« In Which I Slink Into Lisbon's Back Streets | Home | In Which I Jet Off.. Again »
In Which I Fall For The Charms Of Europe's Last Remaining Virgin
October 13, 2007 by Mike
Sines
Route: Lisbon - Setúbal - Troia - Sines
Bye bye Lisbon: I could have stayed here a lot longer, but needs must.
a) I need to find a campsite that isn't so far from civilisation -- especially when the most logical route out, hopping on the bike to get a pint of milk*, would involve negotiating Lisbon's bizarrely mis-signposted by-pass network.
b) I need to get my rear in gear. I have another flight booked back to Norwich to see the folks. The nearest cheap flight is in southern Spain.
*Martin, a good friend in Norwich who seems to buy a new motorbike most weeks, has been known to "pop out for a pint of milk and the papers" and return to his wife, many hours and 100s of miles later.
--
Ironic: as I was pulling out of the campsite I became aware of a bike behind me. Checked my rear-view mirrors and could hardly see the sky -- so big were his panniers.
Yes! Another adventure motorcyclist/ long-distance biker [delete as you see fit]!
It turns out that Mahmoud and his wife have been on the campsite all along. And.. I like to be proved right.. he's off on his Moto Guzzi, RTW panniers and all, to buya pinta milk.
Their journey -- documented on their occasionally idiosyncratic website -- is taking them round the world in 800 days (or so) to "PRAISE THE LIFE and INTRODUCE OUR NICE COUNTRY IRAN" and to raise consciousness about Maulana (also known as Mawlānā Jalāl-ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī -- so there), a Persian theologian born 800 years ago. Which makes Mahmoud a whirling dervish. Wish I'd known that when we were chatting.
He's wide-eyed with wonder at this big, beautiful world, and he wants it, and us, to be brighter, better and happier.
I can't agree with his chosen means of getting there -- religion -- and sad to say he probably won't agree with mine: I'm very glad to raise a glass to Mahmoud and his hopes and dreams.
--
Vitor had made me promise to take the 25th April bridge out of Lisbon. It's old and picturesque. But, no offence Vitor, some of yr steers in the last few hundred miles have been suspect and besides, the alternative is a 12 mile blast across the Vasco da Gama bridge. That also gives me a few more miles of Portuguese coastline, so I take the long ride out of Lisbon early(ish) on a Saturday morning. not much traffic. Plenty of sunshine. Very few roadsigns. Lots of fun.. although it does become a bit of a drudge ploughing round the grey, industrial, suburban, hinterland of the south bank of the Tagus: Montijo, Moita, Barreiro, Fogueteiro.. nobody's going to write a loving travel story about these places. Least of all me.
I was finally able to turn south and point my nose towards Sesimbra. Honest, I wasn't just heading there because the name ends in -bra. Though it did make me titter. And I'm glad I did: a very swift reminder after the grey start that I'm loving Portugal. Sesimbra is dramatically positioned at the foot of steep cliffs -- the one road in and out is worth a looooong diversion to ride -- with a fortress on top of a hill and a promenade in front of the sea. It's still warm enough for people to be flobbed out on the beach. (While I'm hard at work. Gah!) It's genteel, but not off-putting, and very attractive. I start to perk up.
Things continue to improve: everyone (yes, including Vitor) has been telling me not to miss Portinho do Arrabida. Everyone is right -- including Vitor. Not only for the little port('portinho') itself, the road itself barely a car wide, higgledy-piggledy fisherman's cottages, villas and fish resturants and fishing nets and pots and smells, but for the dramatic road in -- over scrubby hills, through forested slopes, every now and then a turn revealing the jagged coastline ahead of you.
Portugal's bikers are out in force on the road today. Some of them, get this!, even slower than me.
The good roads continue all the way to Setúbal, where I am to take the ferry to Troia and all points south. I get *good* vibes from Setúbal. "I could stay here," I tell myself as the coast road (cliffs, beaches, shady nooks) gives way to town (elegant villas, concert houses, wide open spaces). "Blimey. And they've got a top-flight football team. Could this be the one? It's special... special.. special one.. The Special One."
I snap out of my day-dream. Setúbal. It's where José Mourinho comes from. It's where he was born and, I read, where he's retreated since leaving Chelsea a couple of weeks ago. Damn! And I was really liking this place.
Slipping my sunglasses on and making sure not to look left or right, not to look anybody in the eye, holding my breath.. I zip down to the ferry port where -- maybe there is a god? -- vehicles are already driving on to the Troia ferry. And -- there is a god and she's smiling on me -- the bike is waved up to the front of a long line of cars and I'm on the ferry in a flash.
Hello to the canoeist who decided to race the ferry. You were very photogenic.
And hello to the young family I chatted to on the ferry: charming Dad, speaking very good English, with friendly advice for what comes next, and kids to shy to speak English themselves but who giggled when I told then to correct their Dad's odd grammatical mistakes. Nice people: a brief vignette of what's good about this country.
"You'll love the next stretch of coast," dad told me. "She's Europe's last remaining virgin. The whole coastline here is untouched by tourism. There are no resorts or golf clubs or marinas. She's beautiful, I think." He nodded. His wife nodded. I couldn't look at his children because we'd all just burst out laughing. "She's beautiful, yes. Europe's last remaining virgin."
I decided I'd hang around.
[LATE NIGHT UPDATE: She's still a virgin.]
--
Comments
Leave your comment
Latest comments
- By robert and peter in Diary
- By Wayne in Diary
- By Boris in Diary
- By Sandy from Leeds in Diary
- By Sascha in Diary
- By clive marie goldwing in Diary
- By carlos pascual in Diary
- By Erkut Dora in Diary
- By david gwilliam in Diary
- By Nick in Diary
- By Mike Bowyer in Diary
- By Dick With in Diary
- By Gordon in Diary
- By KC in Diary
- By steve in Diary
- By Mike in Diary
- By Sascha in Diary
- By P Dawson in Diary
- By Mike in Diary
- By Helen in Diary
- By Mike in Diary
- By KC in Diary
- By Sergiu in Diary
By steve | October 24, 2007 5:51 PM
On a grey afternoon in Birmimgham your diary entry is a shot in the arm and makes me itch to get the bike out and head for the open road! Thanks for brightening up my day! Steve