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.
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