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.