March 22, 2012
Mourão
just across the border
It's four o'clock when I cross the border and there are the usual EU signs - yellow letters on a blue background with a near-circle of stars - but hidden away, a dozen metres off the road, at the edge of a ploughed field, is the old signpost. Made of stone and standing taller then me, it's covered in lichen. Call me old-fashioned, but it looks a better way of heralding the crossing into Portugal.
It takes about 20 minutes to reach Mourão, the first town you come to in the country when traveling on the N 256.1, as my Michelin map denotes it. As with other small places, it's deserted. I can see a big church on a rise, so head for that.
The streets there are cobbled and once at the top I realize it is in fact a castle as well as a church. A huge one, too. I take a few photos before starting to look for a place to stay.
Originally I thought I'd ride on to historic Monsaraz, not a million miles away to the north, but I feel cooked and a woman tells me there's one place, Casa something, and gives me directions. It's easy to find, just a minute away and a sign at the end of the street points to it.
The woman at reception tells me it's 45 euros, the same as last night, and although it's far more than I want to pay out, I'm not going anywhere else. My bike gets locked up around the back of the villa.
It's immediately clear why the rate is 45 euros. The place is immaculate, with simple but tasty décor. The bathroom, as the previous night, is a designer piece and I don't leave the room for a few hours, using the Wi-fi and writing notes about the day's ride.
The clocks are an hour back in Portugal. It's something I meant to double check.
Around nine I go to get something to eat and the young receptionist says there were three places, all near the central park - a tree-ringed square of green - and, with this being a small town (actually more of a village) it's only a couple minutes' stroll away.
The streets are eerily quiet and I pop into the first place I come to, order a beer and after a quick look at the menu, a lamb stew. The waiter brings out some sliced cheese, which is aged and has a thick rind, and I scoff that with some bread while waiting for dinner to arrive. All I've had since my jam and toast breakfast is a chunky Kit-Kat and an Energetica bar.
Today's ride: 12 km (7 miles)
Total: 696 km (432 miles)
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