Day Seven: Roman ruins, and a short ride to a rest day

 We stayed at the hotel until about 10:30 am.  Our ride from this hotel to the next was about 16 kilometers and we were backtracking a few in order to visit the ruins at Conimbriga.  They'd been closed in the spring and I was impressed by the little I did see then.  Sandy wasn't convinced it would take much time to visit the ruins and museum.  Our ride, we figured would take about an hour and we didn't want to arrive at the hotel too early in the day - which creates difficulties checking in.

The ruins did not disappoint.  They were more extensive that either of us imagined.  Conimbriga was a settlement well before the Romans came to the Iberian Peninsula during the first Century before Christ's birth.  It is my understanding that the Roman "conquest" of Portugal was not complete until shortly after Christ's birth - around 12 AD.  Regardless the ruins show some of the history and development of the community that inhabited it during the next five hundred years until, and shortly after, the fall of the Roman Empire.  The mosaics that have been uncovered and incredible.  Artifacts in the museum give a fully picture of some of the art, sculptures and building that were a part of it;

We spent about three hours exploring and reading the displays which (unusual for Portugal) are in both Portuguese and English.

Finding our way back onto the road we made our way back through Condeixa a Nova towards Coimbra.  Our route traced in reverse our travels in the Spring which caused some difficulty when RidewithGPS tried to send us the wrong direction up a narrow one way street.  Finding a legal route took us down a slope only to have to turn left up a significantly steeper hill.  Both of us found ourselves walking having not been in the proper gears for the slope.  A minor inconvenience.  Before long the landscape became more familiar.  An old factory alongside the road.  Fields, which in the spring were only just being cultivated full of corn.  The stork nests on the power lines abandoned - where do the storks go from Portugal - North or South - during the summer.  The ride follows the Mondego river into Coimbra where we will have our first rest day since arriving in Lisbon.  There are several places to see in this university city.  More on that tomorrow.

Day Six: Reminiscing

 I'd been looking forward to this day since the spring.  We'd be riding over roads that we travelled the opposite direction on in May.  On May 1st we rode from Coimbra to Ansaio through Rabacal and Condeixa.  I was anxious to revisit Condeixa where the Roman ruins at Conimbriga sit alongside the Camino and Fatima trails.  There were places along the way that I wanted a closer look at, and I expected the ride would be relatively easy once we climbed over the ridge at Alvaiazere on our way to Ansaio.  Ansaio is the place where my bike broke down in the spring.  Our ride from Ansaio to Tomar included several signifcant climbs and is notable for the fact that I did the ride on a proper bicycle having taken Huw Thomas' bike for the day (my e-bike was repaired in Tomar).

Alvaiazere - the hill on the left is our climb for today

The day began as one of the coolest of our trip and there was a small possibility of rain during the day.  I pulled out my raincoat which is the warmest jacket I have on this trip and we set off.  The climb was relatively steep, with 10 percent grades in places.  Sandy slogged her way up the hill and I yoyoed around her - sometimes ahead, sometimes behind.  These grades are where the e-bike holds a decisive advantage - some would say an unfair advantage.  Honestly, if it wasn't for the e-bike I would be walking a sizable number of the slopes and Sandy would be waiting endlessly for me to catch up.  On the other hand I am not exerting myself during most of these climbs - my maximum heartrate has kept to somewhere around 120 beats per minute.  I internalize the disconnect as stress and worry about the inequity of the rides.

At the top of the climb we found ourselves buffeted by winds from the north.  For the rest of the day as we rode through Ansaio and towards Condeixa a Nova the winds made the ride more difficult.  As Sandy said, "You know there's a wind when you have to pedal going downhill.  For the most part it was downhill.  Our ride reached an altitude of approximately 500 meters at the top of the ridge outside Alvaiazere and dropped to about 100 meters at Condeixa.  We passed through an arid landscape with a few olive groves and vineyards.  Some forested areas and scrub.  The pretty church in Rabacal reminded us of our lunch stop in the spring and as we came close to Condeixa a pilgrims rest stop at the side of the road exhibited the devotion of a stranger.

The Camino in the final stretch into Condeixa is uniquely beautiful.  The pine trees on the mountains alongside the road are particularly striking to me as they essentially cover the landscape.  Our route took us past the springs that were the source of water for the Roman community at Conimbriga 2000 years ago still today filtering the water in a way that is visible to all who go past.  Before long we'd made our way to the hotel for the night.  The hotel owned by a non-profit foundation supports educational and development programs in the region.  They were encouraging a visit to an "Ecumenical Universalist" Temple about 20 kilometers away near a nature reserve.  I was intrigued by the connections - who was the foundation? What did they actually do besides running a couple of hotels?  The building we were in was an ancient villa/palace that had been renovated in the 1990's into the hotel it is today.  A lovely grounds with a pool.  Marble surfaces.  A bit of investigation online and I found two news items from last week announcing fines the foundation was assessed for failing to get proper permits in the building of the "Temple."  While I was unable to discover much about the individuals and others connected to it - "Ecumenical" and "Universalist" covers a lot of territory.  It appeared that some of the work for the foundation is not as altruistic as the literature would have us believe.  Regardless, our stay was comfortable and the staff friendly and helpful.  The bartender/waitress that served us an afternoon snack and breakfast in the morning is a young woman who immigrated to Portugal from Brazil three years ago.  In Brazil she was a psychologist.  Here transferring her credentials is difficult but she feels safer than she did in Brazil, and for her three children.

Day five: Adventures you don't want to have

 In May, on the day we arrived in Tomar, we stopped for lunch at the end of a lengthy climb, beside a church in a town named Chaos.  It felt a little chaotic.  Some of the group was riding with COVID.  Someone was having issues with flat tires and I was riding a normal bike - my e-bike having broken down the previous day.  After lunch we had a glorious ride down nine kilometers of steep downhill.  I remember (it may have simply been my imagination) saying, "I wouldn't want to ride up that hill."  So....how did our fifth day of riding begin.  We rode up that hill where we stopped for a selfie by the church where we'd eaten lunch.  Had we been smart, we would have stopped there and given thanks for the blessings of travel and the ride - quit and come home.

