Portugal October 2013 - The Anthill Tour

[Pumpy]

Have you ever contemplated going to Portugal for some trail riding? Don't. It's awful.

Unspectacular countryside

Roads that haven't been maintained since Roman times

Lanes too narrow for overtaking

More gates than Wales on a bad day

Terrible lane discipline

Appalling roadside assistance

... and no Health & Safety regulations at all!

Dead ends everywhere

Boring history

Bleak villages

Inadequate accommodation

Disgusting food

Ugly locals

Detestable drinking culture

... and really bad company...

Well, we didn't know all that and when Timpo asked back in cold, rainy May if we were up for a trip to warmer climes in October, we happily accepted. And we were not the only ones - let me introduce you to the Anthill Mob:

Timpo 'Clyde' Thompson - the Great Organiser

Riding his X-Challenge

RickA

Husaberg 501

Muddymatt

690

GFJ

X-Challenge

Jimmy

DRZ400E

Famous

DRZ400E

Daithi

CCM404

Possu

690

... and yours truly on The Mighty DRZ (400S)

I must warn you: the tales we are going to tell will probably be as boring as our chosen destination - so after this trailer don't hold your breath for the next episode...

 

[(RIP) andrewgsadv]

Puppy ,
Simply marvelous read over me boring bran flakes breakfast. Lovely to see the best parts of Portugal. Me envious not a bit very many thanks for posting about your trip. The countryside, trail bikes ,pictures of food, a rouges gallery of your friends. Most enjoyable. Here sat smiling before going out into the wind and rain. You ma'am have brightened me morning. Ta

 

[JohnnyBoxer]

Great pics and lovely report and even Timpo in bed

 

[Pumpy]

Puppy ,
Simply marvelous read over me boring bran flakes breakfast. Lovely to see the best parts of Portugal. Me envious not a bit very many thanks for posting about your trip. The countryside, trail bikes ,pictures of food, a rouges gallery of your friends. Most enjoyable. Here sat smiling before going out into the wind and rain. You ma'am have brightened me morning. Ta

Thank you for your lovely feedback - I may even forgive you calling me 'Puppy'...

 

[Roberto]

A wonderful country to visit.. trip looks like a whole lotta fun

 

[(RIP) andrewgsadv]

Thank you for your lovely feedback - I may even forgive you calling me 'Puppy'...

Whoops using Julie's ipad made me do it Pumpy, my apologies.

 

[Pumpy]

Muddymatt arrived duly in Oxford on Sunday morning, squeezed his bike, belongings and good self into our van and off we set towards the port of Plymouth

Gives a whole new meaning to the lyrics: every body's gone surfin...

Keep going, please, keep going...

Our snug home for the next 19 hours

... which could have been sensibly spent on refreshing our basic vocabulary

Unless there's something better to do

Such as watching good old England disappear in the distance

Adeus, Inglaterra!

GFJ and Jimmy joined the mob

... and together we went to enjoy the simple things in life

The night was surprisingly quiet, but then we had only taken Matt with us on condition of best behaviour, i.e. no snoring, farting or singing inside the cabin...

In all fairness, Brittany Ferries' catering isn't too bad or that expensive, considering that they serve a captive audience

I would probably die of boredom if you forced me on a cruise - but finally, the long awaited call: Spain, ho!

... and while the others were still looking for Blighty on the horizon...

... I relished the sight of beautiful Santander getting closer

Good to know that the Air Ambulance would be able to rescue us even here...

May I draw your attention to what Matt considers his little overnight bag?

The boys making themselves useful and mixing drinks for the journey

Not without quality control, of course!

The first café con leche, tortilla and bocadillo de queso on Spanish soil - what a treat!

Decisions, decisions...

How many bikes are in this picture?

Mmm, the wheel bearings seem to have a little bit of play...

And then - the promised land!

We are not heading for the dark sky, are we?

Welcoming committee Timpo at the Cepo Verde campsite

We made it so far!

Did you notice GFJ's sophisticated luggage support?

Bikes got unpacked and prepared

RickA, who had driven over from France with Timpo after doing the 'Rallye des Pionniers de l'histoire' joined in - sort of...

Surely, the next morning would shine bright and sunny on us, our bikes and our first experience of the Portuguese trails?

