of it all I don't know!

And as a two-week winter sun, break from the ratrace, this would be perfect and we would/will come back.

But that is the thing, we are not in the ratrace,  and there is only so much "nice" we need at any one time and there is lots of world out there yet to see.

So, here we are, washing done, stocked up with port and gpl - the gpl was easy, port turned out, surprisingly, to be the tricky thing, no Taylors in this town so cheap Offley tawny in the cupboard instead - and on our way once more.

On and off the beaten track

Written 31st january 

The lp we have (Mediterranean Europe) includes a two week itinerary for portugal in which it suggests three or so days in the algarve, spending time in Lagos, Silves and Tavira.  We are also now on the trail of a magazine article I read in a donated copy of vw camper and bus where an english couple flew in and hired a fully kitted out westfalia van for a week - it was partly a freeby promotional for the company (siesta campers) but also included lots of lovely pics of nice places they went so seemed a reasonable source of inspiration for our next few days.

So, with all this in mind, we headed for Praia de Rocha, just south of Portimao.  It didn't look promising in the dark - the true awfullness of the over-developed algarve had seemingly not yet been fully revealed to us before this point - but we found a carpark with one other motorhome and some kids in campers and stopped.  It was only on a walk out after dinner that we found that we were actually perched on the very cliff top near some beach steps and the eponymous beach rocks were way down below us and very very impressive in the moonlight.

They were even more stunning in the sun the following morning, when we set off for a walk - unfortunately not early enough to beat the crowds and have the beach to ourselves, we still haven't fulfilled the getting up and getting on intention - but we have been somewhat spoilt in the deserted beach stakes recently!  

There were cliffs and freestanding rocky columns








and round hollowed out cliff caves, open to the sky above and it was rather lovely.

 We walked to the eastern end, where an exciting looking low roofed cave leads, rather disappointingly

to proper beach tat ugliness,

and then back westwards in the pretty bit, being passed by marine police in quadbikes - somewhat incongrously wearing full on puffer jackets and mufflers to talk to tourists in shorts or even just swimming costumes! - and picking up shells for the collection.

The tide was coming in by this point  so we had to wave dodge round the headland to get back to our steps and on beyond them, one bit of beach was already nearly cut off -

of course I couldn't resist wanting to know what was just round the next corner, misjudged my return wave and got thoroughly wet in the process

but it was all warm and all good fun :)

And we people watched all the way back - people are odd, we saw one couple who had come to the beach together and then sat themselves on a rock, as far away from each other as they could possibly be - why would you do that??  And a very slick looking guy walking down the steps, fag in one hand and open laptop with headphones plugged in in the other - he just walked down and then back up again after about five minutes - could he not last without itunes for long enough to not risk getting sand in his tiny, expensive looking laptop?? As I say, people are odd - other people that is, we are, of course, perfectly normal... ;)  

Beach done, we set off east again, this time to the tiny cove of Benagil where the magazine people had had a boat trip out through the caves which had apparently been the highlight of their trip.  We found the beach and the boat

but unfortunately not the boat driver, so only stopped for coffee and then beach picnic before moving on - shame as it was perfect calm boat weather if a little chilly when the sun went in, but not so bad budget-wise as, having spent more time at the back end of the van with the engine running in our beach escape effort, we have realised that we also need a new silencer as it is definitely a lot less silencing than it was... :(

Through a trawl of postcards, we have since discovered that there are other stunning looking rock formation beaches at Ponte da Piedade, Praia Donna Ana and Praia Tres Irmaos, near Lagos  and that you can get cave boat trips most of the year round from Lagos  - ho hum, something for another trip.  Note to self: use postcards for route planning more often in future!

Onwards and inland this time, to Silves, a walled castle town which was once the Moorish capital of the Algarve region circa 10th-13th centuries and which has a castle  and cathedral to enjoy.  

The castle is nice and inexpensive, with walls you can walk all the way round, a few bits of old pottery on display, some excavations (only explained in portuguese but seemingly lots of references to bathroom complexes!), a 1,300,000 litre rain water tank you can walk down into (now empty - seems modern engineers can't get it to hold water any more!) and a nice, landscaped "floating" café and water featured patio - would probably be both lovely and horrible in the heat of summer when the lake effort is actually full of water and it is packed full of sunshine and tourists....

The cathedral was under renovation so we set off in search of the tourist office and found instead the Centre for Interpretation for Islamic Heritage, or some such thing, which is apparently part of a joint effort between portugal, spain and morocco to preserve and promote understanding of the shared islamic history of these three countries, which  stems from the moorish occupation of the iberian peninsula which spread from the mediterranean coast to the far north western corner between 7-9AD before they were gradually forced out of power again between 10-12AD in a sweep south-east.  From what we can gather, at first this was relatively peacefull, a few forays with knights and the Moors were allowed to stay - hence Moorish communities in many towns - but later more violently  as part of the catholic reconquista, the western front of the crusades.

