And so Northbound..
The week passes and its time to head on. The chaps have a very early flight from Faro airport, so I figure to be up with those guys and away. The temperatures are soaring across Portugal and Spain, so again hitting the road early with pleasant temperatures seems like the right thing to do, for both me and the bike.
A solid, half witted start today from me though.. pompltly spilling a dink over my laptop. Bloody hell. So if any lettes ae missing fom my eport today you’ll know what’s gone on. What a complete tosse.
Away we drift from the Algarve, off to the North.
All is going well. The bike seems all good. I follow the Cheapie ‘S’. We have a coffee on the main drag and then disappear onto the back roads. Lovely.
Even time to stop for some photies.
The Cheapie Satnav takes me onto gravel roads, which I enjoyably follow for a bit before thinking, hang on, this is probably, erm, not the right thing to do given the state of the bike. So I retrace my steps and do a bit of re-routing.
As we get through the day a bit of bad news for the Cheapie S. With the temp now sizzling at 40 degrees, it’s deciding to switch itself off. The thing actually is jolly hot so Iet’s stick it away to let it cool down. Oh well. But I do have the Zumo for reference of where I am.
If only I had a map.. yeah, well we all know there that one went..
But behold, there is some better navigational news. My Zumo finally says ‘not enough memory’ to compute the route and cancels it..so, I can see the map around me and zoom in and out, and that’s really all that I need.
This calls for a celebration.. More coffee and custard thingamybobs. You’ve just got to..
A few stops are taken including this little oasis spot. I’m in no rush.
More winding on little roads. Just going North / North East. Up and to the right. That’s where Santander is, right?
So, its early afternoon now, and I’ve probably gone about as far as I planned to go today, but it’s all going well, so plan will be to rack another hundred miles in the afternoon sun, and that’ll make the next couple of days even simpler.
Well, that was the plan anyway.
North of Abrantes, and suddenly the clutch problem is back with a vengeance. Nothing. Bollocks. I’m kind of in the middle of nowhere here. So I take a decision not to stop, clack it into third, most useable I guess, and then carry on until we hit a town.
A jumped red light later, I’m in a town called Villa de Rei. It is a pretty small place, and with a bit of luck and a bit of eeny meeny miny moe at a couple of roundabouts, I unceremoniously stall the bike outside a café.
I order drinks, phone recovery and hunker down.
A very drunken old woman comes over to introduce herself. We have a discussion in French, where I tell her the bike is dead.. est mort.. and she tells me that she loves me. Well that went well. Eventually she drifts off, I assume to her next bevvy..
About an hour and a half later the recovery truck arrives and we’re loaded up
We’re carted back, not that far actually to a depot just North of Abrantes. The bike is unloaded and after some hampered discussion due to no one knowing what each other is saying, eventually put in a garaged part of the compound.
When you think you have it bad, it could be worse. Drinking and driving, gestures the recovery driver. Yikes indeed.
That’ll take a bit of buffing out.
So now it’s a matter of logistics. From a follow up chat with the recovery guys, the bike will be taken to a dealer tomorrow for diagnostic, which is the first thing in the process of actually working out what will go on.
I leave the key, holding it aloft like some sort of treasure. The three guys there don’t want to leave it in ignition of the bike, so are looking for somewhere appropriate. We settle on the crash bar bag ‘Aqui, aqui’ everyone is saying, so that’ll be that. But the little voice inside says’ eek’. We’ll see.
I spend another 30mins on hold to the recovery line to work out what to do next. It’s now just before six and it seems harder to get through after office hours. But we do, and I tell them I’ve organised a hotel so we can take it from here.
Eventually a taxi is summoned to take me the 15km or so to a place called Pego, just outside Abrantes, which is where my hotel is that I’ve sorted. The taxi pilot - a very pretty and smiley young lady who doesn’t seem to speak English but seems very charming.
In contrast to a whole host of the Portuguese drivers I’ve been driven by, she’s a revelation. It’s quick pace but quite safe and confident. Nice. As she skilfully passes a car I find myself muttering ‘Wow, let’s get married’.
She giggles.
Not so long later we’re through Abrantes, crossing the river Tagus in reverse of my tracks a few hours back and then to a little place called Pego. We find the hotel, but it’s behind locked gates.
She stands at the bell, trying to get through. Plenty of gesturing, looking back and a bit of eye rolling.
Eventually the gate is opened. She says ‘The man here, he is a very kind man’ in a very smiley demeanour. So, clearly English is spoken then..
It was worth the wait. A super place, with Mr Alberty, the owner, who used to live in Chippenham. A very nice chap indeed, actually.
'You’re my only guest today', says Mr Alberty. 'The pool water is lovely, I can recommend it', he says.
After I’m my room, a little less flustered, and two Super Bocks up from the mini bar, Mr Alberty returns.
He says 'Would you like to go and have a nice dinner?'.
I say 'Do I look the type of person who would like to go and have a nice dinner?'.
He looks me up and down and says 'Yes'.
Tell you what, he's a bloody good judge of people, that Mr Alberty.
'A car will be here for you at 8, they will take you, and bring you back after. It is all taken care of'.
Lovely. After the complications of today, the simplicity of the evening sounds just the ticket
At 8pm, I’m out from the room and met with transport..
I'm bid farewell by Mr Alberty, who gives me keys and a blipper for the gate. 'Enjoy' he says 'and tell them to serve you the wine that I drink'. Right ho.
I'm left in the trust in the brother in law of the owner of the Santa Isabel restaurant who is at the wheel of the Discovery. He tells me he's retired and does this a fair bit, all part of helping the family. He's clearly very, very happy to be doing it, and gives me the bonus of a tour of Abrantes with a stop outside the castle at the top of the hill to boot. Lovely stuff.
And not so long later we're at the restaurant. Ah yes, this is the place:
By now, all of this being restrained with food and booze goes out the window. Give me food/beer/wine/port/etc. I’m not bothered about the order. Just bring it!
When life throws you lemons…
Recommended wine is ordered, and turns out to be quite a hit..
Is the beer good, also? I ask. What the hell, let’s find out eh!
Oh and it is good, by the way.
I ask what is recommended for dinner. 'Blackened Pork' I'm told. OK- I'm in. It’s delicious. I finish it.. at which point the man returns and says, 'You appear to have finished all of your pork.. would you like some more?'.. It’s too difficult to say no.. and an exact duplicate appears..
Dessert then.. and Port is brought.. a bottle left in my custody. Whoa..!
To cap the evening off, I'm then returned to base in a very lovely, bouncy, floaty 41 year old Mercedes E280, again piloted by the same chap as the earlier Land Rover. Given circumstances it’s a perfect evening, I’m going to give that eleven out of ten.