My brilliant inspiration in planning for this trip had been to follow in reverse some of the routes we'd used in the spring.  I thought, it'll be nice to be in somewhat familiar places.  All that worked.  The roads were great for riding on.  There was little traffic and we could see how spring had moved through summer towards fall.  The gardens had grown.  There was perhaps less colour now as plants faded towards winter hibernation; but it was an interesting contrast to the earlier trip.  So we moved forward.  Pedalling towards our next destination - which was a little east of the route we'd followed in the spring.  In preparing I'd looked at the map and found roads that seemed to work for the trip - and they did work in that they eventually got us to where we were going.

Somewhere along the way where in the spring we'd come from the west, we took a right turn onto a smaller country road.  All was good.  It was a pretty ride.  Stone fences.  Olive Trees.  Few houses and even fewer cars.  The terrain began to change and we rose towards the top of a mountain where a summer forest fire had devastated the landscape.  We'd heard about the fires in Portugal and Spain during the worst of the heat this summer.  On this day we got to see it first hand.  We could see where the crews had moved in and eventually brought the fire under control.  At the top of the mountain we could see the scars of the fires around the communities in the valleys hither and yon.  

The road dropped into one of those valleys and as we came around the bend the GPS indicated a turn ahead.  It was onto a cobble road.  I groaned at the bouncing and hoped that it wouldn't be for long.  What I'd missed in my planning was the next kilometer at grades of 12-16 percent.  I was ok.  I put the motor into sport mode and up the hill I went.  Sandy had to walk.  Her bike is working perhaps as well as we can expect, but most of the cyclists we know would balk at 16 percent grade for any length of time.  I wondered how much trouble I might be in for following this route - not that I'd certain there were better alternatives.  I lay my bike on the road and walked down to help Sandy with her bike.  As we came to the peak pushing the bike along came a car.  I wonder what they thought.  Sandy has Canadian flags on her shirt and we're clearly out of place.  I signalled to warn them of my bike laying in the road.  They slowed, weaved around my bike and continued on.  After a short rest at the top we continued on towards the unknown.  The ride was an adventure - beautiful and unique - but it's not a route I'd recommend to anyone riding the Camino.  Perhaps stick to the the tried and the true.  I might have chosen a route further to the east that was closer to the Camino proper.  We had an adventure and did eventually find our way there - but it was one of the most challenging days of cycling we've had in Portugal...cobbles, 16 percent grade, don't do this at home folks.

Sandy's walking somewhere down there

Once at our destination, Alvaiazere, our accommodation was simple and basic.  It was an Alberge the traditional stopping places for pilgrims on the Camino.  The bed was hard and small - a second single bed provided us with sufficient room for the night.  Our meals were in the adjoining restaurant which opened at 7pm.  We arrived and our meal consisted of soup, a choice between fish and meat (chances are, in Portugal, meat means pork) and desert.  The price for the two of us, including wine, was 28 Euros - the least expensive restaurant we've eaten in this trip.  To be fair the prices in most of the restaurants are reasonable.  It is rare, with the exception of tourist centers like Lisbon to pay more than 100 euros for a full three course meal - appetizers, entree and desert with wine.

Day Four: Bike repairs, into the hills and Tomar

 We started out early hoping to time our arrival at a bike repair shop we'd identified as a possible solution to Sandy's bike issues, to allow time for repairs and to manage the hills we knew we were coming.  We're not entering the region of Portugal that we had travelled through in April.  The coming three days will follow much of the same route.  Leaving Golega we reached a more urban setting after about 1/2 hour of riding.  Today we passed a few other pilgrims walking along the way.  Greeting one another with calls of Buen Camino moments of commonality helped us move forward.  Finding the bike shop presented a challenge.  First the main street we passed along once we'd crossed the freeway was bulging with traffic.  One long block backed up completely as trucks squeezed up the road, narrow sidewalks and a lot of cars made cycling feel dangerous.  Following Google Maps the store was not in the location the internet suggested.  For rent signs in the windows suggested they'd closed.  There was another bike store a few blocks away - we'll find out way there and see what can be done.  One of the turns took us onto a pedestrian mall where an elderly guy on a bike stopped us to let us know cycling wasn't permitted on that particular street.  Apparently scooters were exempt as a young man passed us while we walked down the cobbles.  A block and a half down the street I stopped to check our progression only to look up and see the original store we'd sought beside us.  They were in the process of moving the business and google had now been updated.  There were newspapers on the window, but the door was slightly ajar.  The young man who had passed us on the scooter came out of the door and we accosted him with please for assistance.  Gratefully his English was good and he was willing to help.  He brought us into the still closed store and set Sandy's bike up on a stand.  Examining the problem he brought out a tool for straightening bent derailleur hangers and worked for a few moments at straightening the post.  He adjusted the gears and got them working as best that he could then called us over to look at the wobble in the cassette.  He didn't have a replacement that would work until tomorrow.  Discussing our options we would move to Tomar.  Sandy could now drop her bike into lower gears on hills with some confidence the chain would not come off and the hills, were not overly steep - that would come.  The young man refused any payment for his work and we thanked him profusely.  It's the second or third time that's happened in our travels through Portugal.  The people are gracious and eager to help when help is needed.

We continued on from the shop navigating our way back to the route we had left to get there.  The narrow street, the traffic, and as I turned through one of the roundabouts and powered up the slight rise to the overpass I wondered why my bike felt so heavy.  Looking down I realized I'd forgotten to turn on the pedal assist.  An e-bike is great as long as you use it as intended.  The weight of the motor, the added weight of panniers and whatever happens to be in them, add together.  I was managing the rise to the top of the overpass, but swearing at myself for forgetting to turn on the bike.

