7000 miles, 5 weeks, one rider, one bike, one Europe.
Discussion
Deranged Granny said:
Very kind. I have not forgotten. The next few entries are written, I just want to make sure that once I start (again), I do actually finish 
I'll set myself the target of one post a fortnight starting in a fortnight. To be continued...........
I did not expect that after a posting for the first time in over 2 years! Result! I'll set myself the target of one post a fortnight starting in a fortnight. To be continued...........Despite only discovering this story recently (I can't imagine what a lot of you have been through, the suspense…), I'm really looking forward to hearing more of the tale.
I'm going to leave you with the saying that I always remind myself when I have stuff I need to get done – 'The devil is in the distraction'
Thanks DG.
Right on cue. Apologies, there isn't much bikeyness to this next couple of posts, but bear with.
Day 8
It’s the simple things. After a week of lying on the floor in a damp and cramped tent, you really appreciate the simple luxury of a bed. Even if you are sharing the room with five strangers.
Waking up in the hostel in Lisbon is a welcome break from the previous seven days. After a proper (warm!) breakfast of bacon and pancakes, and not a Laughing Cow in sight, we plan the week ahead. We have two nights booked in the neighbouring town of Sintra, then five nights in Lisbon.
We decide to head straight to Sintra. Unfortunately, it doesn’t take much more than a cursory glance at the luggage situation on my bike to confirm that asking it to take a pillion would be a touch too far. So, it’s a Top Gear style race of train against bike to Sintra. Except much less epic and with less poweeer.
Navigating Lisbon is far easier with the benefit of daylight, and it’s just a short scramble through the centre before you’re on the main road out to Sintra.
Arriving at the AirBnB is another pleasant surprise – it’s an annex to a small estate near the coast. I dump my bags and collect my fellow traveller, the bike having won by some half an hour. Natch. We find a spot to eat, and for the second time of the day, I enjoy the now rare luxury of warm food.
The only photo of the day. Trees.
After that, we head to the coast and take in the views of the cliffs towering over the Atlantic. The cold sea air is a stark change from the 40 degrees scorchio of the day before, but it’s nice to be able to relax and take it all in without one eye on the time.
Day 9
Next day, further revitalised, we head back into Sintra town to explore and climb the two overlooking castles. The first, the Castelo dos Miuros, is as the name suggests, a Moorish castle from the 8th Century, which played a big role in the reconquest of the Iberian peninsula and eventual expulsion of the Moors. Today, it is a tourist attraction. How times change.
The view rocks
Next up is the Pena Place, which couldn’t be more different. What started off as a monastery turned into the summer residence for Portuguese royals. Today, it is also a tourist attraction.
After that, we head to a beach. Unfortunately, the weather isn’t fantastic, and I experience the first rain since Calais. No matter, two people can still have a lot of fun on a beach.
Day 10
Today is the last day in Sintra, so we head to Cabo da Roca, which is the westernmost point of continental Europe. Properly windy, and you really feel like you are at the end of the world.
After that, it’s a reverse race back to Lisbon, this time staying in a hostel near the centre. Rated one of the best in Europe, check in starts with downing a shot, and it pretty much went downhill from there. We learn there’s a local festival on all weekend, and everyone from the hostel is going. In fact, so is the whole of Lisbon by the looks of it. The place is heaving. Tiny, narrow streets, utterly packed with people and whole families, all celebrating god knows what. And it’s great. What an atmosphere.
Unfortunately, I am unable to report accurately after this - my photos all came out blurred.
Day 8
It’s the simple things. After a week of lying on the floor in a damp and cramped tent, you really appreciate the simple luxury of a bed. Even if you are sharing the room with five strangers.
Waking up in the hostel in Lisbon is a welcome break from the previous seven days. After a proper (warm!) breakfast of bacon and pancakes, and not a Laughing Cow in sight, we plan the week ahead. We have two nights booked in the neighbouring town of Sintra, then five nights in Lisbon.
We decide to head straight to Sintra. Unfortunately, it doesn’t take much more than a cursory glance at the luggage situation on my bike to confirm that asking it to take a pillion would be a touch too far. So, it’s a Top Gear style race of train against bike to Sintra. Except much less epic and with less poweeer.
Navigating Lisbon is far easier with the benefit of daylight, and it’s just a short scramble through the centre before you’re on the main road out to Sintra.