We learnt all this and much, much more from the guy in there, who was just a mine of non-stop information about this and other things including the castle, a moorish well (of unusual design -  a spiral staircase winding down the outside of it and connected to the well shaft with periodic "windows" - of which there are only a few other examples known in the world - including one in Cairo, the level of which is used as an early flood warning sign for the nile, and another in libya which also has a secret escape tunnel as part of the stairs arrangement), local building techniques (building using mud compressed by hand between planks - a bit like building with concrete today - rather bricks of pre-compressed mud.  Apparently to build like this you need two crazy people and a man with a limp.  The crazies bash the mud like mad to compact it, and the man with a limp fetches more bukets of mud but not too much too quickly which means the mud is properly compacted by the crazies between bucketfuls...), the Discoveries (and the important difference between a colony and an administered territory - which he mentioned a lot but I can't remember the distinction...), poetry, history you name it, we got it - and we only went in to ask for directions to the tourist office!  It must have been a very slow week :)

We also tried to go to the cork museum (which we didn't know existed until the guy told us about it and which we walked past twice due to lack of signage).  We eventually found it but it was apparently closed, although the door was open and there was a man on the desk, and he was unclear and unhelpful as to whether it would be open the following day or not, which is a shame as a peer in through the window showed all sorts of interesting looking machines and gadgets and it looked as if it would have been good - ho hum, things to do, places to go and Will is getting restless in this sunny land of doing nothing so we can't hang around in the off chance if it opening or not. 

We subsequently found its website which is all flashy graphics and only n portuguese , which says it got some 'best tourist museum' award in 2001, but no actual useful tourist information, like opening times.  I also stumbled across an article (not sure how old) saying it had been threatened with closure - well if you don't tell people where it is or when it is open, I am less than surprised...

We found the tourist office eventually but they looked at me blankly when I asked about cork forests as if to say " they're everywhere, what a stupid question"  - well that's as may be but if you don't know what you're looking for... - and also some free town wifi where an internet search for 'cork forests algarve' was equally useless but which did throw up some walking holiday company proposing a three centre Algarve walking holiday taking in Silves and the two 'beautiful and typical' inland villages of Alte and Querença.   As we had already decided to skip Albufeira and Faro - there are only so many beaches backed by hotel/appartment complexes we want to look at - this seemed as good a plan as any. 

So back on the road, inland for a bit, and in search of typical villages and actual cork forests - half the world's cork (or some such amount, would know if I could find a museum to tell me such useless trivia!) comes from portugal  so they must be somewhere!

We rocked up in Alte lateish and the first thing we came across was a road at the edge of town, behind the cemetary wall, with big spaces next to a nice sheltered wall, with the promise of a view in the daylight, and several other motorhomes already in situ - honestly  they are everywhere here!!  We have since discovered through the miracle of the interweb that wild camping is actually banned in the Algarve but it is tolerated, especially out of season - presumably it is tourist income when there would otherwise be very little  - but we have heard tell of people being moved on by the police and even fine notices turning up at peoples' home addresses but like all these things, I suspect it is all about how discrete, untidy and/or permanent you look...

Still, in the late morning sun (we were up late, they had all been out and back by then...), we met some nice british motorhomers to chat to and a pleasant couple of hours was passed. We have some great Croatia recommendations - just need to get on with getting there! - a new drink to try (Brandymel, Algarve specialty), confirmation that the silves cork museum is indeed good - from someone who has managed to go there twice!! must be a miracle... ;) -and a tip off that there are cork trees in Moniche in the western Algarve, an area we limped through, in the dark, a week ago in a poorly van so missed out on.  [Edit: we have since tried Brandymel and it was like pure honey, watered down with pure alcohol - slipped down very nicely with a lunchtime sticky bun in a sunny pavement café - scrummy but just too sweet to become a permanent addition to the tipple cupboard]

Alte is pretty and very nice for a wander - the principal attractions being two fontes (springs), the water of which apparently helps you live longer - or so said the 70-year old man who recommended the village to the people we met and who is about to set off walking from John O'Groatds to Lands End (he has already done it the other way) with just himself, a small rucksack, a small tent and a book of b&b's...  It may work for him but we didn't find which bit you are meant to drink from so will have to rely on wine and la dolce vita for our hopes of longevity ...



Still, as I say, all very nice and good company so could have spent longer and done some of the round walks they suggested but that's not going to get us to Croatia and beyond, so back on the road once more.

Querença was indeed pretty with a nice big white town square but not much more than a coffee stop, and then onwards towards Sao Bra de Alportel in search of cork forest.  We didn't find anything and after a detour via Fuzeta - mentioned by both the mag article and the brits in Alte and which would have been a nice place to stop, surrounded by nature reserve, if we had more time - down into Tavira.

Tavira is a nice town with a river running through the middle, a pretty bridge (and a couple of ugly ones), a couple of nice squares with pavement cafes and a restaurant recommended by the lp.  Having not eaten out since lisbon and with mobey in the budget we thought we would have a night out.  Unfortunately the restaurant (Bica), although busy with locals, was not as great as the review suggested (but it was ok and not too expensive and mum's porto guide book did say the food was better and with bigger portions in the north - we can't contradict this).  We did see a brilliant example of the two types of Brits who live here though; two ladies out for dinner, one obviously a longterm ex-pat and the other a newbie.  Long term lady struggles through an in-depth conversation in laboured, heavily accented Portuguese with the fluent english speaking waiter about the relative dry-ness of the cheap house white (he is struggling to understand her but perseveres.) whilst newbie resolutely orders in english.   They then have a conversation about newbie's new house which she is just beginning to furnish and it transpires that she hasn't found any portuguese furniture she likes so is going to go to Ikea in Seville, 'ah Sevill-ya' says long term lady, carefully accentuating the correct pronunciation 'it is pleasant there'.  'yes, Seville is lovely' says newbie.