Our first experience of the local cuisine certainly promised further culinary indulgences during the days to come...

However, a big fly in the ointment was that on the way down we had learnt that Famous's van had been broken into, the bikes and all equipment stolen and that he and Daithi wouldn't be able to join us after all...

Or would they?

Don't miss the next episode!

 

[Pumpy]

The next morning was cold, grey and wet...

... which was particularly unfortunate for Possu who had left his waterproof Klim trousers back in Oxford, trusting the assurances of my Portuguese colleagues that the weather would be fantastic and that we could have well up to 30 ºC until the end of October in the country's north...

Maybe it'll clear up during breakfast...

... which was great value for money, by the way

Alas, the rain hadn't stopped when we finally dragged ourselves out of the camp-site's restaurant, in fact it kept falling until late afternoon and so the camera stayed in the dry-bag for most of the day, sorry. I'm sure some of the others will have photographic evidence of our shenanigans - I can think of one or two pics taken by the Great Organiser...

After filling up in Bragança, we headed north from Gimonde towards the Spanish border and then wiggled our way through forests, over steep climbs and descents, slippery terrain and tiny cobblestone roads in equally diminutive villages to our overnight stop in Miranda do Douro.

I remember zero views of the allegedly gorgeous countryside, plenty of trees, often in the middle of the lane, terra not so firma, scary slopes and a lot of screaming, as I tried to keep up with the boys. At some point I'd had enough, I was hungry and absolutely knackered. You know what it's like (or maybe not) when you are the slowest in a group: everyone has to wait for you, which makes you feel guilty and under pressure, and when you have finally managed to catch up, the others, who have had their break meanwhile, set off immediately...

And thus I left the lads to their own devices (and pace) in the afternoon

... and continued on tarmac to Miranda do Douro. It's worth mentioning that we didn't meet any humans on the trails and that I saw only one car until I joined the main road.

Thanks to an accurate description of the preferred location and a print-out of Miranda's hotels - well researched and prepared by Matt - I quickly found us suitable alojamento in the Residencial Planalto: central location, a bar next door, secure parking, a super-friendly and helpful receptionist (it certainly helped that Branco spoke perfect Spanish as well...), simple but comfortable en-suite rooms, including breakfast for €13.33 (triple) to €15.00 (double) per person - what more could you possibly ask for?

Before I even had the chance to text the details to the rest of the group, they had already arrived after spotting my bike in front of the hotel, and together we rode to the secluded back of the 3-storey building, set straight into the rock

Rooms were quickly plastered with our wet gear...

... and after showering, shaving (well, some...) and savouring the first drink next door, we set off to one of the best restaurants in town, O Moinho, where Possu without further ado decided to abandon our vegetarian lifestyle for the rest of the holiday...

To be fair, it is quite difficult to find dishes without any meat traces on Portuguese menus and so I followed his example in due course.

Rick adventurously went for Chouriço ao inferno - the sausage from hell

... which was, nota bene, only a starter...

We dined and wined in perfect style and great spirits, ran back to our hotel in the pouring rain and settled for some further drinks in the bar.

Surely, tomorrow the weather would be a lot better, we'd be able to dry our clothes and enjoy the local trails in glorious sunshine...

To be continued

 

[Ash]

Great pics

+1
xxx

 

[Pumpy]

During the night I suddenly woke up - something was missing. Silence. The constant pattering against the windowpane had stopped; there was hope!

When the alarm went off in the morning it was still quiet outside, and upon opening the curtains we actually had a view of the historic centre, including the castle and the cathedral of Miranda do Douro.

Our delight was only short-lived though - whoosh, the heavens opened again and gave the city a massive shower.

Oh well, the pequeno almoço might cheer us up a bit.

Timpo conveyed that his body had already served as breakfast for other creatures earlier, a fate shared by Matt and duly reported to Branco in somewhat paraphrasing Spaniguese as 'insects that live in beds and drink your blood during the night'. Well, I never have encountered bed bugs on all my travels and just couldn't think of the technical term. I know that most English people would be too nauseated/embarrassed/cultivated to talk about incidents like this, but I thought the hotel must be given a chance to do something about it - and I wouldn't want to be the next person sleeping in room 302 if we didn't say anything...