The following 20 kilometers was lovely riding.  Country roads rising and falling through the hills surounding Tomar.  There was little traffic and we passed dairy farms, olive groves, and small villages along the way.  I was excited to be returning to Tomar.  It's Convento do Christo and old city are enjoyable to explore.  Our hotel this trip was even more comfortable than the one we stayed in during our spring excursion.  Along the way we discovered that construction season in Portugal is not much different than in Canada - perhaps with the exception that the construction crew standing alongside the road took pity on us at what was supposed to be a detour - encouraging us to ride through the zone.  Thankfully for us, and them, it was the lunch break - or something - the equipment was parked blocking the road with sufficient space for us to squeeze through to the other side.  The benefit - no traffic following us down the hill into the center of Tomar.  Next stop, bicycle repair shop #2.  Sandy's bike needed a new cassette on the rear wheel.  Bicycle repair Shop #2, like Bicycle repair shop #1, had a website telling us where to find it.  They also had in common the failure to update the websites when they moved, closed, or had other relevant changes.  We couldn't find #2, so onto google for #3.  #3 was blocks away and easy to get to so we rode there in search of a mechanic.  Thankfully it was open.  The mechanic replaced the cassette for the price of the parts and did not charge us labour.  On top of that he did a thorough inspection of the bike.  Adjusting the brakes he said to me, "It's important that they are the same for the brain."  I wanted to bring my bikes from Canada to Portugal for this person to inspect and adjust.  We were deeply appreciative of his labour and of his concern.  It was time to go to the hotel.  As we left the shop we realized the doors were being closed and locked.  The afternoon on the Iberian Peninsula is often a time for seistas.  It was no different for the mechanic.  We left aware of the ways in which his generosity went beyond what we expect.  Thankful for his help.

At the hotel, lunch and our first excursion to the hotel pool.  The outdoor pool was a little chilly for our taste so a dip in the indoor pool refreshed us.  Our own siesta and we headed into the center of town to enjoy and relive some memories of our May visit.  We spent some time in the city square.  I'd hoped the scaffolding over the church would be removed.  Alas, it seemed there was more of it.  At an outdoor patio Sandy enjoyed a beer and I relived my introduction to gin and topic.  It was in Tomar in May that some of those travelling with us introduced me to the drink.  A touch of lemon, ice, and I decent sized large glass - a perfect refreshment on a warm afternoon.  A couple of G&T's for me, and a couple of beers for Sandy, during which we were entertained by a group of women dancing in what looked like medieval costumes in the square - celtic music, it was somehow out of place - but entertaining none the less; especially the walking tour that came along and joined the women in their dancing - Sandy and I moved on.

Our destination was the Restaurant Thomas which had provided one of our dinners in Tomar in the spring.  They have two menus - a handwritten menu of the day.  Each item on the menu - about 12 in total is identified by a number.  When we sat down the second menu was provided.  The handwritten menu is in Portuguese.  The second menu is typed in English.  The second menu has a total of about sixty dishes.  It's provided as a way to interpret the first menu.  By matching the numbers on both you can interpret and understand the choices.  A practical solution to bilingual issues.  Not sure what they do when french, spanish, german or an other language is involved.  It was good to be back.  We were remembered as part of the cycling group that had come in the spring...close enough to feel like a part of the family.  Another day comes to a close.

Day three: Leaving the traffic behind us (for now)

 One of the challenges of touring in this way is the arrival at hotels which are often in urban areas.  Santarem was no different.  My last post spoke of getting across Santarem after visiting the bike shop for repairs on Sandy's bike.  The following morning, our routine established for the first part of the day, we packed; delivered our bags to the front desk for transport to the next nights accommodation; ate breakfast; wrote my blog; and headed out.  Our day was to be relatively short - 33 kilometers or so.  It was also continuing to be flat.  Those who've followed previous trips to Portugal know that I describe it as "rugged" but the plains around the Tejo River are anything but rugged.  Pancake flat would be more accurate.  Except to begin we needed to get out of Santarem.  This is where our GPS units consistently fail us.  The maps are too small to read.  There is a slight delay as our location is determined and marked by satelites (I presume).  When there are many turns in a short distance, or variations of direction, we often find ourselves having ridden beyond the turn we were suppose to make.  The GPS tries to help by redirecting our ride and next thing you know we have no idea where we are supposed to be in relation to our route...going around in circles.  On this morning we gamed the system.  We turned on the GPS on our phones which announced the turns we were to make before we reached them.  It's not fool proof.  In Portugal and Spain the street signs are often on the sides of buildings about 15 feet above the ground - if they are there at all.  So, when the GPS says, "Take the next right onto (Name of Street here)" we have to trust that the next street is what the GPS called out.  In older parts of old cities this is another challenge when what looks like a walking route is really a street.  We've been in lots of spots where there is no room between a rearview mirror and the building wall for a pedestrian, let alone a cyclist. (Not complaining, I LOVE the old cities).  Long story short, after a few wrong turns; a couple of steep hills on cobblestones, we found our way to the part of Santarem along the river.  A right turn and the GPS said, in 18 km turn right.  We were going in the right direction on a narrow country road surrounded by vineyards as far as we could see.

Given the challenges with Sandy's bike were were grateful for the flat, quiet road.  Along the way, past the vineyards, we acres of tomatoes being harvested.  Sandy snuck a couple from the vines to have with lunch.  We watched a combine as it moved the tomatoes from vine into a truck for transport wherever they were to go.  

