Bike Tour- Days 1-4

Day One: Lisbon to Sesimbra (about 55 km)

Traffic heavy at times, then very light at end of day. 
Bike operating pretty solidly, though I worry about rear shifter cable housing on top tube...
Weather: partly cloudy, low 70s

The trek began solidly enough, though I was still dragging out of bed due to residual jet lag and the more or less impossibility of getting to bed at any kind of a reasonable hour on Friday night in the Barrio Alto, pretty much the ground zero of enchanting European night life..  Even with my turning in at 12:30 or so, the hostel was rocking until 2 or 3.  Fortunately I am a heavy sleeper! 

Anyway, the previous day's sightseeing had led me right by the ferry stop to cross the river to get to peninsula directly across from Lisbon.  Thus, after packing the bike the best I could and rattling down the steep cobblestone streets,  got there with little incident. A pleasant boat ride with nice views of the city, during which I made friends with a local biker and expressed my desire for a better road map than the vague one I already had.  He wax kind enough to pedal with me a few km to the next town and point out the correct shop, and soon I was off on the road with a clearer idea how to avoid the busy major roads.  I took the scenic route along the coast past huge sandy beaches much frequented by surfers.  So much so that the camping area nearby that was apparently their residence was nearly a mile across.  Looked more like a refugee camp, except with more dreadlocks and surfboards.

The coast bent around at that point and I was forced back on a more major road, which made for an unpleasant 10 km or so through a kind of suburb on a busy street with little to no shoulder.  I admit I was getting a little down on the whole plan if it was going to be like this the whole way but then just short of my day's goal of Sesiembra, my route got me off the main road, and almost instantly the entire character of the ride changed.  No traffic, a gorgeous village to ride through, and a sweeping panorama of the mountains I was to climb over in the background.  I found a lovely campsite in a field outside of the village, made camp, and ducked into a local pub in search of food.  The bartender spoke English and was very friendly- soon I was eating ham sandwiches and swigging Super Bock and typing the previous entry.  To bed after that, and finally kicked the jet lag by sleeping it out for 9 hours.  

Day 2- Sesimbra to Fortinbras (85 km)
Traffic-light all day
Weather- cloudy in early morning, clearing mid- morning, low 70s most of day.
Bike- shifter cable worsening rapidly, losing ability to shift into low gears

A little confusion first thing with navigation- rode around in a circle before I figured it out. A bonus stroke of luck I found out yesterday: the Google tablet I have with me has a working GPS function.  While I can't use it constantly due to battery issues, it is very handy to consult when I need to know where I am.  Using this magical device, I got on the right track, and instantly I found myself traversing magnificntly bucolic countryside, up and up the side of a range of mountains that towered over the local landscape. 

I was about to discover that this road was a Mecca for local road bikers, as pretty much the only traffic through this part were vast herds of brightly colored, spandex- clad riders astride spindly high end racing bikes.  I got a lot of love from these guys: smiles, thumbs up, and "fuerza", which I think means roughly, "way to go" and hopefully not "you sir, have mental problems".

I got to the top of a pass, and the view of the ocean and the ridges around me literally took my breath away. I came to a junction where I had a choice of descending down to the low road along the coast or continue along the ride, and the view being so nice thus far, I took the high road.  While I could complain about the 20-degree climbs and my worsening shifting problems, this would be churlish, because the views looking down the ridge to Setubol were mind-blowing.  Eventually the road gains the top of the mountain range and the very fortunate rider gets a long, swooping, 360-degree view descent down to Setubol.  Me like.

It being Sunday, I could not get any help with my bike problems, but I did get another ham sandwich or two and found my way to another ferry to cross to the thin spit of land that makes up the northern extremity of the Portuguese coast.  There is only one road on this very thin strip of land, and it definitely pretty, though all you see of the ocean from the road is the occasional glimpse through the sand dunes.  

I biked on until about four, but was getting tired and regretting my total lack of training for this trip.  The next official campground was still about 15 km away, so I made an attempt at the next town to try to find a place to just crash on the beach.  No such luck, as the coastline here is developed enough to have fences strung up to discourage such behavior, and (most devestating to my conscience) nice interpretive signs explaining the fragility of the dune ecosystem.  So I stretched it on to an official campsite at Fontanhas, and arrived at sunset, pretty much on fumes.

Happily, these official campsites are pretty full-service affairs, with showers, a restaurant, and a lounge area, so I was able to recuperate with yet more red wine (I think it flows out of the tap here) and an enormous pork chop dinner.  Slept like a baby.

Day 3- Fontainhas to Porto Covo

Weather: partly cloudy, low 70's. 
Traffic: pretty light throughout
Bike: repaired and all systems nominal

Woke up and was a little frustrated a TTF some early roadblocks, such as no hot water and both the restaurant and the market closed until noon.  But I did talk a repairman in the campsite into letting me borrow a pair of ancient tin snips so I could repair my shifter housing.  English is much rarer here than in the Lisbon area, but I made do with crappy Spanish and sign language: which imagine sounded something like this to the repairmen:  "Good morning time, sir.  Prithee wouldst thou have tiny machines to help me?  My bicycle, she is infirm, and I weep."

Or at least I hope that's what I was saying.  The breakfast problem was also soon solved at on of the ubiquitous "snack bars" (which generally serve espresso, ham sandwiches, alcohol of any description, and custard tarts) along the way.  I huffed up a gradually steepening hill to the insanely picturesque town of Santiago De Cacem, which has similar architecture as Lisbon.  I kept huffing up the steep cobblestone alleys and reached the castle that tops the town and has/views in every direction.  The inside of the castle contains perhaps the coolest graveyard I have ever seen, mainly because its in a castle.  Also there /was a sign there that explained that this was the northern terminus of a long-distance hiking trail that stretched along the coast to the very tip of the country at Sagres. 

I felt a little jealous of backpackers being able to do that until I started my long, glorious descent down the deserted road toward my destination at Porto Covo.  It made maximum use of the moderate elevation I had gained, and the ridge road spun me down through miles of cork oak and then fabulously pastoral landscapes.   Got into Porto Covo, a beautiful resort town pretty much abandoned this time of year, made camp, got a good hot shower and a delicious meal downtown of fried cuttlefish with (weird!) A bunch of wine to wash it down. 

Day 4-kinda sorta rest day- Porto Covo to Vila Nova De Milfontes (25km).

Traffic, weather, and bike pretty good.

Not a lot to say about this day- I was feeling a little beat up from some of the previous hard riding and also heard this town was really nice, so took a half day off and enjoyed the scenery at the charming Vila Nova.  It's at the mouth of a decent-sized river, and has a nice bay that apparently gave shelter at one point to Hannibal and his Carhoginians.  It also gave me shelter, and time to walk the lovely beach, do some reading and (gasp!) Sip some wine at one of the many seaside bars that must be jammed in the summer but are pretty much empty now.  The coast is getting increasingly rough and beautiful, if that's possible.  I met my first fellow bike tourist, who was going the opposite way, finishing a giant loop that started in Holland.  We exchanged notes, but I think were mostly happy to meet one other person who didn't think we were insane!    Tomorrow I plan to push down the coast a fair distance- should be great!!