portugal through spain towards france

I stocked up with stores and provisions for the future at the local market and shops, treated Percy to two new tyres (much cheaper than in france) before heading off once again.  Through the hills of Sierra d’Estrella, across the border into Spain.  

It was the first time that I had been in Percy alone since leaving the UK which made it kind of strange for the first day or so.  No one to chat to or marvel at the scenery, no one to map read or program the sat nav.  On the other hand it was peaceful and there was no one to explain to when I took unplanned diversions or stopped for an hour or too to look as wood burning stoves, agricultural machinery and second hand junk. 

Spain passed quickly, with one overnight stop in Bergos, somewhere I would happily visit again, though apart from that, not the most interesting route.  I shared it with a huge quantity of trucks, mainly portuguese, heading in the same direction, up to northern europe with their cargos of goods.  I was glad to get the main part of the journey behind me and return to france.  

Next stop the beach for a few days, a little pause to gather my thoughts, enjoy the last dregs of summer and hopefully get a final dip in the sea before winter.

evidence of a recent forest fire

well burned but with a little regrowth

Percy taking a break after a long climb

road and rail pass through a huge gorge

back on the flat........again

suburban apartment blocks ( could be anywhere in (Spain)

crossing the border

I did hesitate, when entering Portugal, whether to follow the estrageros (foreigners) instructions and log my credit card for the automatic tolls but I’m glad that I did.  Three days ago, as I left the country, the border police took my passport and registration documents and checked that all was in order before letting me leave.  I cannot imagine the amount of hassle that would have caused, all for fifteen or so quid I spent.  You put in your card, the machine has already read your registration plate and it gives you a receipt.  As you travel the motorways, the vehicle passes under camera gantries that automatically note that it is your vehicle and deduct the appropriate (displayed) amount from your card.  No slowing and stopping at a toll gate, no scrambling for change and clambering to the wrong side of the cab to pay, no wondering if the barrier will close too soon.  You just drive and it automatically does the rest.  Big brother is watching you all the way.

I digress.

and on and on and on

memories of portugal

I couldn't capture the brilliant, star filled night skies

or the absolute silence of the valley

but these are a few of the views that I did....

sunset from the hills

a whole ear of corn sprouting after a shower of rain

container gardening with a difference

the local village to my brothers house

Me, Dad and Windy (Peter)

the river beach at Açor

reflections

coimbra in the rain

wet, wet, wet

chilling war memorial 

avenue gardens

botanical gardens

botanical gardens

university live

with definite communist influence

loving the graphics

quinta libelula

Still, we got there in the day.  I had sent a text to say we were on our way in and as we arrived, stopped to send another, Peter emerged in his 4x4, ready for the ride down his newly installed track to the house.  It was a good twenty minutes by foot before.  Luxury of a different kind.

I had tried to prepare Joy for our visit, but after a tour of the property, realised that I had not done a very good job. It was on steeper terrain, with more precipitous drops off narrow, uneven paths, more basically equipped, far more remote, with high unfenced terraces (some easily 8 metres) about the place.  She did amazingly well and later, after talking with my brother, discovered that NO ONE who has visited has embraced the spirit of the place without at least a day or so acclimatisation.  It is steep, uneven, almost inaccessible in a beautifully forested valley with no neighbours, only the noise of the birds and trickle of water in the stream, sheltered from winds from most directions, incredibly still and tranquil.  The little house has solar electricity and a solar heated shower, a fully functioning compost toilet, the freshest spring water piped direct to the kitchen, a functional terrace with tables and chairs, a beautiful view over one of the vegetable gardens, olive grove, forest and valley.  

The ground is being progressively cleared and I was amazed by the progress that had been made since my last visit a year ago.  We could walk from one end of the property to the other at valley floor level, via seven terraces of varying sizes.  The ancient irrigation system and much of the flat areas have been completely cleared of impenetrable bramble thicket, revealing more and more olive trees, ancient vines and other fruit trees.  A magnificent cork oak that had lain unnoticed for decades revealed in all its splendor.  Two terraces of vegetables planted harvested and restarted for the winter, chickens, goats and even a trout have arrived during the last twelve months.  The house has been re-roofed and re-floored inside and the upstairs is completely livable until the rest gets done.  

