tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52374332973721954302024-03-14T05:20:07.173-07:00Pedal ToursBicycle TouringPam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5237433297372195430.post-30415860655845843822011-08-24T13:38:00.000-07:002014-09-06T16:46:54.200-07:00The Hard Way Over the Alps<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Or the story of the...<i>Tyrolean Superhero.</i>. Today we started off heading by car from Innsbruck in to the Brenner Pass, which connects Austria to Italy, and headed to Vinaders. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex, The Tyrolean Superhero</td></tr>
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Just parking the car for the start of the ride after building back up the bicycles was a scenic event and from the car park we headed out, our first goal being Obenberg am Brenner and the beginning of the off-road section of today's what was soon to be epic ride. Starting on the pave with a nice 10% grade was what is known by the Tyrolean Superhero, Alex, as a nice "warm up" for what was to come. Alex is also the partner of our pregnant and therefore unable to ride and therefore incredibly bored friend, Susanne. The pavement steadily climbed as it wound it's way up the valley and through the small villages or Dorf as they are called here. </div>
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Arriving at the first goal of the day, the parking lot of Obenburg am Brenner, we began the next section, of course climbing, along with hikers, strollers and the elderly. With the 10 to 15% grade of climbing the Californians were passed by walking elderly Tyrolean and Alex was fairly flying, at times lapping back to see where the Slowski's (that would be us) were. Two track climbing up and up, dodging at times the hikers and stollers, mountain bikers racing back down the long extended climb we finally come to the Obenberg See (Lake).<br />
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Riding around Obenberg See, scenic, sweet and flat (insert an ahhh... here), we began the climb of the day. Or more exact, the epic climb of the trip. A hard hiking trail, a mountain biker's nightmare, and Alex's daydream. We were headed to Port Joch, Joch being the German word for saddle. The singletrack turned into a singlertrack of steps and we could see the saddle high above us.<br />
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That tiny blue spot you could barely see over the tops of the trees as you hiked and biked up up stair steps. Oh did I mention hike? Hike a bike? Push a bike? Push a bike up a running creek? Why is Alex barely breathing while the Slowski's are gasping for breath? Maybe it was because we were now hiking at 45% and our bikes our on our shoulders. <br />
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All along the way the route is marked, as is every hiking or biking trail in Austria. Painted on rocks or trees the Austrian flag in red and white, or the route number with blue and white, identifies the trail or where you are. Signs are posted at crossroads of trails pointing in the various directions with the villages or destinations accompanied by the amount of walking time that it will take to get there.<br />
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Up and up we climb with the small speck of bright blue sky peeking out from the trees, beckoning us up and onwards. Climbing up steps, climbing up singletrack that are really small creeks, always with Alex calling us on, waiting at the top of the a switchback far, far above.<br />
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Finally we are rewarded with attaining the saddle and the view of the Obenberg See, far down the valley and the arduous hiker/biker climb we had just finished. Upon arriving at the top, we found Alex sleeping in the Alm (meadow) in the saddle, apparently lulled asleep by the long wait and the sweet sounds of the cowbells in summer pasture. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Tyrolean Superhero prods the cyclist along with his foot to get moving. Port Joch can been seen far in the background.</td></tr>
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But the sweet smell of success was soon dashed as we turned around and to view the next section and the wide grin of Alex. High up over our heads loomed our next goal, the true Port Joch. We had only attained a mid-mountain Alm. So rest we did and looked longingly at the jeep two track that was winding up over the far horizon but not in the direction that we were going. And while hints were made about a cross country trek to the jeep track our Superhero would have none of it, urging us onwards and upwards. <br />
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And it was onward and upward.. on the hardest trail we have ever done, climbing up 1800 feet carrying and pushing bikes. At times the Alex, could be seen riding along doing lifts, but it would only be for 5 meters or so when he would fling his bike up and over his shoulder and stride ever so easily up the trail. We had thought after doing the Scotland C2C that we had attained some level of fitness but we were quickly discharged of that idea watching Alex. Without a doubt it was a struggle. Altitude plus steepness plus stair step trails laid us low and we staggered up the hill, our own Everest. 30 steps carrying the bike, rest. But eventually we arrived at the Joch, to find Alex, shirt off, bib straps down, laying in the Alm on the top of the Joch, sleeping.<br />