It was a bit chilly for a pavement cafe and the only busy bar was the irish bar which was hosting a birthday party, so we didn't really get our night out, but we did find parking with internet so all good (Bill, if you do ever get here, it is on the west side of the river but in a one way street you can only enter by crossing the middle bridge from the east side and you need to stop just after the  bridge on the river side of the park - took us a while, some illegal parking for google maps and some reversing on a oneway corner to gett it!  Luckily it was late and quiet!)

A sunday morning stroll found us the castle - now a nicely done garden inside the remains of the walls

and signed everywhere except the crucial last few corners! - and the interweb found us the river road to Pego do Inferno - the route and waterfall suggested by the mag, and another cork museum, with an excellent independent review on someone's blog, and a cork area to try in Sao Bras de Alportel and surroundings.

We set off up the N379 on the east bank of the river and had a pleasant few k's following its meanders before finding the featured precarious bridge (more solid on top than than it looks from  below :) ),

orange orchards and the waterfall. 

I had found a review on trip advisor which warned of tumbledown, rickety steps, slippery rocks and poisonous spiders and snakes and advised people to stay away for their own safety.  As full on danger junkies and adventure seekers, we were somewhat disappointed to discover well-signed, well-maintained steps, firm river banks, the snake warning to be a 'local flora and fauna' info board which included rabbits (gotta watch those dangerous rabid bunnies...) and no mention of spiders - I am already crafting my response to that review... And the waterfall was pretty, although it was too cold for swimming which is the other main summer attraction for the pool - again, one to cone back for.
 
Onwards once more and we got to Sao Bras - once the capital of the cork industry -  and eventually found the museum of traditional Algarve life, which is housed in the former house of one of the town's captains of cork,  - again, only one sign way away elsewhere in the town and no visible sign at the actual place! - but despite the opening hours I found on the net which said it should be ooen, the gates were firmly locked and gated.  Oh well, destined not to know anything about cork

Without much hope, we set off in the footsteps of the blog writer on the N2 to Alportel and then off in the direction of Javali, heading for Parises, where she found cork trees.  I realise now that, with absolutely no prior knowledge of cork trees, I had been envisaging big, managed forests of towering, tall trees with big thick trunks - something like the redwood trees in Muir Woods just north of  San Francisco - and that had I actually thought about it any way whatsoever , I would have worked out that that sort of tree just would not survive in this climate and rocky soil type.   So really I should have been expecting the small, twisted scrubby trees in the wilderness we actually found, and we probably have driven past loads already :)

We pulled off the metalled road somewhere before reaching Javali following a miradouro sign  and, with no signs to say we shouldn't, set off up the dirt track and into the red-earthed scrub in search of adventure -

yes yes I know that Jules isn't really an off road beastie and that there were also no signs saying we shouldn't drive up cliff roads with ravines or on to sandy beaches

and that both of these quests for adventure very nearly ended badly but hey, if you worry too much about things you wouldn't get out of bed in the morning (for reasons other than laziness ... ;) ). 





And on this occasion, it paid off as we quickly found ourselves in a silent wilderness, surrounded by views and shaved cork trees.  

Well, silent apart from the racing quad bike and motorbike which took us somewhat by surprise!

The only things I do know about cork, are that the trees take between 25-40 years to grow before they are ready to produce cork and then are harvested only every 7-9 years.  In the algarve, it seems that they harvest every 9 years and number the trees accordingly after they have done it to show when it was done - once they get to 9 (which we think was this year) they go round again. 

The cork processing seems to involve some drying, some squashing, shaping and some 'improving' by tumbling in parafin - or so we gathered from the machines outside the cork museum but that is the extent of the knowledge I have gleaned to date.

We found trees in various stages of growth,

some piles of drying harvested cork, a great cork country drive and all in all, had a fab, free, cork day out!  Who needs museums anyway!

We are now in Castro Maxim, right on the spanish border, a place with a castle to explore tomorrow and where we were told we could do washing and have a shower.  We drove round for a bit, found the castle but were surprised not to see any motorhomes until we took the last unexplored street (it isn't a big place) and found a proper Aire de Service and the biggest ghetto so far!  I really don't know what they are all doing here - carpark residents must nearly outnumber house residents! But suits our needs for tonight so here we will stay.

We have also found the washing place, but whilst I will pay €2.50 if I have to for a warm shower - but I bet it won't be twice as good at Figueira da Foz! - I won't pay that to handwash my clothes in a concrete sink when for 50c more I can find a machine to do it!!

So, the plan tomorrow is; shower, castle, washing, a final stock up on gpl, fresh milk (not easily available in spain) and port (we have seen taylors in a town on the way here, for the first time in portugal, presumably specially for the english port drinkers!) and then Spain!

Be careful what you wish for...

written 28th January 2010

So after a final night in our beach view carpark and a final bbq - during which we got a bit fed up of the giggly (stoned,) genial german surfers who wandered over for a chat  just completely by coincidence at the same time our dinner was about to come off the bbq and stood around making polite conversation, much of which seemed to revolve around the fact that they had had pasta for three days running...  If they had at least bought a beer or two with them they might have got half a sausage! as it was we resolutely did not get the hints which were clanging to the floor around us and merely wished them and their pasta well until they gave up and went back to their vans and their German rock/metal music - so anyway, having had enough of Sagres, where middle aged english people and feckless german surfers hang out and there is a billboard on the side of a restuarant which says "heaven is where nothing ever happens" and headed on in a vaguely Lagos direction, and as is our usual wont, tried to find the smallest, wiggliest, clost to the beach road to do it, rather than the dull big red road.