About 18 kilometers later the turn was nothing more than a bend in the road.  We encountered our first hill - the only hill on that particular day.  With the power assist of the ebike I said to Sandy that I'd wait at the top and rode ahead.  It wasn't a particularly steep or long climb.  I stopped to wait (as promised) and pulled my water bottle out for a drink.  Just then a group of a dozen or so road cyclists riding in formation flew by.  I glanced back to see where Sandy was and could see the top of her head as she walked up the climb.  "The walk of shame", she called it as she reached me.  The other cyclists had shouted encouragement as they'd gone by - at least we prefer to believe it was encouragement.  The hill took us into and through a small traditional Portuguese community.  Small white houses right up against the road.  Fences, olive trees, small gardens behind large walls.  The weather was good and we were enjoying the ride.

Beyond the town the road dropped through a windy downhill.  The time of downhill I love to ride.  The road was quiet enough that cutting corners was safe to do.  We could fly down.  There were trees and bush along both sides of the road.  Eucalyptus, cork, berries and a variety of other plants common to Portugal.  At the bottom the road wound through a forested area.  A lovely day, sheltered from what wind there was.  Sandy's bike was working, albeit not perfectly.  She didn't feel safe shifting onto the larger cassette rings because of the way the chain would jump around.  A fear of being stuck a distance from the nearest town kept us going steadily towards Golega.

We moved along the road and found that we were in fact following the path of the Camino proper.  The signs would pop up from time to time.  The local council, supportive of the tourism the Camino brings, had placed directional signs at intervals which showed where we were and where we were going.  After a period of time the vineyards, changed to forests, shifted again to fields of corn.  For a short time we road along a gravel road.  As we came closer to Golega the road shifted from pavement to cobblestone making the cars approaching and passing us easy to hear.  At Golega a municipal park was the first sign we'd arrived.  We pulled over to the side and enjoyed our lunch before searching out our accommodations.

Golega is a small town with a population of approximately 5000 people.  It's claim to fame is an International Horse Fair during the first week of November, and a fair celebrating the Lusitanus horses later that same month.  The main square in town - aside from the square by the 16th century church - is an arena for all things equestrian.  Our hotel, along side the square, was built around 1999 for the purpose of supporting equestrian tourism in Portugal.  About 8-10 rooms on the second floor of the building at the back of the courtyard overlooked the stables on the left and right sides of the courtyard.  The stalls were filled with very large, beautiful horses.  A door on the left lead into an arena for exercising the horses and for awhile in the late afternoon we watched a man take his horse through it's paces clicking the rhythm as the horse stepped along.  

We were the only people staying in the hotel that night.  Getting admitted was a bit of a challenge requiring a phone call to a person who only spoke Portuguese.  Luckily she understood who we were and came with a key, vouchers for dinner and breakfast at nearby restaurants, and a few instructions.  It was permissible to visit the horses.  Once in the room Sandy disappeared to greet each of them.  It wasn't as comfortable perhaps as some of the places we've stayed, but it was unique.  

Wandering out into the town we found beer across the street at the restaurant we were having dinner in later in the day.  The waitress spoke sufficient English to explain it was better to have a reservation and we decided to have it on the patio, which, while the sun was shining, was uncomfortably warm.  We made our reservation and left to see a little more of the town - I wanted a peek at the church with it's Manueline entrance and, perhaps, it's interior.  We walked along the narrow cobble streets with the signs in the shapes of a horse above just about every establishment.  At the church square a pastellerie with a tree covered patio was open.  A bakery walking distance from the church - what could be better.  I hoped to find a swiss pastry that I could send a picture of to Sig, but settled for an apple turnover.  Sandy had a ham and cheese pastry and we talked about the possibilities of settling in Golega for retirement.

Dinner back at the restaurant came and we arrived to a table set out for us on the patio.  The waitress brought the menu, in Portuguese handwriting, on a blackboard slate.  After all our visits to Portugal some of the menu items were decipherable.  Easiest to order Bacaulhau (cod) which can come in many different forms - in most cases a casserole that mixes cheese, potato, cream and salted cod.  It was what we received.  The waitress had helpfully suggested that one order would be sufficient for the two of us to share.  It was rich, and delicious.  Some Vinho Tinto de Casa to go with it and although the outdoor air was becoming a little cool we enjoyed our dinner together along side a group of younger people and their dogs - Labrador retrievers, and "Molly" a terrier who liked to have her ears scratched when she wasn't wandering around the Patio and into the restaurant itself.

Our night in the stables - there was plenty of room - went well as we listened to the horses occasionally kick the walls of their quarters.  The morning came with a flurry of activity as people arrived to feed and care for the animals.  A new day had begun.

Day Two: thing go sideways

 Our day starts with the packing of our luggage.  Our suitcases are moved each day by taxi from one hotel to the next.  We have to take them to the front desk by 8 am.  We're finally each having more regular sleep patterns - a good thing as we do feel a little more alert as the day begins.  Our suitcases with the hotel we head for the breakfast that is a part of our stay each day.  Breakfast at hotels in Portugal is a variety of cakes, meats, cheeses, breads, fruit and in most places scambled eggs, bacon and sausage.  I eat while Sandy uses the variety of cold cuts, cheese and buns to prepare lunch.  

From breakfast we return to our room.  Our distances each day are short, and so far at lease, flat.  Our longest ride thus far is about 40 kilometers - two hours of riding time and a leisurely pace.  Today we are going about 44 kilometers from Vila Franca de Xira to Santarem.  In May, at the end of our Historic Heartland trip we took the bus from Santarem into Lisbon.  I remember it as a hilly city, with small windy, narrow roads.  Our route for the day looks flat until we get to Santarem where we climb about 100 meters to reach our hotel.  We're finally leaving the city behind and moving through fields alongside the Tejo/Tagus River.  To begin we have about 100 meters with traffic heading to the nearby freeway.  A quick right over the railway and then a left.  The left turns out to be a little less than obvious and we fly pass it having picked up speed on the ramp from the bridge.  It's good to be on country roads, but which country road are we supposed to be on.  Our Garmins are telling us that we are "off course."  We backtrack towards the bridge and spot the camino signs pointing the way along a rocky path skirting the farm fields beside it.