Arriving at the AirBnB is another pleasant surprise – it’s an annex to a small estate near the coast. I dump my bags and collect my fellow traveller, the bike having won by some half an hour. Natch. We find a spot to eat, and for the second time of the day, I enjoy the now rare luxury of warm food.
The only photo of the day. Trees.
After that, we head to the coast and take in the views of the cliffs towering over the Atlantic. The cold sea air is a stark change from the 40 degrees scorchio of the day before, but it’s nice to be able to relax and take it all in without one eye on the time.
Day 9
Next day, further revitalised, we head back into Sintra town to explore and climb the two overlooking castles. The first, the Castelo dos Miuros, is as the name suggests, a Moorish castle from the 8th Century, which played a big role in the reconquest of the Iberian peninsula and eventual expulsion of the Moors. Today, it is a tourist attraction. How times change.
The view rocks
Next up is the Pena Place, which couldn’t be more different. What started off as a monastery turned into the summer residence for Portuguese royals. Today, it is also a tourist attraction.
After that, we head to a beach. Unfortunately, the weather isn’t fantastic, and I experience the first rain since Calais. No matter, two people can still have a lot of fun on a beach.
Day 10
Today is the last day in Sintra, so we head to Cabo da Roca, which is the westernmost point of continental Europe. Properly windy, and you really feel like you are at the end of the world.
After that, it’s a reverse race back to Lisbon, this time staying in a hostel near the centre. Rated one of the best in Europe, check in starts with downing a shot, and it pretty much went downhill from there. We learn there’s a local festival on all weekend, and everyone from the hostel is going. In fact, so is the whole of Lisbon by the looks of it. The place is heaving. Tiny, narrow streets, utterly packed with people and whole families, all celebrating god knows what. And it’s great. What an atmosphere.
Unfortunately, I am unable to report accurately after this - my photos all came out blurred.
Minimal polar bears, guaranteed.
If you remember from my last post, which I only posted two years ago, I spent a week in Lisbon with a friend part way through my trip. This is just a brief description of that week for the sake of completeness, but I get back to the actual riding in the next post. Not sure what you mean by 'won bike' - are you talking in Trainspotting lingo?
Hopefully this blog doesn't get s
t towards the end like Lost, although it is probably already just as drawn out.
If you remember from my last post, which I only posted two years ago, I spent a week in Lisbon with a friend part way through my trip. This is just a brief description of that week for the sake of completeness, but I get back to the actual riding in the next post. Not sure what you mean by 'won bike' - are you talking in Trainspotting lingo?
Hopefully this blog doesn't get s
t towards the end like Lost, although it is probably already just as drawn out.Deranged Granny said:
Minimal polar bears, guaranteed.
If you remember from my last post, which I only posted two years ago, I spent a week in Lisbon with a friend part way through my trip. This is just a brief description of that week for the sake of completeness, but I get back to the actual riding in the next post. Not sure what you mean by 'won bike' - are you talking in Trainspotting lingo?
Hopefully this blog doesn't get st towards the end like Lost, although it is probably already just as drawn out.
We're all thinking it.If you remember from my last post, which I only posted two years ago, I spent a week in Lisbon with a friend part way through my trip. This is just a brief description of that week for the sake of completeness, but I get back to the actual riding in the next post. Not sure what you mean by 'won bike' - are you talking in Trainspotting lingo?
Hopefully this blog doesn't get s
t towards the end like Lost, although it is probably already just as drawn out.Is it a friend
or a friend
??
Deranged Granny said:
For the sake of contemporaneous consistency, she is referred to as a friend, but would slap me if I called her that now.
hmmmm a slap 'cause you fell out or a slap 'cause you're 'more than'? Your public want to know!Edited by irocfan on Wednesday 17th April 21:33
Day 11
After a slower start than normal, perhaps due to the night before, we set out exploring Lisbon in the cold light of day. Albeit it's actually 40 degrees. Hopping from one area of shade to the next, we start by making our way out of the centre, towards the cooler sea breeze.
First stop is the Ponte 25 de Abril. Think San Fran Golden Gate bridge and you're not far off.
It's a pretty awe-inspiring piece of engineering up close, especially with the roar of traffic overhead.
Walking further south west following the Tagus River out to the Atlantic, we take in the riverside buildings and eventually arrive at the Padrão dos Descobrimentos monument, dedicated to the Portuguese Age of Discovery.
