November 21, 2014
A Crisp Autumn Day: Serra Lousia to Olive Do Hospital
The windmill propeller winched and whirled away making as mush noise as the hum of a conventional power station. In the morning a service pickup drove pass on the track. Whether I was seen or not, perhaps the driver thought "Yes a cyclist. Where else would he stay round here, twenty kilometres from the nearest village or town"
Shortly after setting off I pass a sign: Lousia 20 km. The way down is extremely steep and twisty. I'm glad I came up the gently graded other side and not climbing this side. The road is narrow but there is no traffic save a parks pickup I let pass. Finally I round a bend and see Lousia, a largish town filling the valley down below on the left with white houses.
In town I'm stopped in a pastelaria quite a while over coffee and pastries and writing up notes for the previous day. On the way out I pull into a supermarket to stock up. A man by the fruit and vegetables says to wife, "We may need more potatoes dear" There are even English expats here.
The road onward climbs again through the wooded sides of the valley before descending to Gois and am on a national road to Coimbra briefly to a roundabout where I take a little road toward Aganil. Such a fabulous day. Crisp Autumn sunshine, yellow and gold deciduous trees blend with evergreens. The roadside and verge covered with fallen leaves. Pass small farmsteads with small pale green plots of fields along the valley before the road begins a steady climb. Cows with clanging bells move along in the trees to the side.
I stop to lunch upon the seat of an old concrete bus shelter once I've done fifty kilometres. I like my lunch alone without being disturbed. A sixty-something man on a cheap mountain bike comes grinding up the hill and seeing me stops and starts talking to me. As Portuguese has some similarities with Spanish we can hold a rudimentary conversation though it is hard work.
"Where are you from?"
"North or South?"
"North! Catholic or Potestant?"
Then seeing the union jack on my bike he points out "Your bike is English" I though he isn't getting the hint that I've no interest in such talk; just let me eat in peace, when he mentions the weather.
"Good weather today. Tomorrow is for rain" Thanks for warning me. Spoiling my day with your optimism.
I reach Aganil mid afternoon and must've taken a wrong turn on the way on. I end up on N17, a busy road with a steady flow of trucks sweeping by, a little too close when a convoy of held up cars behind a heavily leaden truck is oncoming.
I ride until dusk, camping in woodland approaching the town of Olive Do Hospital.
Today's ride: 88 km (55 miles)
Total: 8,348 km (5,184 miles)
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