In the meantime the rain had subsided and we had a view again

Rooms were paid and vacated, bikes were packed and fuelled and Timpo and Possu restored my bake brake to working order again...

Yes, Timpolino, I should have looked after my bike better and one day (in the not so distant future) it will bite me in the bum for that...

A last glimpse of Miranda's monuments...

... and off we went. It wasn't long into the first lane when I suddenly realised, after almost riding into a hedge: I'm not really enjoying this. The pace is too fast for my liking, I feel under pressure to keep up, I'm already anxious about the 'Ford of Doom' and the 'Olive-grove of Death' before even seeing them - and this is my long anticipated holiday for which I have worked so hard without any break for seven months. So at the next stop I told the boys that they shouldn't take it personally but I would carry on by myself, promised not to do anything too silly, stay mainly on tarmac and easy trails and meet them in the evening in Freixo de Espada à Cinta.

However, as I had the track on my Montana, I could see when they were crossing a road and navigate to that meeting point

Here they come...

... and there they go

Keep up, Rick!

What a lovely lane...

Portugal is full of them!

I rode a bit of tarmac, enjoyed the solo-travelling feeling rather a lot, calculated roughly when the lads should have negotiated their way through fords and olive groves along the Douro and then headed to the next rendezvous near Bemposta

Contemplating how good life can be, I patiently waited...

Half an hour later, the advance party arrived

... including Steve G, my dear Possu

The others still took another 15 minutes, having got lost somewhere between the olive trees, but then hurried along by the quickly approaching weather front

GFJ

Rick - working on his posture

Jimmy - glad to have survived so far

... and trusty tail-end Matt

What took you so long?

Well, the one who doesn't wait and thus loses the group, has to pay for the drinks later, right?

The boys decided to settle the score straight away and stopped for a coffee in Bemposta. I didn't know that and carried on to the next meeting point, waiting in vain. Not that it was boring at all, I got a good overview of Portugal's agricultural productivity in the meantime.

Vinho verde e tinto

Azeitonas

Abóboras

But the rain was closing in, and after warning an elderly gentleman walking his donkey that there would be six motos coming up the lane soon, I continued my journey south.

Oops, Possu just reminded me that it is my turn to cook dinner tonight, so I have to go -

To be continued.

 

[Pumpy]

During the course of the afternoon, I tried to meet the boys again on several occasions -

Here near Vilarinha dos Galegos

... and here south of Lagoaça

... where they have their own bouldery version of Long Barrows...

But the further away from our last rendezvous, it got more and more unlikely that our paths would cross again - there are just too many unknowns on such a trip: punctures, bikes drowning in rivers, forks or wheel bearings collapsing, GPSs dying, Timpo granting the group another break, etc, etc...

And so I headed back to the N221 and enjoyed the views from beautifully smooth, twisty tarmac

There are trails just everywhere...

Just before the rain I arrived in Freixo de Espada à Cinta, rode a bit into the track where I expected the boys to emerge from and then circled around the town to find the hotel we were going to stay in. I stopped at the most likely location, asked in a mixture of Portuguese, Spanish and French if three British motorcyclists had stayed here in April, showed recent pictures of Timpo, Rick and Matt, but the barman couldn't remember. He even called a nice young lady with perfect English to assist, but we were still not entirely sure. I should have read Matt's Three Stooges Tour report again, then it would have been clear...

).

Oh well, the coffee was nice, it had started to rain again, the locals offered me to sit at their table and so I happily waited until familiar noises approached. Yes, it was the right place!

In person, the Three Stooges were recognised immediately, we were shown to our comfortable and spacious rooms and started to carry our luggage up to the second floor...

I could have sworn that Gareth was an ATTGATT person - you know, role model for the public and all that...

Talking of - that's exemplary efficient parking!

We made ourselves comfortable - guess which room we were in?

... had some drinks in the bar and then moved up to the restaurant on the first floor

... where we were excellently looked after by Katia, the helpful young lady I had talked to earlier and who had already met the Three Stooges back in April: 19 years old, very bright, fluent in English, French, Spanish and, after her dad sadly died last year, sole breadwinner for her invalid mum and two younger siblings; resourceful, responsible and with astonishingly mature views of the world - a truly remarkable young woman, whose future prospects will hopefully brighten up very soon.