Then it’s a pit stop at the famous Pastéis de Belém, an old, almost Victorian, style conservatory cafe selling pastel de nata; custard tarts. Yum. The only downside is that it’s a tourist hotspot, particularly with the kind taking photos of everything from the crockery to the fire escape.
Suitably overdosed on custard tarts, we head back to the hostel to get ready for another night at the festival.
More Ginjinha, more fuzzy memories. Nothing intelligible to report.
Day 12
Another gentle start, funnily enough. It’s a little cooler, so we make it our aim to see as much of central Lisbon as possible.
After a gentle walk through the centre, we take the classic trams up towards the Portuguese parliament.
Guards outnumbering tourists 5 to 1, it’s pretty secure.
Parliament
Not parliament
There’s some pretty interesting architecture in Lisbon, which combined with the narrow streets, give it a real old school feel.
After checking out the famous Santa Justa Lift, we climb out of the narrow streets up to the Castelo de São Jorge which overlooks the centre of the city, and we stop to take in the views and climb the castle walls.
After that, a quick bite to eat while night descends, and a little explore of the city, which is now comparatively dead following the end of the festival.
Day 13
The final day in Lisbon is spent eating more custard tarts, drinking more Ginjinha, before we head to the Museu Coleção Berardo modern art museum, and check out the Jerónimos Monastery. They’re right next to each other, and quite a contrast.
Then we call time on Lisbon, as my mate needs to get her 4am taxi to the airport, while I continue on my travels.
The end of my mini-break within a holiday – highly recommended!
After a slower start than normal, perhaps due to the night before, we set out exploring Lisbon in the cold light of day. Albeit it's actually 40 degrees. Hopping from one area of shade to the next, we start by making our way out of the centre, towards the cooler sea breeze.
First stop is the Ponte 25 de Abril. Think San Fran Golden Gate bridge and you're not far off.
It's a pretty awe-inspiring piece of engineering up close, especially with the roar of traffic overhead.
Walking further south west following the Tagus River out to the Atlantic, we take in the riverside buildings and eventually arrive at the Padrão dos Descobrimentos monument, dedicated to the Portuguese Age of Discovery.
Then it’s a pit stop at the famous Pastéis de Belém, an old, almost Victorian, style conservatory cafe selling pastel de nata; custard tarts. Yum. The only downside is that it’s a tourist hotspot, particularly with the kind taking photos of everything from the crockery to the fire escape.
Suitably overdosed on custard tarts, we head back to the hostel to get ready for another night at the festival.
More Ginjinha, more fuzzy memories. Nothing intelligible to report.
Day 12
Another gentle start, funnily enough. It’s a little cooler, so we make it our aim to see as much of central Lisbon as possible.
After a gentle walk through the centre, we take the classic trams up towards the Portuguese parliament.
Guards outnumbering tourists 5 to 1, it’s pretty secure.
Parliament
Not parliament
There’s some pretty interesting architecture in Lisbon, which combined with the narrow streets, give it a real old school feel.
After checking out the famous Santa Justa Lift, we climb out of the narrow streets up to the Castelo de São Jorge which overlooks the centre of the city, and we stop to take in the views and climb the castle walls.
After that, a quick bite to eat while night descends, and a little explore of the city, which is now comparatively dead following the end of the festival.
Day 13
The final day in Lisbon is spent eating more custard tarts, drinking more Ginjinha, before we head to the Museu Coleção Berardo modern art museum, and check out the Jerónimos Monastery. They’re right next to each other, and quite a contrast.
Then we call time on Lisbon, as my mate needs to get her 4am taxi to the airport, while I continue on my travels.
The end of my mini-break within a holiday – highly recommended!
Edited by Deranged Granny on Saturday 27th April 16:06
well done .. this looks like this will now have an ending ... really enjoying it .. thank you .. Day 14
Right, back to being a solo traveller.
After a quick final trip round Lisbon to see a few more sights and the customary faffing with luggage, it’s time to hit the road, Jack.
Having taken the time to plan my route for the day with my trusty AA road atlas, I head east, aiming for Madrid. The only problem being, after my further exploring of Lisbon and faffage, it’s already mid-afternoon and Madrid is some 400 miles away. And I’m not using motorways. God loves a trier! At least I have finally nailed my technique with securing the luggage.
