March 25, 2012
Alandroal via Redondo and Freixo
east-northeast on N 254 and N 373
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My computer reads almost 5 km when I decide that enough is enough. The Roman Temple marked on the tourist map I have proves elusive and riding around the cobbled streets of Evora vainly looking for it is starting to wind me up. I head out to the bus station.
I've a bad feeling about this bus. The woman at the ticket office who takes my twelve and a half euros says no bicycles, but I explain I came yesterday and that the station supervisor said there wouldn't be a problem: It's Sunday - surely not too many passengers are going to Portalegre on the sole, 1:30 PM departure.
He isn't there, as I knew he wouldn't be, although the other English speaking supervisor, an equally affable guy, also thought it'd be okay. He tells me to go have a word with the driver, gesturing to a short guy with cropped hair and a stern expression standing by bay number 8.
What a Nazi. There's no way my bike is going in the hold, despite there being room for it; the mere idea is an affront to his dignity, his self-esteem: a complete dick.
Even more wound up, I ride off to get on the N 254, a road that, once I've got on it, isn't too busy. Signposted for Renondo, 30-odd kilometers away, I make a mental note to get there and then see how things are. Obviously it's already gone 1:30, so half the day has passed me by.
The wind is stiff, blowing straight at me. The landscape rolls slowly, reminding me of Lincolnshire in England, my original home. It's a matter of pressing on, a ride that makes me understand why some people dislike riding a bike. There's little to enjoy; it just seems hard work.
A sign at a left turn shows a dolmen image and points to a village called Friexo. My Michelin map shows the route heading north for a handful of kilometers, then intersecting another back road that runs east-ish again, so I decide to make a little detour, basically to get off the workaday N 254 more than anything else.
Clearly it's the same countryside comprising of meadows, olive groves, rows of grape vines and what have you, and I'm heading basically the same direction, but now the ride seems better, simply because the road is more of a rural lane; more tranquil; more like a bike ride should be.
The dinky, comatose village of Freixo has a snack bar open (a nice surprise), so I stop for a cold drink and treat myself to a Magnum chocolate ice cream. Things suddenly seem even better.
The nearby Stone Age dolmen, some 5,000 years old, is a bonus, with the top slab still sitting in place - or maybe reassembled.
Cork oak and olive trees line the road east, which curves gently and goes up and down before rejoining the N 254 at Redondo, where I pause at another snack bar for another cold drink.
From here there's no choice but to pedal along the N 373, as I'd decided not to bother looking around Redondo and instead make it to Alandroal, which appears, for some unknown reason, like it might be more interesting.
Today's ride: 65 km (40 miles)
Total: 841 km (522 miles)
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