The food was delightful - Alentejano, the famous black Iberian pig which roams the cork oak groves feeding on their acorns

The wine wasn't bad either...

... and we thoroughly enjoyed the evening until we were politely asked to vacate the restaurant and retire to the bar - Katia deserved some rest after all!

Here the newbies were introduced to another of Portugal's specialities - CR & F (a legendary brandy produced by Carvalho, Ribeiro & Ferreira)

... followed by numerous rounds of Sagres...

Think very carefully about what you put into your 'Book of Truth' tonight, Matthew...

Pondering the repercussions of inaccurate reporting, I went to bed...

To be continued

 

[Col]

Lovin' this one....C'mon

 

[Pumpy]

Very late at night a red foreign Vivaro had rolled into Freixo - Famous and Daithi had made it to Portugal against all the odds!

I still struggle to recall all the details but basically what happened was that on his return to Paris from the 'Rallye des Pionniers de l'histoire' Famous found his van emptied of bikes and equipment, which was not only highly annoying but also preventing him from continuing his planned journey to Bragança. Or so you would have thought.

But instead of sitting in a corner and crying about the unfairness of the world, like everybody else would have done, Famous quickly rearranged ferry bookings, went back to his home island, organised different bikes and gear on the way (I remember something about Daithi jumping onto the ferry ramp at the last moment) and immediately returned to the continent, driving day and night to join the Anthill Mob as soon as possible. What a spirit!

I guess the two heroes wished the night would have lasted a bit longer but the next morning dawned with patches of blue sky and we were all raring to go

After a lovely breakfast I asked if there was any estacionamento seguro for Famous's third bike which, understandably, he didn't want to leave in his van - however secure the communal parking area directly in front of the hotel might be. The friendly owner didn't have a garage but Famous would be welcome to leave the bike in the rear of the bar until he came back to collect the van. Fantastic customer service!

And the high spirits and good deeds were not exhausted yet: Saint Matthew kindly offered to ride with me that day so that I could enjoy some trails, at my own pace, and he would follow me wherever the GPS tracks would take us. (<- that's me and the DRZ)

After filling up and letting the fast and furious go ahead, we climbed the hinterland of Freixo, accurately guided by either my Montana, a group of local builders or by Matt, who just stopped dead at the junction when I took a wrong turn. After a couple of steep-ish ascents through the woods we joined a ridge way...

... with great views over the Douro and into Spain on the other side

Back a bit, Matt...

And as if it had listened, this fellow suddenly appeared in the sky

I can tell you it's bl**dy hard to get a reasonable close-up with a compact digital camera...

We carried on through the scenic Parque Natural de Douro Internacional (the Spanish version is the most informative) on equally beautiful lanes until Matt solemnly announced that we were close to the notorious Roman Road. I asked him again for his opinion if we should try it or not but Matt wisely decided that I should give the trail a miss this time...

Instead we took the chicken route which incorporated a nice albeit not particularly short ford. Matt left me deeply impressed when he rode straight into the river!

He had spotted the tracks of another chicken who had crossed the stream not long before us...

What do you think, shall we just follow them?

We did and all was well. After a short climb onto the paved road, the nemesis of many a trail rider came into view...

... and we could hear engine noises

Oh no, it seems my Possu is in trouble!

Don't get me wrong, I would have worried about every member of the group - but Steve had our van keys in his pocket!

Reason 357 why you shouldn't go trail riding by yourself...

Looking good...

The roadside assistance in Portugal is really commendable

A last look into the abyss...

Here comes Jimmy

Well done, mate!

And here's Possu at long last

Completely knackered and desperately trying to recall his bagpipe lessons from school to get as much fluid into his body as quickly as possible...

Everybody in this picture has conquered the Roman Road at some point and came out alive - you can see the sense of achievement, joy and relief written on their faces...

Fit as they all are, it didn't take the boys long to recover from the ordeal and off they went again

Matt and I briefly contemplated doing the trail the other way round -

... but the call of the bar in Barca de Alva was louder...

To be continued

 

[(RIP) andrewgsadv]

Pumpy , really enjoying this. What an excellent country. Have watched the videos that Possu posted elsewhere , much respect for all the riders.
Looking forward to your next instalment.

 

[Pumpy]

Thank you very much, Col & Andrew!