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At the top of Joch we crossed over into Italy and began a wonderful rolling single track. On the edge of the Stubai mountain range, 2700 feet straight down to the valley floor, we rode centimeters from the edge. Like flying we rode along, on the edge of the world, clouds out in the distance. Looking down you felt like your were being pulled out into space. Singletrack happiness. Mountain biker dream. All led by our friend, Alex. Some days you just get plain lucky. Darn lucky. You get an Alex in your life.<br />
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We rode along the single track, always on the edge, Alex leading, taking every opportunity to fly off a ledge, huck a jump, playing all the time. Some of us,hmmmm who would that be.. concentrated on staying actually ON the singletrack. Eventually the singletrack became two track of the most historical kind.<br />
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We were riding along the very edge of Italy and Austria, meeting every so often the barricks and buildings of Italy in their attempt to protect their borders. First starting after WWI and then reinforcing in WWII, the myriad of embattlements and fortesses begged exploring. At one point Alex stopped to explore as did Lowell however someone else ( me?) had Sufferfest going and it was stop and finish the trip<i> kilometers</i> before the end, or just keep climbing. <br />
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But finally we reach the the downhill section upon attaining the Sattelberg. True downhill, singletrack, rooting, rocky, steep. One of us is kinda blurry and tired but Alex points out the magic elixir, way, way down at the bottom of the valley. So close but so far away. Beer. The Sattelberg Alm with it's fabulous recovery drink on tap, not to mention rooms, hot tubs, sauna......<br />
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<br />Pam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5237433297372195430.post-22539002460501678212011-08-24T13:37:00.000-07:002011-08-25T01:03:18.170-07:00The Hinterhorn..<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4lRAM0kpGmKy5LsesnAndHFsUh1JOvO-i6vafgUW-oqlHyZuYrUJMZs1R0o1qTm-f44AEsIP46DADrpeFatXPT4yVuXVJ4vdGq99U_e23K-wUio2ShImbj_53MF-dFX94ZWzwKI78xyE/s1600/AUSTRIA+AUG+2011+076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4lRAM0kpGmKy5LsesnAndHFsUh1JOvO-i6vafgUW-oqlHyZuYrUJMZs1R0o1qTm-f44AEsIP46DADrpeFatXPT4yVuXVJ4vdGq99U_e23K-wUio2ShImbj_53MF-dFX94ZWzwKI78xyE/s320/AUSTRIA+AUG+2011+076.JPG" width="240" /></a></div> Arriving in Innsbruck we deemed it would be great to go to one of our favorite places by bike. There were somethings however that we had not considered. One was we have never been in the Inntal in summer, always in late fall or winter.<br />
Second we had never been there by bicycle, only the roundabout way by hiking up and into the Karwendal range, down a valley, up, out and eventually to the "Carrot Platter Please!" Place, the Hinterhorn.We called it that as they have an assortment of donkey's and llamas that watch you eat and always laugh about what they would order.<br />
We started out in Innsbruck and if you haven't been here it is a urban riding heaven with bike paths and bike racks everywhere and with a few exceptions lots of respect for riders. Weekends you will see lots of club riders out. Off we go down the Inn River cycle path to the town of Hall and began climbing up to Absam on a local singletrack. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8mX_yog2IDA73gebG_CMqB6QDNdrpbxM_feztJQ-5god1rBUczlZMCuMbpxqzpDLzgCepxk8GFUiHk4QoLBJNpFbFVkfGcEgupj6w69RQKvtPnfJ7sGQ2_csi0ahC3WLc_Riwi77fxNU/s1600/AUSTRIA+AUG+2011+034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8mX_yog2IDA73gebG_CMqB6QDNdrpbxM_feztJQ-5god1rBUczlZMCuMbpxqzpDLzgCepxk8GFUiHk4QoLBJNpFbFVkfGcEgupj6w69RQKvtPnfJ7sGQ2_csi0ahC3WLc_Riwi77fxNU/s320/AUSTRIA+AUG+2011+034.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> With a little negotiation of local roads we got onto the correct one and happily began climbing some more on our way to Gnadenwald. And then we climbed some more.. as the heat of the Inntal became apparent. Starting at 2 in the afternoon we had expected the Inntal to be a cool summer wonderland but found out that it's summer is heat and humidity and soon we were soaked with the effort.<br />
It should have been a hint of things to come as we made the turn off and in passing the toll booth ( for cars only) that written on the pavement was Hinterhorn Challenge. And challenge it was. The majority of the ride is a series of switchbacks that climb up and up until finally passing the treeline. Rarely does the climb drop below 10% and it was almost always 14-17% at times reaching 21%. <br />
