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March 16 – Sao Bartholomeu to Sagres, 642 km
It was a day of stiff headwinds. I need to write in the past tense to put it behind me.
The sky was mostly clear, like yesterday, and warmish, but our workout yesterday had both of us feeling sluggish. The roads surfaces today were not good, for the most part. We crept along at a painful pace, wondering all the way how we’d ever make it to Sagres at this rate. Past Silves, between Portimao and Lagos to the south of us, cars zipped by us every few seconds, often several at a time. It was nerve wracking.
It was not the day we had hoped for. We had pushed on beyond the half-way point to Sagres yesterday so that today would be shorter, flatter and more restful. And it was shorter and flatter but the constant headwind made it much worse. I have been in stiff headwinds for hours before, such as the time I rode from Bancroft to Toronto, and they are always the worst. It’s like climbing up a steep hill all day.
In spite of an early start we reached Sagres around 5pm, 95 km from Sao Bartholomeu. Even Mike was too tired to search for a pension so we waited in the main town square until 6 for the youth hostel to open. The wind was cold. I entertained Mike with my chattering teeth until he told me to take a walk.
The hostel is within the walls of the Forteleza, the Fortress of Henry the Navigator who set up his School of Navigation here over five hundred years ago. It is on a headland that juts out into the sea, a plateau with a narrow isthmus. The isthmus facing the land has a high wall but there are only waist-high walls around the perimeter of the headland because the shear cliffs around all sides are 100m high. The hostel is cheap – 700 esc. It has dorm rooms with many bunk beds, and many restrictions on space and movement that makes staying there a bother. The low price, amazing views and historical significance of the place makes it worth staying in for one night, but we have no intention of staying here longer than that.
I am frustrated with the all the regulations and restrictions and not in the mood to walk far or deal with Michael’s idiosyncrasies. I stay in the hostel and eat what groceries I have with me while he goes out to find a meal on his own.
There is only one other patron of the youth hostel tonight, a Kiwi named Nick Tulloch. He is 27 and has been traveling away from home for three years now. Off and on he returns to his uncle’s place in Scotland to work as a repairman in his automotive garage to pay for his travel expenses. Nick is the most organized traveler I have ever met, with the discipline and attention to detail of a seasoned military man. Everything has its exact place in his backpack and he packs and unpacks his belongings like a sacred ritual. He has even worked out ways to do his laundry while showering. If this was the Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy, I’d really have to say “This guy’s got his towel together!”Mike returned after dinner and the three of us spent the rest of the evening talking. Nick has accepted our offer to look for another space to rent together tomorrow, as we plan to rest here for a few days.
PHOTO 1: near the town of Luz
PHOTO 2: entering Vila do Bispo, last town before Sagres
PHOTO 3: in Vila do Bispo
PHOTO 4: entrance to the Fortaleza, Sagres youth hostel
PHOTO 5: me
1 comment:
Hi. I must leave a comment otherwise how would you know we read it. So I do it was not question in my mail:-).
I nice a I lived in the South of Spain over 30 years ago and have been to Portugal etc..so it feel a bit like touring again although I did it by bus and train. You must write to TV RADIO etc and get them to interview you. Like the lady on Shaw Channel 4. Bravo keep it up.
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