And thus we found ourselves - through three conflicting maps, a closed road,  a no-signs diversion and a random turn when the road seemed to be going in the wrong direction - no where near where we wanted to be but at the near deserted beach of Praia de Furnes, just west of the small village of Figueira. 

The road was a little bit epic - we forded streams, squelched through mud puddles, mounted rocks etc etc en route - but nothing like the Seisimbra cliff road (much smaller cars than ours make the trip, I am probably over exagerating for dramatic effect, Bill you and Bear would be fine) and it was well worth the effort for the glorious cove in which we found ourselves, populated by only two fisherpeople and a crouching boy with an ipod - bit wierd - and beautiful golden sand with a stream running through it, rising orange cliffs, a cave or two and blue blue sea

"Oooh" we said, "wouldn't it be nice to stop here and realise our bbq on the beach dream", which we have now come close to but more bbq-with-a-view-of-the-beach-it's-not-far-just-over-there rather than actually on the beach thus far.

"I can grant you that wish" said the benevolent Genie of Inclination and Adventure with an enthusiastic smile, pinging into hitherto unknown existence in a small puff of sand.  "proceed forthwith to Lagos see what it is like, buy some food and return here tonight - it is simple!"

"I know" we said "why don't we go to Lagos, see what it is like, buy some food and come back!  It's not that far and it really is much nicer here than it was is Sagres, this would be lovely!"

So this is what we duly did, fording the river, splashing through the mud puddles, mounting the rocks, pushing through the long grass swish swish swish - no sorry, I remember, thats a bear hunt... :) - and I got my first lesson in nearly off road driving (keep the speed up in muddly puddles but slow down through deep rocky fords - most emphatically not the other way round.... and after a bit more little wiggly road, we got to Lagos and Intermarche and successfully foraged our dinner - pork belly, beef steak and prawns, a bbq first for us.  Will also bought the cheapest fishing rod he could find with dreams of catching his own dinner.   Personally I think the €20 would have been better spent on buying actual fish from the fish counter but as Will has spent the entire journey since bordeaux complaining that I wouldn't let him buy an antique chicken turner (which is lies as I said if he wanted to have one he could but he decided -rightly - that we didn't really need one and anyway, he can make one if he ever finishes fettling and needs a new project...) I gave in on this one figuring that catch something or not, it will make a good story...

Lagos is much bigger than Sagres, has a fort (unvisited), a walled old bit with wiggly streets, a not walled new bit with lots of high rise apartment blocks, a cultural centre with cafe and free wifi and is a bit pretty and alright for a wander for an hour or so but really nothing special.  So, internetting done, food bought, and the sun begining to set, we set off back in search of beach bbq nirvana.

We got back just after sunset to find the beach deserted and, seeing big rocks in the way of where we had walked before, forded the stream again, where clearly vehicles go, if only those which empty the bins on that side of the stream.   We got to a high spot, just behind the bins and nearly stopped, when "You don't want to stop here!" said the Genie of Inclination and Adventure, benevolently but with a slightly maniacal grin, "this isn't on the beach!  'we got all the way down here and then stopped on a dune with a view of the bins and carried the bbq to the beach' isn't really the beach sleeping dream, what sort of story will that make for the good people back home?  eh eh??"  

"No!" we said, "we can't stop here, not when we are so close to realising our actual sleep on the beach dream, won't it be lovely!"  so we headed off back down to the side of the river, down through the small stones and on to the sand to avoid the big, exhaust pipe ripping off ones.  We were just contemplating where the high tide line might be and which way round we wanted to face when, with a cough and a splutter, Jules stopped.

"muhahahahahaha!"  said the now clearly malevolent Genie of Inclination and (Mis-)Adventure with a gleeful evil grin "you said you wanted to stop on the beach!  you didn't specify anything about leaving the beach again!  you should think more carefully about what you wish for in future!"  and promptly vanished again in a swirl of sand, abandoning us, stuck, a foot deep in sand and going nowhere fast.

I would like to be able to tell you that it was all fine, with a full moon and clear starlit sky, we didn't need the torches, we chocked the wheels with some handy rocks and drove away - but that would only be 50% true (the bits about the moon, the stars and the torches and the bit about the rocks, not the bits about driving away and it being fine).  

I would then like to be able to tell you that by the light of this same moon, we jacked Jules up on some driftwood, put some rocks right under the wheels, drove away and it was all fine  - again, only 60% true - the bits about the moon, the jacking and the rocks...

I would then like to be able to tell you that we jacked the van up, built an entire road of rocks and drove away into the moonlight - 66.66% true - you can guess which bits....

The pictures only show it after lots of digging out, at one point, the wheels were half buried and the exhaust was resting on a rock which was looking threateningly at the gearbox if we did managed to move forward...

