ACT Portugal 05

 

Shortly after breakfast we wished Barrie safe travels as he headed south to collect the adventure truck, two days of fast riding awaiting him. For the three musketeers remaining, the Duro valley, with mile after mile of vineyards, would be our destination to the north.   

Just 140miles of dirt and dust separated us from that sweet taste of Douro Valley wine. 

Below, a signal tower. Didn't actually look to be capable of signalling much other than needing repairs. 

Some respite from the dust in a green valley. We're following the ACT stage two route today, the landscape is not as breath taking as yesterday, but ACT keeps you moving with purpose, where the TET meanders like a drunken stumble home. 

There was a smog in the air today that a trucker explained as dust clouds coming from Africa.  Wherever it came from I was allergic to it.  I sneezed and weezed my way through Portugal nourishing and watering the land with my nose. 

It was a mare, respite only coming when my nose was blocked. 

 Sexy bar-steward.

At approximately 14:30 each day the heat is at its most intense. There is no cooling effect as we ride along, just a hot continuous blast of air like you're sitting in the flow of the world's largest hair dryer. 

Small villages dotted in the burnt landscape offer water fountains, an oasis in the desert. We stopped, washed off the dust and poured water in our boots. 

Life looks to be slow for the locals. They sit in the shade and chat, almost always with a bottle of beer and fly swatter.   This friendly bunch invited us to join them in their shade. Sarah drawing attention, the sight of a blonde haired woman under the dirt and dust not being the norm. 

My other memory of this stop was the flies! They crowded and swarmed and pestered like we were a traveling dung buffet.  I'm guessing our kit wasn't exactly meadow fresh, either that or they were just sick of eating pensioners. 

After 8 or so hours we reached the Duro river. Large cruise ships crowded this port, each had a swimming pool adorning the roof. 

We stayed in a small town called Ville Nova de Foz Coa. The town was once grand, but now many places had been ravaged by the sun and fallen to ruin. 

Our hotel, Casa Vermelha, was a particularly stunning period property with high vaulted ceilings.  We were the only guests and the proprietor lived there. 

..she was friendly and hospital and big on God. Jason described her as a cross between a Roman Catholic alter girl and a Ewok. 

Just some of the decor... 

We drank in a local bar for €1 a beer and ate at a local restaurant. The guy looked like Mike Moss from my work and laughed at me when I asked for a burger. Apparently that was the kids menu. He brought me a steak instead. 

Handsome. 

137miles covered today.