I'm still trembling when I think of the Roman Road and how close to the edge they all rode on those slippery slabs...

We were talking about the trail again at last night's Thames Valley UKGSer meeting, and I am still not sure if I would ever do it - even on my CRF. The gorge would resound with high-pitched screaming all the way...

Should have time to write another instalment today; thanks for your patience.

 

[Pumpy]

After the trial of the Roman Road we regrouped in Barca de Alva for a well deserved break and enjoyed refrescos (cold soft drinks), galão (milky coffee), tosta mixta (toasted ham and cheese sandwich), gelado (ice cream) and a vida (life) in general...

Some looked after their weary bikes...

... others after their weary feet...

And then - after they had finally managed to get their bikes going - Famous and Daithi arrived from Freixo and the Anthill Mob was complete!

Matt and I set off before the rush and rode through stunningly beautiful olive groves, winding our way higher and higher up the hills. The slopes got steeper and steeper and I tried not to think about the gradient too much but to just keep going (as Matt had instructed me at the start down by the riverside). Alas, after a tight-ish bend an almost vertical ascent opened before me and I lost it! Sorry, Matt...

All knight in shining armour, Matt calmly parked his bike, assured me that he didn't mind lifting a lardy DRZ with full luggage at all and then he even rode it up the last bit of the incline...

Before my saviour could retrieve his own steed, we could hear engine noises from below...

... and thus took position to record the potential carnage...

Daithi doing well but losing points for putting his foot down...

Hang on, Gareth, I'll help you...

... I'll just park my bike

The Great Organizer was happy with the entertainment value of the lane

Possu, being very grateful that Matt was looking after me, even waited for him to make it up the slope, too

... although he thought it necessary to assume the goalkeeper position at one point...

While the others recovered, Matt and I carried on and coming to a junction, the seasoned Portugal traveller remembered that it led to a dead-end. So we went round, joined the track at the next possibility again and enjoyed miles and miles of open, sandy and twisty trails

Trail riding doesn't get much better than this

We were just discussing if we should tackle another steep climb, when the lads finally caught up... Timpo leading the pack

Daithi clearly enjoying the ride

Possu back to his usual riding-god self...

... closely followed by Jimmy

... while Rick took the opportunity for a little chat

Seeing the contour lines on the map, I opted for the more level deviation through the village of Vale da Coelha, thus leaving the boys to catch up with us again...

Look nice, Matt - and he always obeys!

Although I had already refilled my hydropack once from the spare bottle I carried with me, it was empty again and we were looking for a shop or café where I could buy more water. There was not a lot of such infrastructure in the little villages we passed - but they all have a communal water supply, which can (and did!) literally prove a life saver.

So when I asked the friendly señor in Aldea del Obispo for água potável he just smiled, pointed out that we were now in Spain - but everyone in the border region would have a good command of both languages and agua potable didn't really sound that much different.

(Photo courtesy of Muddymatt)

There be dragons...

We rode deeper into cattle country

... where the trails were rather sandy but not always that flat if I remember correctly

C'mon, Ela, we don't have all day!

By now - almost 6 pm - the DRZ was getting really tired and needed a little nap...

So we cut the route short and went to Sabugal on tarmac

Balconies full of half-naked gentlemen were certainly an incentive for getting to our destination quickly...

The Hospedaria Robalo offers superb rooms with a view over the city

For dinner we went to Sabugal's top Pizzeria

... where the views weren't bad either...

A brilliant conclusion to another fabulous day!

To be continued...

 

[johnnyboy]

Great RR Pumpy, some great photos; something which I always fail to to take enough of when I'm on a trip. Done some of the route on my 990 adv and pretty relieved I didn't stumble across the Roman Road section!! Looks like I may need to get something a bit smaller and re-visit the place, although I'd probably still avoid the Roman Road. Portugal is a great place for trails and the hospitality is second to none (as you know). I do struggle with the language though, it seems so different to any other language in Western Europe.

 

[Pumpy]

The morning of Friday 4th October dawned foggy but promising...

This is how the Portuguese keep their cities tidy - not that we'd seen much litter in the first place

Daithi and Possu had recovered from their being-stuck-in-the-hotel-lift-just-after-the-receptionist-has-gone-home trauma and tucked into the Robalo's excellent breakfast - choice and quality seemed to get better every day as our journey progressed

I let the boys go off enjoying themselves that day

... although it appeared that you can't really leave them unsupervised - within two kilometres they got split up and continued in two groups...