Still, through Will's heroic jacking and rock laying efforts and my rock gathering contribution, we were footing (a bit more progress per jack and rock effort than inching but not much) forward with every go until, disaster, the driftwood snapped and the jack exploded into its constituent parts of twisted, mangled metal and all seemed lost...  ironically, we think it was only held together by years of neglect, Will's attempt at protecting it from the sand with application of WD40 was probably its undoing :(  

The jack has also damaged the paintwork slightly  but it is all out of necessity and nothing which can't be fixed - good job we are not driving some pristine, perfect van - would have cost us hundreds in respray costs... ;)

But never fear, Will has another jack for just such eventualities - an inferior scissor jack which doesn't really get high enough but is better than nothing - and had thought of a new plan of using our fold flat beach seats (an adventure present from Jim and Elissa which we nearly didn't bring due to lack of space and already having fold up chairs but which have actually been really useful for sitting on cliff tops, beaches and the side of the van, very comfortable and which double as car seat covers!) so all was not lost again...

...until the really badly designed windy handle on that jack sheered off and we seemed to be irrevocably stuck.  Will took the hacksaws (one blunt, one twisted) to the jackwinder and made enough flat edges to be able to jerryrig the enomous AJ and the big screwdriver as a makeshift winder so we got a bit further with jacking and rocks and seat laying before, at midnight, after 6 hours and about 10m progress, and with the tide in and the river now risen to only a foot or so from our front wheels, we decided to do what we should have done a couple of hours previously and stopped and went in for a mug of comforting hot chocolate, and settled in for the night, still stuck in the Sands of Doom, to dream of sinking sand, wet feet and little vans floating over the seas to africa and hoping it would look better in the morning.

Which, with the sun shining, the tide out again, and finding that none of our nightmares had come true, it did.  Although Jules still looked very sad :(

and very stuck

Will fixed the proper jack, by bashing it with two large rocks - there was some precision application of screwdrivers etc as well but it was mostly rocks and bashing - we scavenged a solid crate-side among the driftwood to use as a jack stand and even better 4 large pieces of 5mm MDF from a nearby abandoned ruin of a building and we figured that; we had 2 days worth of proper food (we had cooked some bbq but not all of it and hadn't really appreciated it the previous evening), 4 days if you count the emergency pasta, enough beer in the fridge for 3 days, we weren't that far by bike from civilisation and anyway, we knew a German in Sagres who owed us a favour.... and it was all looking up! - or so we reasoned to the scottish dog walking man who came over to see if we were ok but couldn't really offer anything more useful than moral support.  He asked how we got there, we said "we were looking for adventure", he laughed :)

With all these new-found things and optimism, I emptied the van of heavy things, Will jacked up the van once again, we wedged the mdf under the wheels, and, although expecting to only go a few feet, Will started it up, and clever Jules got all the way to the firm sand, round the corner before falling in the stream and out!  Hurrah!!  It is a very patient and tolerant little van, and it does try very, very hard to persevere, despite everything we put it through :) 

This is how far we had got the previous night, Will is standing where the rear wheels first sunk - ie not far

And Jules was a happy van again!

We celebrated our triumphant conquest over the Sands of Doom with a lovely beer

and a paddle (yes, silly face - the water was colder then I thought!)

before moving Jules back up to the dune behind the bins - which weren't so bad really,

and we set of for a swim in the sea.  Well, more of a deep paddle, feet didn't leave the ground except when I got swept off them and ended up all wet, even the silly hat!  There was lots of squealing and giggling and it was all a lot of fun and not too cold - swimming in the atlantic in january, who would have thought! - and it was simply glorious.

And Will has his, heroic saving-the-day-from-complete-disaster-using-only-found-objects story - which, as I said before we left, he wouldn't be happy without and so far, he has not saved the day with found objects, only those which he packed for such eventualities - I do keep saying, "oh it's lucky we happened to have that" to which he says "yes that is exactly why we do have that packed"... he is very good - which just isn't the same... Still, we have that story now, lets hope there aren't too many more... :)

We had actually been saying, only earlier the previous day, that the Algarve, such as we have seen of it so far, is very pleasant, but that is a bit damning with faint praise.  People seem to come here and just stop and whilst its perfectly nice, that's about it.  Which would be perfect for a two week, escape the ratrace, winter sun holiday but is a bit too full of brits and over developed for us on this particular adventure.  And on the subject of the above-mentioned  restaurant billboard sign, which was also part of the earlier, pre-sands of doom conversation, we both agree that you can only really appreciate true, perfect happiness - as we so frequently have on this trip so far - if you occasionally have some adversity as a comparison - which we have fortunately had less of :)  Or to quote Moliere: "unbroken happiness is a bore; it should have ups and downs"

We spent the rest of the day happily in the sun, sitting or pottering around and solar showering - solar shower had spent the day propped up in full sun on Jules'  reflective sun shades - everything we carry has a dual purpose! - and was properly, properly hot this time, like a shower at home, was lovely! - and collecting driftwod for our fire,






which was how we spent the evening, and how we cooked the remains of our bbq food

 - prawns  were a happy success too, it is amazing how they go grey to pink!, will try that again!

Will did try a bit of fishing but couldn't get close enough to the sea without risking his life getting washed off the rocks and then cracked the float by practiceing casting on the beach, so we have left that for another day....