Now, too, we begin to encounter other pilgrims.  They and we call out Buen Camino as we pass.  It's sunny and reasonably warm, but a strong wind from the Northwest makes the riding a bit more challenging.  The psychological impact of the wind is discouraging.  After living six years in southern Alberta's winds I've grown a natural hate for wind - especially wind over twenty five kilometers and hour.  Not to mention that, on a bike, my size turns me into a perfect sail.  If the wind is at my back it's great and I fly along enjoying the ride.  But when the wind is blowing into me from the front or side there's another story to be told.  I get tired, and grumpy.  I curse God and pray constantly for the wind to change.  I offer prayers of thanks for anything that blocks or channels the wind away from me.  I try keeping my spirits up by reciting the words, "I feel the winds of God today, today my sails I lift" as we ride along.  Sandy's grateful that I'm not singing at the top of my voice - as are the dogs, sheep, cattle and people we pass.

The Camino pathway moves north from Vila Franca de Xira

The ride follows the path for several kilometers where we come to a train station and nuclear power plant.  Around those we follow the camino signs that take us onto the N-3.  Back into the traffic.  Sandy overheard someone discussing driving in Portugal.  Many people avoid the tolls on the major freeways, choosing instead to use the service roads/highways that are built alongside the freeways on the Iberian Peninsula.  In Spain where there are no tolls on the highways those service roads were a delight to follow during our "french way" trip in 2018.  In Portugal it becomes a different story.  The road is busy with traffic.  We're passing huge warehouses and factories along the highway.  The trucks are large and when not backed up travelling quickly.  While the shoulder is reasonably large there are places where it narrows and we're forced to the left.  Drivers are generally gracious and move around us with some space for comfort.  Yet, the flow of traffic is constant and I wonder if it is because it is Saturday.  After about 10 kilometers of the traffic Sandy wants to find a different path - breathing the fumes of the exhaust is getting old.

After checking a couple of sources - the Camino Ninja app on my apple phone has the pathways that the walkers are to follow.  In most cases even where they are gravel pathways they are wide and with the bikes we are riding comfortable to follow.  In some instances, as we've discovered, the pathways follow the same roadways we are riding along.  I know that there are uncomfortable moments for those walking alongside the traffic as they, like us, are forced to the left in the spots that the shoulder disappears.  Dealing with traffic circles as a walker must be a whole other dimension of penitence.

Along the highway

We've past the spot that the Camino turned away from the highway, but a road to our right looks promising.  If we can find a way over the rail tracks we can rejoin the Camino.  Following the tracks we keep an eye out for a crossing.  The garmin indicates that we are on a gravel road, but our eyes, ears and bottoms tells us that the new pavement has been relatively recently laid.  There is a cycle path marked on the other side of the road.  It's very pleasant and lovely riding.  Until...

We come to the bottom of a small hill and begin to prepare to climb.  As Sandy shifts gears her chain comes off and she stops suddenly.  I wasn't prepared and following a little too closely narrowly miss crashing into her.  A quick inspection tells us that her derailleur is twisted and the chain can't be returned to the cogs.  We're 20 kilometers from our destination and trying to figure out what to do.  Where is the closest town?  Perhaps we can take a taxi into the city?  Either way we have to walk to wherever the next cluster of population exists.  Luckily, that cluster, a small village is just over the top of the hill where the road leads us to a train station.  There's no ticket office so we wander around on the street.  Sandy goes into a small store and comes out with a woman who leads us back to the train station.  There's a television screen above showing the upcoming train schedule and a local train will be coming through in an hour.  She tells us that we can purchase tickets on the train.  We thank her and begin our wait.  I spend the time trying to purchase a couple of tickets to no avail - too many details to be bothered if we can simply but the ticket on the train.  Why companies insist on knowing the details of addresses, phone numbers, age, birthdate and the names of your children before setting up an account on an app is beyond me.  For a four dollar ticket it just wasn't worth the effort...

The train arrived and we proceeded to board.  Sandy began loading her bike through the closest door when I heard a shout.  The conductor was telling us to go further down the train.  The bike symbol by the last door of the train told us what we needed to know - this was where we could get on with our bike.  The difficulty was the four people comfortably seated around the compartment a the door, and the stroller locked in place to the right of the door.  A bit of manuevering allowed us to board the train.  We had five stops and 22 minutes to get into the city.  The time went quickly enough.  The train was full - not packed but the five people sitting around us didn't have seats.  We stood with the bikes blocking the aisle and moving to allow access to the WC at the end of the car.  Evesdropping we listened to a group of gay American and British men telling one another about their situation.  One, from Washington, D.C., talked about the neighbourhood and the city from which he had come.  Not sure where they were all from, or where they were going, but it seemed obvious that they had just met, were travelling together to some destination.  My imagination provided plenty of details to consider the possibilities.

A significant number of passengers left the train in Santarem.  We had a lengthy walk to a bike store that we were directed to use by the rental company.  Hopefully the bike could be repaired.  It was not going to be ridable until the repairs were made.  Santarem, unlike the countryside we'd been cycling through is not flat.  We went up and down a couple of hills from the south side of town to the north.  The route, too, was not intuitively obvious.  In the end we found a small path, crossing a creek, that got us to the store.  Entering the store we found a technician who spoke a little English.  Removing Sandy's panniers he took the bike into the store where we began to hear sounds as his examined the problems.  In the end he could repair the derailleur so it could work at about 90 percent (his words.)  The bike, a spanish make, was not carried by the company.  It needed a new derailleur hanger/drop post and they wouldn't have one in stock.  He didn't know where we might find one.  Rummaging through the tools provided by the company we found a spare hanger, but it was for the e-bike and wouldn't fit Sandy's bike.  We decided to go to the hotel and figure out our next steps.  The technician refused to be paid for the work he had done and the bike could be ridden so we headed out.