I blame the fog - it made it a bit tricky for me as well to find my way to Sabugal Castle, which had been clearly visible from our room the evening before

Via small back roads - some paved, some not - I headed south-west towards our next destination, Vila Velha de Ródão, willing to stop at every monument to explore the sights and delights of Portugal a bit further. Which you cannot do when your main focus is riding as many trails as possible in a day - it's just a different kind of holiday.

Well, I was determined to get the best of both worlds during those twelve days! After having wiggled my way through forests, being chased by sizeable dogs when entering villages through the backyard, and having explored narrow openings between ancient buildings wondering, is this still a street or already an alley?, I joined the N233 until the town of Penamacor came into view. Now, this looks interesting.

I followed the signs for Castelo through tiny, twisty and steep cobbled roads, winding my way up the hill - and always conscious that I had to come down somehow again. At some point the historic architecture made it clear - pedestrian access only

Even if some of you think that a DRZ would have fitted through...

... it suddenly made sense when I reached the old defensive wall

Great views - not just from a strategic point of view

Penamacor at my feet

When I returned to the bike, an elderly gentleman came out of his house and we started chatting about motorcycles, living in Penamacor and the must-sees of the town. He pointed into this direction...

... and recommended I should look at the castle and the keep

Climbing the rather fragile ladder of the tower was absolutely worth it

Even though this fellow was probably hoping that the fragile staircase would give way...

Hey baby, shall we see if we meet the boys?

From Penamacor it was only 13 kilometres east to where the trail was crossing the road, and with some luck the lads were not through yet...

To be continued

 

[Pumpy]

And so I descended through the narrow lanes of the historic centre of Penamacor, birthplace of (allegedly) the last great king of the Visigoths, Wamba, who ruled the Iberian Peninsula between 672 an 682. At one point I entered a one-way street from the wrong end, errrm, but by the time I realised my mistake there was no turning back on the steep cobble-stoned lane... Luckily I didn't meet any other vehicle all the way down to the main road...

I filled up with fuel (just in case...) and headed towards the Spanish border. The junction of trail and tarmac lay near the village of Safurdão, and as there weren't any tyre tracks in the loose soil yet, I prepared myself for a lengthy wait. It was difficult to estimate the lads' arrival time because I had no idea how technical the terrain was going to be that day and if there had been any mishaps...

You won't believe it - within five minutes I could hear familiar engines and around the corner they came! Matt had been promoted to ride leader...

... and Famous, Possu, Jimmy and GFG were happily following him

Did we have a choice?

Timpo, RickA and Daithi were missing; the guys hadn't seen or heard them for miles but hoped they were OK. To fill the vacancy, I suggested to join the group for a bit (according to TopoLusitania, there was another tarmac road to cross in just 500 metres where I planned to split off again). But that road never materialised - those must have been the longest 500 metres I've ever ridden - and suddenly we arrived at the 'Ford of Length' through the Rio Bazáguida.

This ford is so notorious that a grand total of three scouts was employed to assess the risks of crossing the stream...

... but before they had a chance to report back, Famous fearlessly hurled himself into the waters!

It has been mentioned earlier but it's probably easier to be daring if you ride someone else's bike...

Having been in similar situations before, Matt opted for the sensible way to reach the other side

Mmm, not always sure if he had made the right decision, I reckon...

GFJ looking very comfortable...

... as if he was fording rivers of that depth and length every morning before breakfast

Jimmy gathering mental strength... Hang on, let me get the camera ready, was Steve's encouragement...

No pressure then...

Left a bit!

Turn tight - tighter...

Well done!

Then it was my one and only Possu...

A last kiss and off he went...

Never mind the Paparazzi...

... on both sides of the river...

Keep going...

Maybe not that far...

I think Steve just wanted to make the most of it - we don't have a lot of fords in Oxfordshire...

Let's see if we've caught any fish...

Not quite, but freshly washed socks are always a bonus on a trail ride!

I chickened out at that point, waved the boys goodbye and went back to the road, but instead of continuing south-west I headed east towards Spain. The Extremadura was still missing from my list of the country's Comunidades, the 17 autonomous communities of Spain, of which I had only visited 13 so far.