Whilst I was there, Dad visited for a couple of weeks.  We were all rather concerned with how he would cope before his arrival, especially after hearing stories of others that have visited, even for short periods of time. We needn’t have worried, he managed admirable and frequently surprised himself with his achievements on the exploratory front.  He coped with the vegetarian diet with easily and went home with renewed vigour and a determination to get out and do more, get a rail card, visit friends and places he’s never seen.  I sure hope he does.

my bedroom for a month 

4x4 on the new track with house roof visible to the left 

the yellow brick road, I built that

unlikely best mates

new improved 'facilities'

trying to get things into scale

newly cleared access to opposite gives new perspective

Dad and Windy surveying the latest clearing work "Goat terrace"

vegetables in for the winter

salamanca for morning coffee

Salamanca was much quieter the following morning, an ideal place for a cultural saunter and a cappuchino before a day on the road.  Beautiful yellow stone buildings, ornate beyond belief, somewhere religiously important judging by the buildings of old and more specifically when seeing the ‘Universidad Pontifica’.  You can get a degree in priest or bishop or monastic management perhaps.  Who knows.  Yet it was definitely good for a visit, some historical insight will be good one day, perhaps to explain it’s being there and it’s grandness, but great to start the day.

Little did we know then, that we’d be leaving culture and Spain later that day and arriving in good time for dinner at Peter and Michael’s rustic and basic place deep in the Portuguese mountains.   Charmin informed me that our journey time to final destination would be four or so hours, so we went for it without hesitation.  That would give us two full days before Peter headed back to England, a decent time to catch up and spend some quality time.

on to salamanca

We did another impressive leap the following day after taking the longest ever ring road round Madrid to leave. It was rather like the M25 only without so much traffic, but it got us there.  I battled against the toll roads and took a much smaller road than intended towards our destination of Salamanca.  It was worth it, proper countryside villages at an even slower pace than usual.  The road was winding and never flat, we got to see some great little places and a couple of bigger ones too, that we’d never have come across otherwise.  

The huge monastry of Saint Lorenzo del Escorial on its vast yet peaceful hillside, the ancient walled city of Avila that appeared out of no where and seemed to go on for ages, thankfully there was a viewing point as we headed out of town, so we got to have a good look at it from a distance.  Another one for further exploration at a later date.  The schedule to get to my brother Peter wasn’t for breaking just yet.  We didn’t use Charmin Garmin most of the time, he was just too much, though very useful for getting into and out of specific places.  That in mind, I swung off the dual carriage way outside Salamanca to plug him in for our arrival.  I had picked the right junction by chance and was within a couple of miles of our destination for the night.  A swanky camp site situated right next door to a several starred hotel, we even got to use the reception desk to book in and the weakest ever wifi connection, where I uploaded my last postings.  There wasn’t a planned stop in Salamanca, just a quick look if we got the chance.  We had the chance, so again, we took Percy into town for a quick look see.  The whole place was swarming with people, it was still very warm and again no where to park.  There was a massive medieval market /festival / gathering in full swing and as neither of us were particularly in the mood for hustle and bustle we aborted, vowing to get up early in the morning as it did look beautiful.  Our neighbours were evening entertainment, two sisters, traveling up from Morocco where one of them lives, in their clapped out motor home, they’d been keeping an eye on our washing when we went into town, and were more than happy to chat for a good long while.  We got to hear their stories and share some of our own, drink a good few glasses of wine and sneak in dinner at the same time.  I only wish I’d got the Morocco address for somewhen in the future.  Next time.

Avila from the van window

Avila from the viewpoint just outside of town

Salamanca in the evening sun