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Countryside near Serpa
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We had never considered cycling in Portugal until a touring-minded friend started sending emails to round up a group of people. We learned it could be a warm and wonderful castle-hopping adventure. Once we had our group of 15 riders and preferences, Holland Bicycle Tours organized the hotels and routes, and provided a van and a local driver.
One of the great advantages of traveling with a local guide is that we were shown some special places that we could never have found on our own. A few of the most memorable included a magnificent church on a tiny little road, and a spectacular restaurant which one could never find without knowing it was there, and a small, totally unmarked pottery factory.
An out-of-the-way church near Beja
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Shortly after landing in Lisbon, we found ourselves in a taxi
The town wall
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heading for our hotel. The taxi ride was our first introduction to the streets of Portugal. There were no shoulders, and drivers were very fast. Drivers made a habit of hugging the guardrails while zipping around turns. Not even mopeds made an appearance on these streets. This made Rome traffic look mild-mannered. We were going to be bicycling in this country?
Bike in a park
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We didn't actually ride in Lisbon. That is why we are still here to tell about the trip. Instead, our trip started with a bus ride to a wonderful little city called Evora, where we spent the afternoon learning what many small Portuguese towns look like. A whole town of whitewashed stone houses make it clear that this is a hot country. In May we had quite a few hot days. One can only guess what July is like.
The countryside around Evora still shows much of its Roman past. A few roman ruins are still visible amongst the farms, and many towns still show the roman fortifications. While the roads are flat with a few rolling hills, the countryside is still very pretty, and the deep colors of the grass and sky are mesmerizing. In this part of the country, cork trees are everywhere.
Monsaraz
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These are somewhat odd looking, since the bark is stripped every several years, making these trees look a little like shaved poodles. Where there are no trees, there were fields of wild red poppy plants.
While the roads were fine for cars, there were quite a few sections of crack-ridden pavement, including one incredibly long ten mile stretch of cobblestones. I spent some of the trip wishing I had put somewhat wider tires on my bike. 700x28 or 700x32 would have been ideal.
Monsaraz
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As we approached the Spanish border, the earlier tension between these countries was evident. Every hilltop sported a fortified castle, some in complete ruins, others remarkably intact. There are so many castles that it was not uncommon to find a spectacular old castle that was simply boarded up and allowed to fall apart in the middle of a bustling town.
Fields
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On our third day, we reached the border town of Monsaraz. This is an old fortified town at the top of a hill that has maintained a medieval feel. The whitewashed buildings, rock walls, and intense blue sky give it a magical, almost surreal look. Climbing up the old walls can be a bit unnerving. The steps are steep and crumbling, there are no railings, and the rock doesn't look to be in great
Door in Monsaraz
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shape. Clearly OSHA has not arrived in Portugal yet. Possibly because of this, the town had a wonderful old-world charm.
Pilgrimage to Fatima
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Turning back into central Portugal, the terrain changed. A bit hillier, the land also became more arid and open, a bit like parts of eastern Wyoming. This lasted through Campo Maior, Portalegre, and Ourem. Miles of wildflowers and occasional villages to explore defined the next few days of riding.
Throughout the country, the food was plentiful and featured many variations on fish. The olives were to die for, and the quejadas – a cheesy custard tart – became a daily mission.
Penny in the Poppies
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The tour guide had provided daily cue sheets and a detailed map. This allowed for some off-road exploration, since there was always another castle around the bend. The maps in particular became essential as many of the small roads were not marked. With the map and compass, we were always able to find our way, even if there was little correlation between our route and the intended one.
Convento Christo of the Templar Knights
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In one town we ran into another tour group, that clearly had far better maps. I asked them where they had come from. They didn't know. I asked them where they were going. They didn't know. I couldn't muster up the nerve to ask them where they were. Instead, they handed me their cue sheet, which went into painful detail about every corner.
Our trip was planned so that we would ride through Fatima during one of the two annual pilgrimages to the town. For days before we arrived, people were stopping us to ask if we were riding to Fatima. The town itself was completely overwhelmed by the pilgrimage by around 30,000 people walking, driving, and some even crawling to the shrine.
On the Atlantic Coast
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Our last day of riding, from Alcobaca to Obidos, was a dream come true for touring. We rode to the Atlantic coast, where cliffs drop hundreds of feet to a rocky shore. Old windmills line the cliffs. Intense colors, wind whistling through the windmills, spectacular views, and a small winding road made for a memorable day.
During the ride that day, we ran into some roadblocks. It turned out there would be a bike race going down the same road, but they let us continue on our way. The racers stayed behind us until we reached Obidos. I waited for them, astounded that they had not blown by us earlier. After they went by, I rode behind them for a while, able to keep up until the next series of hills. It was very odd that I could keep up with a bunch of bikes, complete with racing outfits and support vehicles. It certainly wasn't like that in Italy.
Obidos
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Riding back to Obidos, I felt the familiar sadness of a completed bicycle trip. Portugal was surprising in its beauty, the odd mix of old and new world, and the charm of the rural towns.
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