That's 14 then - only Castilla-La Mancha, Murcia and Valencia to go...

In Valverde del Fresno I asked around for a map of the area to plan my route south and back into Portugal but neither service stations nor bookshops could help me further - they sell all they have during the tourist season and then stock up again in spring with next year's edition. The friendly owner of a little kiosco gave me some leaflets he had collected himself from the tourist office, which showed the hiking routes of the Comarca de Gata and the roads very faintly printed in the background. Sufficient though to plot my route to Cilleros and ultimately to Termas de Monfortinho on Portuguese soil, where the trail met the road again.

There were a few lanes in this part of Spain as well, but seemingly more regulated than on the other side of the border...

The Extremadura (meaning "beyond the (river) Duero") is the 5th largest Comunidad while the population density is rather low (25 people/km²) compared to Spain as a whole.

Beautiful countryside though

... with interesting rock formations

... and not a single vehicle in sight since I had left the main road in Cilleros

In Termas de Monfortinho I found that the boys had already been through and so I followed the N240 to Castelo Branco. In Escalos de Baixo I noticed some strange trees lining the road...

Any ideas?

Yes, they were cork oaks, trees that live up to 250 years and are harvested every 9 to 12 years - just standing there by the side of the Nacional 240

In Castelo Branco (White Castle), the largest urban settlement in the province of the same name, I stopped at a hipermercado to buy some provisions. I love strolling through supermarkets in other countries, you can learn a lot about how the people live, what they eat and drink on a normal day, what priorities and preferences they have, the price of bread and milk and how much the living costs must be. And while you inevitably start to communicate when you are in small grocery shops or street markets, in the anonymity of a superstore you can indulge in your field studies mostly undisturbed. Possu never understands why I can spend hours in foreign supermarkets, completely oblivious to the fact that I am actually doing sociological research...

Another thing that I still find fascinating, is how easy you can strike up a conversation when you are on a motorbike. When I came out of the supermarket, I found a local gentleman looking at my baby. He was interested because he rode an Africa Twin himself and we soon chatted about motorcycling in Portugal and our travels. Seeing the South American stickers all over the DRZ, he then went for his camera to take a picture of us - how lovely was that!

Near Sanardos de Ródão I finally had a late lunch-picnic in the Eucalyptus woods...

The fine scent of the trees slowly gave way to the distinctive smell of a paper-mill, as I approached Vila Velha de Ródão...

Here's another nice picture - especially for Timpo...

I circled through the small town - partially because I wanted to explore it...

... but more so because I couldn't find our hotel. Name and description I had been given (Hotel Turismo, looks like a bunker) didn't exactly match the conditions in real life, but in all fairness I have to admit that I didn't take the waypoint on the Montana very seriously (it just said Vila Velha...). Again, I should have re-read the Three Stooges report just before the trip, then I would have recognised the Hotel 'Portas de Ródão' immediately...

Anyway, after passing the building for the third time I finally stopped and spotted Rick's poor Husaberg, closely followed by the man himself, who had made it to Vila Velha despite spreading his fork oil over the rest of his bike, equipment and body after a boisterous jump...

The others arrived shortly after me and we moved to the spacious rooms that Rick had booked for us...

As we have only a shower cubicle at home, I made full use of the amenities...

Hours later I emerged from the bathtub and joined the boys in the lounge

And then dinner was served!

It was plentiful and de-li-ci-ous!

By now, Possu and I had come to terms with the Portuguese diet and were thoroughly enjoying the regional black pig and local lamb (without feeling too guilty...)

We were just finishing our desserts when the door opened and the Oirish appeared

Famous's DRZ had experienced starting problems during the day and Daithi had had to tow him for the last 50 miles! :huh That's what friends are for... And they were still smiling - especially as the chef, who was just about to leave, agreed to prepare two more well-filled plates.

What a spirit! And what a day! Matt took the task of truthfully capturing all the events and excitement of the day rather seriously...

What would the next day bring - considering all the damage to various bikes? Would the Anthill Mob still continue united? Would we all see Monsantos, Almeida and Bragança in the end?

Don't miss the next episode...

 

[GrinningGSer]

What a fabulous read so far and that Roman Road is hardcore bike porn Thank you Pumpy