Today has been much the same, book reading beach laziness for me, followed by a cliffside scramble

and clifftop walk,








whilst Will, having a lower tolerance for lazing and not enough battery life for computer based fettling - we need a solar panel for this beach life really but nowhere to put it, we can only just squeeze under 2.2 height restrictions as it is - fixed the lights, which have been blowing fuses for ages and has had some form of temporary fix for the last x hundred miles, as well as some other diy jobs.  And it has all been lovely.

But, we have had enough of this perfection for now, and need water and electricity generation so we are back on the road once more, charging the batteries and in search of adventures and pastures new...

there are pix now BTW :)

Half a week and half a country away.

Written 25th January 

Estremoz was, unfortunately, nothing special.  It is a marble town with a 13th century hilltop fortress and an old walled town, set in the hills of Alto Alejanto and was only really on the itinerary as a stopping point on the way north to the walled towns of Castelo de Vide and Marvao further north. But we have decided that there are only so many walled towns we can really fit into the schedule and that one 3,000 feet up, although undoubtedly spectacular, is probably not where we really want to be at this time of year...  And a 160km detour north and away from our stated Algarve goal is more than our petrol budget can take right now. :)

Arriving late, we found a huge, well-lit car park, with another motor home already installed, right in the centre of town that also had wifi - excellent! - but as walled cities go, we have been to better and prettier and we didn't fancy any of the museums. Not to worry, we have lots of other places to see. 

The only quite interesting thing it does have is an actual scale model of the solar system - one of only two in Europe - where not only are the  planets in correct scale but the orbits are too.

Due to the distances involved, and the fact that they wanted the sun outside the Estremoz science museum and Pluto in a particular location elsewhere, the sun is represented by a disc 3-4 metres in diametre,

Mercury is a sphere the size of a smallish marble located on the far side of the car park,

Venus, the Earth and Saturn are elsewhere in the town, and the other planets are in other towns in the surrounding countryside with Pluto being outside the chapel in Evoramonte some 7.5 kms away.  We only found the sun and mercury and weren't sufficiently bothered to go find the others but it is not something I have seen anywhere before so there you go.  

Onwards once more, in the late afternoon sun, to Evora, a university city stuffed with history, from the remains of a Roman temple, a mediaeval gothic cathedral - apparently the largest cathedral in Portugal  - 14th century town walls and best of all, a 17th century Franciscan chapel of bones -

literally built out of human bones and constructed by raiding all the town's cemetaries so that the Franciscans could meditate and contemplate the human condition - and it is brilliant, if not just a little creepy, including the inscription above the door which reads "We bones that are here we are waiting for yours" - propoer spooky stuff!

The university was only the second established in Portugal - after Coimbra - and students could study theology, science, maths and rhetoric  - whatever that is! - but although it was founded in the 16th century, it was closed in the 18th century when the franciscans were expelled from the city and not reopened until 1979 - history does not relate what they did to warrant expulsion or what happened to the buildings in those intervening 200-odd years - well at least not the history we had which we got from an audio tour from the tourist office which was informative, if a bit like being on in a tour group with an enthusiastic simpleton who can't stop asking questions and a very patient if patronising tour guide - no baftas would be awarded for this piece of audio drama... ;)  it was an entertaining way to spend a morning at least :)

But we have had enough of chilly cities and cold hilltop towns, and, having been thoroughly spoilt by Seisimbra, we decided that warm beaches are where we really want to be so off we set southwards once more.

I was driving this leg as Will wanted fettling time on the laptop and we have discovered that Seisimbra's cliff road was more unkind to poor Jules than we realised and with no power, even on the gentlest slopes, a tendancy to judder and stall and a complete inability to start again once stalled - which usually manifested itself on narrow, uphill streets in towns with cars behind and many amused onlookers - may all their cars be cursed - it was not a happy bunny :( poor little van.  We have also lost the exhaust tailpipe off the end of the silencer - presumably left in a clifftop ravine somewhere - not vital but we are now venting exhaust sideways not backwards and I can only imagime the effect this lack of forward thrust is having on our top speed... I am only half joking, apparently it was by repositioning the exhast on the engines from sideways to backwards that the spitfire engineers got the extra 70lbs of thrust they needed to get to a top speed of 380mph, so there! - not that Jules can really be compared to a spitfire I know - I mean we have a fridge and a kettle and movies, they didn't even have an in-flight magazine! - but every little helps... ;)  

Anyway, after the single longest and most miserable journey of our travels so far through a land devoid of petrol stations, supermarkets and even proper road surfaces (in one county the main N-road was cobbles - cobbles!! - for bloody miles!) the three of us eventually limped, late, into Sagres at the south-western tip of Portugal and stopped.

The next day, we stayed in bed whilst it rained and got up with the sun to find ourselves facing the sea and surrounded by other vans.  Making the most of the weather we set off on our bikes to the famous fortress where alledgedly Henry the Navigator founded his navigation school and therefore single handedly enabled the portuguese sailors to be able to take full advantage of the prevailing winds to set off on their journeys without having to stick by the coasts in order to know where they were and thus setting the wheels (or sails) in motion for the Discoveries.  

On arriving, we found that, once again, being a Sunday morning, it was free and also that we could take our bikes in and cycle round - brilliant!  

Just a side note - if you ever go to Portugal, remember that most museums and other things of interest are free on a sunday 10am-2pm, they won't tell you this on most signs or tourist info as they will want you to sleep in after a night spending your tourist euro in one of their fine restaurants and then spend more tourist euro going in things which locals get for free by dint of getting up - not unreasonable but worth planning around...

