An inland route or a longer one by the sea was the choice this morning and I came up the hill into the town still not knowing which to take. I had seen many walkers take the inland route yesterday – the Fisherman’s Trail joins on to the older Rota Vicentina for that bit – while I was having a lovely lunch in the square. And, since I’m still hating having any one in my view, the road to right and the sea it was.
A note on the usuals. They are long gone. Haven’t seen them around since Odeceixe. I suspect they were only doing the original route from Sao Torpes to Odeceixe, which would explain all the smug looks around the restaurants in the square that night.
In fact, I saw only 3 good people during the day of hell, 1 good couple yesterday, and I didn’t see anyone today until I was in the town – wonderful.
I say good but I was having a rest and this music drifted up the cliff getting louder and more intrusive by the minute. Up pops this French couple and she is holding her phone with the music blasting out of it – not even ear-poding it. Christ! I did the grumpy old man thing of covering my ears as they approached. He got the hint and as he walked away, shouted back, ‘The music of nature is better – non.’ Very much better, Jacques. Get Camille in hand.
Climbing back up to the town and its Windmill.Why is the Comparethemarket Meerkat standing on the edge of the cliff? Has he finally had enough of solving our insurance woes?Guess what this little art deco building is for. No. It’s a sewage treatment plant. Can you imagine trying something like that at home?Leaving Carrapateira and moving up onto the cliffs.Tidal wave or vandalism?Today’s challenges.The first beach and a better view of those ahead. Looks like a small white church on one of them. I’ve noticed rather a lack of churches in these sea-side towns. Wonder why?That one done. The frigging cliff was a double summit dragging me down into a little valley then up this one.Tides out so I think I can walk across that one to a path somewhere on the other side. Turns out the white church is a house, perched way up here high on the cliffs. Planning anyone? And poor Clarkson can’t even get a track built.Not seeing any path yet. And it is a steep looking MF’erThe coloured layers – thousands of years of different climate before swinging back to the norm for the grey rock. A little rock rainbow.Ah! the path is up this river valley.Conquered at last. Puffing like a steam train.Shit. Not done with the downs and ups.The beach on the north is sand, and all yours if you can get to it.While the one on the south side of this saddle of rock is all boulders. Does the other beach come raiding in the night?That down was a slippery son of a bitch.Regretting another choice face. All these downs and ups remind me of the Isle of Man but dry and warm of course. Some nearly vertical like there. Scary for both the same and very different reasons.Ok, moving into the hills, scary descents over for the day, I think.Fields of sheep. Wonderful. You should hear the tunes their bells play.
Turns out you can – just about – if you whack up the vol.Hurrah! Vila do Bispo and a much needed shower.They not only have a phallic water tower but seemed to have put it in a dress.Ha! A church.
Got a bit more cooked today. Not renewing my sun block as often as I should. Lunch in what would be classed as a greasy spoon café. Even there, the grilled whole Sea Bass would be fine enough to grace the best at home. Had more prawns which are called shrimp. A prawn is a big fucker.
Feets are very sore. Hoping a good night’s sleep will help. If only I didn’t have to get up 3 times and walk on them to the lav.