Getting straight back into the groove, it’s another great ride carving my way through first Portuguese, then Spanish hills. And enjoying the dead straight, err... straights. Which cut straight through the endless bull farms, rivers and dusty hills that seem exclusively to make up this part of the world.
It’s also a relief to be back in Spain, after the slightly erratic and chaotic driving of the Portuguese. Nevertheless, I am safely over the border.
I definitely didn’t max it down here, oh noo...
Great place for a quick pit stop
You may notice that the sun is setting. And it’s setting quite quickly. And Madrid is still quite a long way away. As usual then, dear reader, you won’t be surprised to learn that I don’t make it to the destination. Once again, the road atlas shrinks things considerably, and the journey is twice as long as it looks. And I’ve taken the wiggly route.
No problem however, I’ll just find somewhere to sleep, then rise early to make up some time.
I settle for a campsite forty miles east of the Portuguese border, just outside Cáceres. Except it isn’t a campsite. It’s another farmer’s track. Because, once again, there are no campsites anywhere to be found and I didn’t see one for the entire four hour ride. Perhaps I should have researched in advance.
On the bright side, I have the farmer’s track all to myself and it’s free! I pick the executive suite, namely the flattest of all of the available slabs of granite and with the fewest ants covering it. Now a veteran of rough camping, I also know that it’s important to pick a spot with good visibility, so you minimise the chance of being run over by a farmer drunk on Ginjinha.
Check out how desperate I was, to pick this track as my place for the night:
https://www.google.co.uk/maps/@39.5993579,-6.63153...
Again, I am forced to build my tent by torchlight, but eventually, as night really starts to fall, I am forced to do away with the torch. I’ve just spotted the lights of a house, unsighted from the main road but only 200m away, and I really can’t be bothered with the hassle of being challenged. So I carry on, trying to pitch my tent on solid granite without a hammer, while being eaten by ants. I miss the hostel’s bed.
But then I get into my tent and take in the front row seat of the stars.
Maybe I don't miss the bed after all.
Right, back to being a solo traveller.
After a quick final trip round Lisbon to see a few more sights and the customary faffing with luggage, it’s time to hit the road, Jack.
Having taken the time to plan my route for the day with my trusty AA road atlas, I head east, aiming for Madrid. The only problem being, after my further exploring of Lisbon and faffage, it’s already mid-afternoon and Madrid is some 400 miles away. And I’m not using motorways. God loves a trier! At least I have finally nailed my technique with securing the luggage.
Getting straight back into the groove, it’s another great ride carving my way through first Portuguese, then Spanish hills. And enjoying the dead straight, err... straights. Which cut straight through the endless bull farms, rivers and dusty hills that seem exclusively to make up this part of the world.
It’s also a relief to be back in Spain, after the slightly erratic and chaotic driving of the Portuguese. Nevertheless, I am safely over the border.
I definitely didn’t max it down here, oh noo...
Great place for a quick pit stop
You may notice that the sun is setting. And it’s setting quite quickly. And Madrid is still quite a long way away. As usual then, dear reader, you won’t be surprised to learn that I don’t make it to the destination. Once again, the road atlas shrinks things considerably, and the journey is twice as long as it looks. And I’ve taken the wiggly route.
No problem however, I’ll just find somewhere to sleep, then rise early to make up some time.
I settle for a campsite forty miles east of the Portuguese border, just outside Cáceres. Except it isn’t a campsite. It’s another farmer’s track. Because, once again, there are no campsites anywhere to be found and I didn’t see one for the entire four hour ride. Perhaps I should have researched in advance.
On the bright side, I have the farmer’s track all to myself and it’s free! I pick the executive suite, namely the flattest of all of the available slabs of granite and with the fewest ants covering it. Now a veteran of rough camping, I also know that it’s important to pick a spot with good visibility, so you minimise the chance of being run over by a farmer drunk on Ginjinha.
Check out how desperate I was, to pick this track as my place for the night:
https://www.google.co.uk/maps/@39.5993579,-6.63153...
Again, I am forced to build my tent by torchlight, but eventually, as night really starts to fall, I am forced to do away with the torch. I’ve just spotted the lights of a house, unsighted from the main road but only 200m away, and I really can’t be bothered with the hassle of being challenged. So I carry on, trying to pitch my tent on solid granite without a hammer, while being eaten by ants. I miss the hostel’s bed.
But then I get into my tent and take in the front row seat of the stars.
Maybe I don't miss the bed after all.
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