March 29, 2012
Vila Velha de Ródão
Castelo de Vide and more of Alentejo
The tourism lady had told me where to go as soon as I arrived in Marvão late on Tuesday afternoon. In fact she used her biro to draw circles on my photocopied Michelin map around Castelo de Vide, Nisa and lastly Vila Velha de Rodao - each en route to Castelo Branco and told me, knowing full well that I was cycling, that it was 90 minutes there by car.
I reckon it'll be a good day's ride.
I thought we might see each other again as I set up my tripod outside the arched gateway next to the tourism office, to take what turns out to be the first and last photo of me riding in the pretty place, but she doesn't seem to be at work.
The time is just before 10, a little earlier for me, and the sky is a wonderful blue - great for photography - but it's deceptive and I have and need my blue fleece top on. The morning air is particularly crisp, even more so when swooping fast down for five or so kilometers and the speed has my eyes watering.
The right turn at a roundabout at the bottom is signposted for Castelo de Vide; abbreviated to simply C. Vide , and shortly after another sign along the narrow N 246-1 informs me it'll be just another 7 km to get there and in my mind it won't be that long before I'll be able to enjoy a second cup of coffee, and maybe, if I'm lucky, a chocolate croissant to go with it.
My jacket soon comes off while riding along the flat. It feels much warmer and the wind was behind me. Old trees with their trunks painted with fat white bands line the road and my speed was decent, almost 30 km/hr along where the incline isn't noticeable. There's a slight rise, followed by a drop into the town, which has the signs of being a tourist destination.
Smart cafes with polished aluminium tables and chairs and large parasols are out on the street greet me, but I keep going towards the church spire and what will be the old part of town. Two elderly men wearing traditional flat caps are sat on some steps, having a chat, then I walk my bike up a hill, up a cobbled alley, towards the castle. It'as a short walk; just a couple of minutes.
The castle looks insignificant so I do a 180-degree turn, drop down a lane that runs almost parallel to the one I came up and it goes steeply and I walk, stopping to take a few snaps of the cobbled alleys.
It's while taking a photo that disaster strikes. There's a good opportunity for a shot: a narrow alley rising up and I've pictured myself silhouetted at its top. Noticing me set my tripod up, a passing woman asks if she could walk on, and of course I say yes. My attention distracted, the tripod and weighty camera fall over with a crash. Yikes!
There'ss a big dent in the very top of the camera body; I look through the view finder and something is clearly wrong; I swap lenses. Thankfully the camera works okay with my big zoom, so it's the wide-angle lens that's actually damaged. Looking at it, the focusing ring is askew; not something that could be fixed easily - if at all. Hardly a year old, this Carl Zeiss lens is an expensive piece of kit, something in the region of 1,300 UK pounds. What shit luck.
The post office is just a couple of blocks away and inside I package it up and send it back home for Debbie to see if it can be fixed. After that distress I need to sit down for a while, so have a coffee and as it's now noon, order a toasted ham and cheese sandwich for lunch, which I enjoy outside the café with my Eee PC connected to the place's internet. Debbie gets sent a message with the sad news.
With the aid of a strong back wind, I whiz towards a dot on my map named Póvoa e Meadas, along a wonderful country lane that has no traffic. This is the route advised by the tourism lady. She knows what she's talking about.
After crossing an old dam, climbing a little, my speed touches 60 km/hr going down into to Nisa, only to find the place dozing. I ride around for 15 minutes, then head out on a small road towards Pe de Serra.
This is a mistake.
Had I carefully looked at the map, I'd have seen this is a dead-end route, but I don't realize until after slogging up a long, particularly steep hill (one bit so bad that I get off and walk) to the very top part of the hillside village, where a sign points to a couple of villages not on my map. A local farmer confirms there's no alternative but to go back. That's around 30 minutes wasted.
The junction is one I'd noticed as it's signposted for Vinagra. The village is just a few houses about a kilometre along a narrow road and also isn't on my map, which indicates the route is now scenic - denoted with a green border. It doesn't, however, appear any different to what's gone before.
I enjoy another high-speed decent to the Rio Tejo, where a long bridge takes me to the edge of Vila Velha de Ródão, which the train station has as simply the last word - Ródão.
My computer reads it's been a 70 km ride, which is enough for one day, while the station clock says it's almost 5 o'clock and the timetable states the train to Castelo Branco is at 7:11 PM. There's over two hours to kill.
The Ródão tourism office is just up the hill and the helpful woman there spends a while waiting to talk to someone at the railway company and my doubts about putting a bike on a train are eventually confirmed: only if it's bagged. Not a chance. She agrees when I say Portugal is weird and that unlike most of Europe, it lags behind the times when it comes to bicycles and public transport.
My day is over. She says there's a cheap place to stay nearby - back across the tracks and make a left - in a café that has rooms. Sure enough, it's just a few minutes later that I'm standing at its bar, using gestures to the man behind it, trying to explain I want to sleep there. Successful in that quest, the room the young worker shows me is basic, but at just 10 euros a night (a record low!) it'll do just fine.
Castelo Branco - a mere 90 minutes away by car and yet still almost 30 km to the north - can wait until tomorrow. Right now a beer is needed - big time.
Today's ride: 73 km (45 miles)
Total: 1,039 km (645 miles)
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