Finding the hotel became another adventure.  Old eyes, small screens, and crowded streets made following the route suggested by Google a challenge.  At one point we followed a farmers lane to his house, and another we pushed our bikes up a 15 degree sloped hill in an alley between two buildings and we rode across a parks pathway in another.  Between traffic circles, and tall apartment buildings we felt lost for most of the five kilometers.  Finally the hotel appeared.  Sandy spotted an opening beside a retaining wall at the corner of the traffic circle.  We ended up going three quarters of the way around the traffic circle, turning to the left it was the driveway circling up to the hotel.  The hotel is lovely.  Build on the edge of the city our room on the fifth floor looks out over the river plain about 200 meters below.  After showers we went in search of cold drinks.

The hotel bar appeared closed so we went to the cafe across the street.  It turned out to be a pool hall, pub, and cafe where very little english was spoken.  We managed to come out to the patio with two small beer and a bag of chips - first food since breakfast on this somewhat frustrating day.  Phone calls and Whatsapp messages with the rental company we learned we could, hopefully, get the bike repaired on Monday at the next town along our itinerary.  It's a quick repair and then we'll move on to Tomar later in the day.  Our ride to Golega is mostly flat once we get down the hill from Santarem and through the city.  It's relatively short so even with a bike needing repair we should be fine to make the ride.

Jeff didn't quite get as far as Santarem today.  His plan is to go to Fatima before returning to the Camino de  Santiago.  Our paths will reconnect somewhere to the north.  We'll see where it leads.  Hopefully God won't have other plans for our days ahead - one broken derailleur is enough for now.

Our First Day: Lisbon to Vila Franca de Xira

 1O Lord, you have searched me and known me.2You know when I sit down and when I rise up;

you discern my thoughts from far away.3You search out my path and my lying down,

and are acquainted with all my ways.4Even before a word is on my tongue,

O Lord, you know it completely.5You hem me in, behind and before,

and lay your hand upon me.6Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;

it is so high that I cannot attain it.

Finally, I got a few hours sleep last night.  We fell onto the bed after dinner.  I slept until about 3:30 am.  Then, there were things to do.  I managed to finish the final touches on this weeks Messenger and sent it out - a day late, probably a dollar short, but the information needed to go out.  Hopefully similar things will happen in the next couple of weeks.  I tried to go back to sleep, and although it didn't seem to be happening, 7:30 rolled around quickly enough.  We have to have our luggage at the hotel desk by 8 am every morning.  That works nicely enough, once we've managed it a couple of times.  Today there were chargers still charging, and the gloves that I forgot to unpack for riding once all was said and done.  On the French Camino we dropped our luggage, grabbed breakfast, and were often on the road by 9 am.  The downside was we'd be finished our ride for the day, arrive at the hotel around 1 pm praying that our room would be available.  We knew today was not going to be a long ride.  Google maps, RidewithGPS and Garmin predicted the 38 kilometers would take us about an hour and a half.  So we waited until 10.  I wrote.  Sandy listened to her podcasts and at ten Sandy said, "Keep writing.  We don't need to leave right away.  Check out isn't until 11." 

I stopped writing - I had editing to do that would be done later.  We finalized our packing.  Downstairs we got our bikes and loaded on our panniers.  Mine have a bit of weight to them.  The charger, camera, and computer providing ballast - not that I need help in that department  - but on the other hand, the panniers are provided by the company we rent the bikes from.  We have little to carry that's necessary for the panniers, so why not use them.  Sandy has our locks, bike tools, and a couple of other small items.  Since I have an e-bike again the weight isn't so much of an issue.

I barely used the power of the e-bike today.  Starting out was stressful mostly because of the tourists crowding the historic district where we stayed.  We had to pause a couple of times for adjustments in seat height and to figure out directions.  Once we found the route on the bike path along the waterfront it was smooth sailing - for about 10 kilometers.  We saw a side of Lisbon that we haven't really seen before.  North of the historic district and Al-fama comes the Port of Lisbon.  Wharves and warehouses.  Lots of trucks and traffic, but not threatening when we're on separated bike lanes.  It was a beautiful day.  20, 25 as we rode north.  Our bikes were new to us and some of their idiosyncrasies were coming out.  It took me a few minutes to figure out the controls for the pedal assist.  Not that I was using it, I just didn't know how to run it.  It's not unlike getting into a "new to me" rental car and having to figure out where the wipers, lights and other controls are around me BEFORE I start driving...constantly have to remind myself to do that...Sandy is having a few issues with a derailleur that may need attention when we get further along the road.  It's reluctant to stay in gear and most likely has a bent hanger that will need straightening.  We'll find a bike shop where, hopefully, that can be done quickly.  I think our first "rest" day is in Coimbra, although I know there's a decent bike shop we might visit in Tomar if we need to - Tomar is where the e-bike I was riding in the spring was repaired.

Selfies are not my strongest skill.  The gate behind us is the Entrance to the Old City.

Most of the time I rode behind Sandy.  The couple of times I ended up in front were mostly navigational.  Sandy would be quickly reminding me that she couldn't keep up to the power I have with the pedal assist - I'd be pulling away from her - so better to stay behind.  Actually, I prefer to sweep in any case.  I feel safer not only for myself but for anyone in front of me.  I'm big enough that if the drivers don't see me, and hit me, the damage will prevent them from killing anyone in front of me.  Really, that's not much of a worry in any case.  Most of the drivers were giving us a reasonable amount of space.