Anyway, whether or not Henry was ever there, the Sagres fort is brilliant on a clear sunny day.  It is right where the land turns a corner from west to south - nearby Cabo Sao Vincente is the most south-western tip of mainland europe - and is a foot of land sticking out into the sea with the fortress as a a kind of heavy-duty stone ankle bracelet at the narrowest point.

Beyond the fort, it is largely a vast expanse of wild land, with various exhibits about the history of sailing, world maps and navigation and also some stuff about renewable energy.    

Did you know, for example, that port and starboard on boats are so named because in sailing down the atlantic - which is where the prevailing winds and currents took boats at the time of Henry - the left side would face the ports and home whereas the right side faced the unknown and adventure - hence port and starboard respectively.  And that the green starboard light represents hope and discovery and the red port light signifies heart and health?  I didn't!

And it was great for cycling round in the sun - if a bit windy!  Back to the van and Will set about cheering poor Jules up, discovering that our problems were caused by a combination of; loose leads, incorrect timing, an unoiled (although new) distributor, a dwell of virtually nothing and the dislodging of a small, yet apparently vital piece of pencil lead which is all that stands between us and non-starting, non-runnng disaster...  No, I didn't know about this either, and on balance, I preferred it when I believed the whole thing ran by magic due to pixies on bicycles, or maybe hamsters... ;)

It turns out, that one of the features  of the space-age technology with which our van is equipped  - think carefully about that, it isn't as good as it first sounds... - is an airflow sensor which works by a flap which is in the air intake and which is connected to a wiper which runs over a variable resistor, the reading of which tells the fuel injectors how much fuel is required for the correct air/fuel mix.  Not only is this piece of technical wizardry specific to vw campervans, it is specific to vw campervans made in the US (but importantly not california) between 1977 and 1978... And is therefore expensive, virtually irreplaceable, and in our particular case, wearing out... Leading to inefficient fuel consumption and lumpy driving.

It is this that Will is working to bypass with some of his fettling - basically using a modern airflow sensor and a chip, the processing power of which would have taken a computer the size of a small room back when Jules was built, to brute force override this miracle of cutting-edge-as-it-was-at-the-time technology - the original engineers would be weeping!

Anyhoo, the small (approx 2mm long), yet perfectly fashioned (there are carved notches) piece of pencil lead - which I knew nothing about and which has apparently been in place since cambridge - sits under the two prongs of the wiper, creating a smooth sweep across the track of the variable resistor which simultaneously improves the connection to the track and smooths out the worn out bits - needless to state this is only a temporary fix until the "project" is finished...

So crisis averted as we have pencils and knives, grease, a timing gun  - we are once again very grateful to Austin for the lend of his spare timing gun, it has proved a vital thing! - and all the requisite spanners and screwdrivers to deal with all these eventualities - honestly, it is a testament to Jules' perseverance in the face of adversity  and the standard of vw engineering that we even got here with that list of things wrong! - so they were soon fixed, whilst I painted daisies and got chatting to two australian lads, who were on a three day surfing break from london however they had arrived but easyjet had neglected to send their surfboards so had spent 2 days staring at the sea and hoping the boards would arrive in time for at least an hours surfing (apparently they couldn't hire exactly the right boards out here - I don't know, I don't understand surfing, isn't a board a board?? How picky do you need to be if it is a choice between some surfing and no surfing??) before their monday flight home. They circled some places in italy on our map from a previous three month road trip and donated us the remains of their lunch that they had bought from lidl and were about to throw away (bread, sausages, cheese and jars of olives and pickled peppers), and then we were back on the road as if in a new van and on the way to lidl for bbq supplies.  The dream is still alive!

I am not sure quite how I got the dubious pleasure of the longest drive with the most unhappy van and have insisted I get another go now it is better but I do at least find driving much less stressful than Will does as I am largely oblivious to little indicators to things which might be going terribly wrong and therefore don't worry about them and I am blissfully unaware of the knife edge on which we are apparently balanced between going and stopped...  Just turn the radio up I say - if you can't hear a problem, it ain't there... ;)

Today, after a nice chat with an irish couple on the beach about life, vans and winters in Portugal - they have cone here for short winter sun holidays for 4 years running now and up to yesterday have had the worst weather of any year and just when they have to think about leaving, it is finally set to be sunny! - we cycled the 5.5kms of cliff top road to Cabo Sao Vincente - the aforementioned most south-westerly point of mainland europe - in the sun only to find that all there was were three white transit vans with trestle tables outside selling tat and alpaca wool ponchos - it is not the weather for a woolly poncho! -

the light house closed with a big barred gate, no way round the outside of it and many other bemused tourists - mostly in motor homes, honestly you get them at every turn here! -wondering quite why they were there and what to now they were.  Not even an icecream to be had!  But still better than the temple to consumerism that is lands end...










So we cycled back - freewheeling downhill with the wind behind us most of the way wheeeeee! - and were about to settle in to some fettling in the sun when a genial german surfer loped over to us, clutching a car radio and said that an english speaking couple in a van at the top had said that we might be the right people to talk to about why his radio didn't work.  He had apparently got it from a friend and tried to fit it but it blew a fuse so he put a bigger fuse in and it blew that, repeat up to 30amps and now he was stuck... 