After about 10 kilometers or so the bike lanes came to an end.  In fact, we discovered the end when we made a wrong turn, maneuvered around some construction, and found ourselves on the bank of one river reaching the harbour.  The Lisbon harbour is, in fact, a river.  It's the mouth of the Tagus river coming into the Atlantic.  It's hard to tell where you're here.  It's wide and looked more like a bay - even from the planes landing and taking off from the city.  There's a major bridge near downtown that's about four kilometers across.  Another further north that's about 11 kilometers long.  And at Vila Franca de Xira another headed inland to Elvas and Evora splitting from the highway north to Porto.  At Alhandra, just south of Vila Franca the mouth of the Tagus widens into the bay that is the Lisbon harbour.  It was well before that - about 20 kilometer south that the stretch of bike path we were following came to an end.

There's a Bull Fighting Ring and Cemetery there somewhere.

Following the Camino

Shared Use Path near Vila Franca de Xira

We stopped here for lunch

The next stretch of riding had us following EN-10.  Kind of a feeder road for the freeway - the A-1 - it follows along the water.  It was narrow and had a small shoulder.  There were lots of cars, trucks and other traffic, including pedestrians.  In a couple of places it seemed we were riding more quickly than the traffic was moving.  It was stressful as trucks passed closely on the couple of small rises that we encountered.  For the most part vehicles gave us room, although in a couple of spots I wondered if they might have waited a moment for a wider space on the road.  It was industrial - heavy industrial - most of the way to Vila Franca.  I wondered about where the walkers would go.  Their route moved inland at the point where we ran out of bike path.  We rode along for another 10 kilometers or so and then the Garmin was directing us off the road onto the Camino.  We encountered a couple of the signs pointing the way; in Portugal there are several Caminos.  The route we are following is also a pilgrimage to Fatima.  Sandy and I won't go there this trip.  Jeff is planning a diversion to visit the sanctuary there.

We finally turned off EN-10 onto what RidewithGPS identified as the Camino route.  A bit of a navigating through Alhandra took us to the waterfront.  On a square we found a spot for coffee and lunch.  It was a beautiful day.  A local couple next to us had their dog with them and so we got a bit of attention from the pup.  He decided Sandy might be a good person to get to know when she took the sandwiches from her pockets.  Coffee was delivered to the table we'd chosen and we sat on the patio for awhile enjoying the view of the river, the sunny, moderately warm day.  We were in no rush.  It was shortly after noon and we were five kilometers from our final destination for the day.

Our luggage and room were ready when we arrived at the hotel.  The final stretch followed a shared use path to Vila Franca de Xira then back onto the EN-10 for a kilometer or two.  The traffic was busy.  Cars and large trucks headed to the interchange with the freeway north to Porto.  Other traffic coming onto the highway as the routes from Elvora and Elvas further east merged with ours.  The hotel is at the intersection of EN-10 and the A-1.  I've been comparing the day to riding from downtown Vancouver to Port Coquitlam, Maple Ridge in British Columbia.  Through False Creek, past the industrial areas in Burnaby, and Coquitlam to the major routes East at the Port Mann Bridge and Lougheed Highway/Mary Hill bypass.  The area around the hotel has a McDonalds, a grocery store and a couple of car dealerships (one of which is surrounded by barricades and has a large for sale sign above the door.

We walked back into the center of Vila Franca and met Jeff for dinner last evening.  The options were limited.  Some Sangria and beer at a café, then dinner.  The first restaurant we reached was closed.  A second restaurant nearby was open, the google reviews were decent, and so we went in.  What followed was a lesson in the advantages of technology as the menu was in Portuguese only, the staff spoke very little English, and we even less Portuguese.  We managed to order salads, mixed plates of charcouterie, an the easiest of all "Vinho tinto de Casa"  Several hours later Jeff began to panic realizing his hostel's curfew had passed.  We paid less than half of the price for dinner than the previous evening.  It was simpler, lighter and MUCH more enjoyable.  The restaurant was crowded with locals as we left - eating dinner, visiting between tables, loud and full of life.  It is a side of Portugal that we have not experienced a lot during our visits here.  Like a English pub a gathering place for the community.

It was a good day overall.  Our travel went without any dramatic moments.  It was challenging at times sharing a busy road with the traffic and I look forward to quieter country paths.  The preparation of routes proved to be a significant help with Google and RidewithGPS providing the best navigation for cycling from point A to B.  Sandy and I enjoy one another's company and despite moments of anxiety as we reach an uncertain point, or I begin to get too far ahead for her comfort we work well together as a team.  Our routines for the trip are becoming more established.  We know what needs to be done, and when to do it.  The hotels, while not luxourious are comfortable.  We're a little challenged getting the re-charging that needs to happen done easily - some of our chargers are struggling with the power supplies and hotels are only catching up to the technology that we now have and use routinely.  As Jeff suggested last evening, at the bottom of Maslow's hierarchy of needs, we can now add Wi-fi to the list of basic needs in a modern world.  We are experiencing the beauty of Portugal once again.  The people are gracious and hospitable.  The waitress at the cafe where we had Sangria and beer struggled humbly with her english to take our order and receive payment.  A gentleman at a neighbouring table helped her to understand that we didn't need a receipt for re-imbursement of the VAT when we left the country - ultimately this such a small amount relative to the journey it isn't worth the bureaucracy it would involve applying.

Travelling to Lisbon

 Well, we're here.  I'm feeling discombobulated.  My body still thinks it's in Edmonton and jet lag will take a bit of adjusting.  I, finally, got to sleep at around 9:30 last night - it's Friday morning here - only to wake at 3:30 and not return to sleep.  The sleep I did get felt like it was the first in three days.  Tuesday night in Edmonton was a write off as I fretted about the travel going smoothly.  Wednesday night we were over the Atlantic - 6 hours from Toronto to Lisbon - the best I could hope for was probably about 4 hours sleep which didn't seem to come...let's return to the start for a moment.

We arrived at the airport to check in two hours before our flight to Toronto.  I hadn't been able to check in online, and, sure enough, at the desk we encountered issues checking in.  They could see our flight from Edmonton to Toronto, and the flight from Amsterdam to Lisbon, but not the leg between Toronto and Amsterdam.  They couldn't print baggage tags for checked luggage, or boarding passes for Toronto to Amsterdam.  The clerk had never encountered the issue before.  After consulting a supervisor she called a person in Toronto.  She spoke with them and handed the phone to me.  Somewhere in the computer between Air France, KLM and Westjet was the information they needed.  It took about 20 minutes, standing at the desk, watching as people behind us came and went delivering their bags, but luggage tags we printed and boarding passes delivered.  On to security.

Usually at security it's one of my bags that is going to receive secondary inspection.  My camera will be tested for chemical residues, the mess of electronic cords to charge cell phones, garmins or ipads will be a problem...This trip I went through smoothly.  Didn't even have to remove my belt.  Sandy on the other hand had a change purse with Euro coins.  Somehow that can't be indentified and they have to inspect it directly.  A small inconvenience, but irksome nonetheless.

On the plane, believe it or not all went well...although they wouldn't stop feeding us.  We had breakfast at the airport, lunch an hour later somewhere over Saskatchewan, dinner four hours later over the Gaspe Peninsula.  Dinner felt like a time warp.  We'd been in the Gaspe only three weeks ago, and KLM fed me Tourtierre on the way to Amsterdam.  Three hours later I was getting breakfast before we landed in Amsterdam at 6 am local time; midnight in Toronto.  Really, the flight was good.  I really enjoy flying in a 787.  Large windows.  Upgraded ventilation systems.  It's a comfortable plane to fly in.  Three hours in Amsterdam, and three hours flying and we were arriving in Lisbon.  Border control was in Amsterdam and felt inconsequential.  The agent flipped through our passports; stamped them; and handed them back without a word - we were in Europe.  I thanked him and got a look that said, "for what?" and we passed onto a new continent once more.

In Lisbon the line up for a taxi was long.  It wound around like a snake through barriers intended to keep the cue orderly.  There were a LOT of people - tourists, students, business people.  Tourism has returned.  Taxi to the hotel and they took our bags telling us our room would be ready at 2 pm.  It was noon.  I was tired, but waling was next on the agenda.  We found our way to the Cathedral.  Bought Pilgrim passports for 2 Euros each.  Spoke with an Australlian woman there to get a passport stamped about the French Camino, and our respective plans for this trip.  She would begin walking today.  She wasn't going all the way to Santiago this trip; but would do most of the route and return another time to complete it.  She seemed astonished that we would be cycling, and we discussed the differences.  We're not going to be as challenged this time around.  Our individual daily distances are smaller.  There is less elevation change than what our Australian friend called "the hard route" - the French Camino.

Back to the hotel and our luggage was in our room.  The rental bikes had arrived but needed to be unpacked and some minor assembly.  We pulled the boxes into the street.  Our hotel is in the middle of the tourist district on roads closed to vehicles.  Lots our tourists going by.  Men on the street inviting you to eat at thir establishment - including the hotel's restaurant alongside where we were unpacking and assembling the bikes.  Cobblestones beneath us.  Sandy held the boxes and we lifted the bikes out.  Handlebars needed to be turned and tightened.  Peddles installed (we bring our own).  Connections for our Garmins to attach.  The Garmins provide navigation, and record information about our trip.  Heart rate, ddistance, cadence, an estimate of the power we generate along the way.  On the seat post we have lights with radar that warns us of cars coming from behind along the way.

Once the tasks of preparing the bikes was complete we needed to prepare our luggage.  Thankfully everything had arrived with us.  Through two of the worst airports in the world for misplaced luggage this year - Toronto and Amsterdam - our bags had come off the same plane we arrived on.  They needed some sorting.  The items carried on the plane moved around and our clothes set out for our first day of riding.  Between my exhaustion there were constant questions of "where is...", and "how are you dealing with..."  Small things that disappear easily in the morass of items to be found and put where they belong.  Items going in luggage to be transferred; others to carry on the bike in panniers set out.

Finally, a short nap.  It felt very short and Sandy was waking me.  We were having dinner with Jeff Rock who is walking the Camino as we ride.  You'll hear lots of "Jeff" as we travel.  He's planning to walk similar distances to what we will be riding.  His hostel last night is about nine kilometers from our hotel.  As I write this morning his plan was to be well underway walking towards Villa Frana de Xira where we will spend our first night on the Camino.  We'll be in a hotel;  Jeff is planning to be in a hostel.  He's planning stops in Fatima and changes to the route along the way.  We have rest days built in.  At the moment our respective goals have us arriving in Santiago on October 11th - we don't have much choice, our hotels are booked and paid for; Jeff is flying by the seat of his pants and hoping that the hostels along the way will be there and available when he arrived.  Two very different approaches to the Camino.  I'm sure the tales will be tall, and the adventures plentiful.

Dinner was good.  Cataplana for Sandy.  It's a fish stew in a copper pot.  In more rural areas it comes with lots of fish - our first experience of it was in Nazarre with Tillie and Sig Jensen about four years ago prior to riding through the Algarve.  We'd taken a tour to Batalha and Fatima, went to Nazarre for lunch, and then down to visit the medieval town of Obidos.  We'd been back to Batalha, and near Nazarre in April.  Sandy got her Cataplana on our last night in Foz do Arelho then.  I had octopus with rice; Jeff had Salmon with rice.  Great conversation.  Jeff has just been in Germany and at the World Council of Churches assembly in Munich (?).  We talked about those and the recent change in Jeff's relationship status - excited for him as his "new" partner moves from Alberta later this year having accepted the key "RING" recently.