Well we are obviously always looking to chat to new people - he is on a break from an architecture degree and has convinced his lecturers that a road trip round europe to study different styles of architecture is a valid reason to do this but has in reality spent two month surfing and smoking pot in Sagres... :) - and opportunities to build up our busma so Will set to whilst we all had a beer and eventually, through judicious use of multimeter and complete disassembly of the radio  (I have never seen the insides of a car radio before, it is very complicated!) tracked the problem down to a cooked diode, ironically the one which is meant to blow a fuse if the radio is connected up the wrong way round so as to protect the radio - which Woller admitted he may have done, who knows - and so had actally admirably done its job before being goaded into self destruction by continual application of bigger fuses...  

Fortunately Will was able to replace it with a spare one we have lying around - as you do! - and fit the thing correctly into the spaghetti wiring of Woller's van - Woller can't test it as his speakers don't work for some reason and he is hoping to buy some external computer ones at a market next week as replacements - but he is at least one step closer to music and as he said, he just can't play his guitar whilst driving...

So, here we are, surrounded by german surfers - two more sets have just pulled up - with the sunsetting on another sucessful day - Will's PIC program might finally be doing the right thing! - and off to Lagos tomorrow for a change of scene.

ttfn xx

Living the dream

written 21st January

We are once again indebted to Bill for, by following another of his suggestions, we have had the most idyllic couple of days in Seisimbra.

Arriving late after a nightmare journey from Lisbon - 3h to get 40kms - getting lost, nearly running out of petrol, inadequate road signage etc etc.  We pulled up just past the port area of a seemingly dead end road and just stopped.

In the morning, leaving Jules at the port, and after a spot of much needed bike maintenance - we haven't used them since San Sebastian and they have been out in the rain and snow for over a month - we rode off into the town.  where we found a helpful tourist lady, lots of free brochures and maps - including one of the whole of portugal as the enlightened tourist industry have decided that for people to get here, they ought to know how! - the promise of free fortresses and castles and directions to the market.

Promptly abandoning any consideration for a cheap week - we have been discussing this and we feel we are treading very lightly on local communities on this trip - possibly a bit too lightly.  Usually on holiday we pay to stay in campsites and we try and eat local food from local shops both to support them ard because the food is nicer - but we are significantly more budget conscious than usual on these adventures so are parking for free and tending to shop at big supermarkets where things are cheaper - which is a shame but is keeping the dream alive.  Anyway in warm  sunshine - the warmest we have had for a very long while, Seisimbra felt very holiday like so we dived on in to the market for vegetables, two sorts of cheese - an orange rinded one I tried in Porto and some homemade ricotta which is a local speciality and which she let us try by feeding us great big teaspoons of - mmm delicious! - And thence to the butchers for a massive meat feast of chicken legs and cow belly steak - his particular recomendation - before a wander through the sun-drenched white streets in search of a sticky breakfast bun to eat perched on the sea wall - proper holiday stuff!  

Back to the van and we found that what we had thought was a dead end was actually the start of a gravel cliff track - although in places really worn down by rain, think full on ravines not just slight erosion! The midget would not have got up there, even Jules which has ridiculous amounts of ground clearance grounded out one point! - for once terrain it is better suited for than the midge! Although I use the word 'suited' very very lightly indeed... :)  -

any way our worthy steed got us to the top and the view down over the cliffs to sea was simply stunning and so peaceful with just at puttering of the fishing boats and the cries  of the seagulls chasing them.  it was so quiet, we could even hear the fishermen calling to each other on the boats way down below - just magic!


And so we stayed for two days in our little bit of heaven, watching the sun rising and setting on both days.

Will fettled and I did paintwork - finally as dreamt about, paintwork on a Portuguese cliff top, with wine in the setting sun! - even so warm in the sun that the sundress and silly hat came out!

Daisies

and restoration the white stripe on the front on the first day,













wet sanding the driver's side yesterday and blue painting this morning before we left. I finished my half can of blue paint which came with the van so sprayed the big panels and apart from a slight colour match issue and some unfortunately illconsidered and lazy masking, it all looks pretty good - well at least much better!

 








Will also got his dream - finally a sea view out of our mezzanine floor(!) windows

and we had two bbqs, meat the first night accompanied by new year  fizz








and sagres beer with fresh caught sole from the port on the second. 

Christened Fish Vasco in honour of the Discoveries (as they call their empire building) he was cooked whole in foil with white wine, onions, galic and honey and served with sliced potatoes, also cooked in foil, with garlic and olive oil - fish and chips portguese cliff top style! 

We also got our first chance at a proper solar shower - Biarritz doesn't really count! - and after leaving the water basking in the sun for two days, it was lovely and warm so thank you Vicky for the suggestion  - not one we would have thought of our selves - and 'so there!' to every one who laughed at and disbelieved us back in cold old England :) 

We finally dragged ourselves away from our cliff top idyll late this afternoon and set off by way of the castle, a small yet perfectly formed cliff top fortress built when Sesimbra was granted its charter in 1200-something after the land was won back from the Moors and which has two interesting exhibitions,



a lovely wall for walking on, great views - we could see all the way north tho the bridges of Lisbon! - and an attractive entry fee of nothing - brilliant.  one of the best castles we have so far been to!








We are now headed eastwards and upwards, inland towards Evora and Estremoz in search of walled cities.

Truly, living the dream!