This type of gradient over long extended climbs is unusual but for here we now know it as a norm. At times we had to stop and we were often passed by the amazingly strong Tyrolean riders on both road and mountain bike, out for their evening ride.Up and up you go on the switchbacks, thinking and hoping that you are farther up the climb and the next switchback would be the last until you see the kilometer mark painted on the pavement, dashing your hopes.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR4qFjDOM8sy8gXk_xfgwU_s4p2-dFMGxFMJTNKs8DpZksYqFTLJBl_g9IaqRMjhFRO23UUhL9EG_WKR_7GC0zKt-RGEYoGLg39_E3Bz_6bz8e3I5CGegDPdD2K4fS6xskVH5PffYZQ4M/s1600/AUSTRIA+AUG+2011+073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR4qFjDOM8sy8gXk_xfgwU_s4p2-dFMGxFMJTNKs8DpZksYqFTLJBl_g9IaqRMjhFRO23UUhL9EG_WKR_7GC0zKt-RGEYoGLg39_E3Bz_6bz8e3I5CGegDPdD2K4fS6xskVH5PffYZQ4M/s320/AUSTRIA+AUG+2011+073.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> Riders coming down the hill would encourage us with "Super!" Many of them had passed us and were now on their way down. Hikers coming down the more direct trail would whisk by on their way down. One older gentleman came up to us and after informing us that it was only 3 long switchbacks to go leaned in very closed to my face and said in German, "it's near, have courage" and laughing hard to himself turned and headed off down the trail.<br />
Finally clear of the switchbacks you exit the treeline. The approach to the Hinterhorn is a long extended climb across a mountain face until finally reaching your goal and the privilege of lining your bike up along the fence with all the other cyclists who have made the climb. <br />
Cool water and cold beer await, substantial meals for those that want them, all perched on an outcropping high above, and overlooking the Inntal. Pam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5237433297372195430.post-59537161022654566662011-08-24T01:43:00.000-07:002011-08-25T00:32:59.579-07:00Edinburgh<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Sb8nT-iiPPV_PDQGT5j4Hd3luxAIQNdOVvpfro4BtAL6i2OhPA6sHF4EcY3NeD6OCE8ZM1ssPj6GKw2RelHluptdbYmeLjaY2Vq8VwFTPvJqCoYzw5v1Dmd1ORXB4X1t5-_6MLDvICk/s1600/Scotland+coast++to+coast+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Sb8nT-iiPPV_PDQGT5j4Hd3luxAIQNdOVvpfro4BtAL6i2OhPA6sHF4EcY3NeD6OCE8ZM1ssPj6GKw2RelHluptdbYmeLjaY2Vq8VwFTPvJqCoYzw5v1Dmd1ORXB4X1t5-_6MLDvICk/s320/Scotland+coast++to+coast+006.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>After finishing the Scotland C2C we had a rest day in Edinburgh before flying out to Austria and so off we went on a wander around. A great bus system started us off right and we were at Waverly Station between Princess Street and the Royal Mile in a few minutes. <br />
We knew that August in Edinburgh would be hectic but we had no idea of how much so. The Military Tattoo occurs at that time at Edinburgh Castle and the Fringe Festival occurs all over the city but centrally on the Royal Mile. Packed with people we salmon-ed our way up to the Castle to start our wanderings.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg42BCy1CeEHDoQZ44wORm5cFsyenkSdHaOKB5YIKS-uEyPQWFHWagKTKILMwisLfnYAqfGVuzyAspeIG7SYtjh17YTDdsK6bl5GJoJsCyTDFBEb657fEaOyN8eULRW7ZLqY4d23KnpUAc/s1600/Scotland+coast++to+coast+015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg42BCy1CeEHDoQZ44wORm5cFsyenkSdHaOKB5YIKS-uEyPQWFHWagKTKILMwisLfnYAqfGVuzyAspeIG7SYtjh17YTDdsK6bl5GJoJsCyTDFBEb657fEaOyN8eULRW7ZLqY4d23KnpUAc/s320/Scotland+coast++to+coast+015.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> Heading down the Mile we weaved in and out of people, actors and plays. Celtic singers and Halloween dressed festive participants were liberally sprinkled between the visitors, inviting you to participate in their own little part of the Fringe. Working on down we stopped off into a pub for a respite of cold beer where the manager gave us a souvenir beer glass.<br />
We were on a little mission to go the the Wells o' Weary, or St. Margaret's Wells for as the story goes if one drinks from them you will always return to Scotland. With my little flask in hand, the search was on having visited them some 25 years previously.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA_CRhyTKvi1yekVhE6ftMpoeKSnnpbsFuwA6_ru8rLItFVrKqx-Xxp1ueqFapa2HYImrkmXz0nnc80cq87A-lccTDMbsZuypIGaTWTHagdF0wJQyVxftD47pSbxluZS1BJWwSkORrRVY/s1600/Scotland+coast++to+coast+011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA_CRhyTKvi1yekVhE6ftMpoeKSnnpbsFuwA6_ru8rLItFVrKqx-Xxp1ueqFapa2HYImrkmXz0nnc80cq87A-lccTDMbsZuypIGaTWTHagdF0wJQyVxftD47pSbxluZS1BJWwSkORrRVY/s320/Scotland+coast++to+coast+011.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Down to Holyroodhouse Palace and around the back, things had noticeably changed in all those years, in particular a new Congress building being added. But with some direction from local security there in the hillside of Arthur's Seat were the wells that I had been searching for. Fenced and grated the only water you could access was the fetid pool of algae filled water in a basin. They say that being a flexible traveler is the best traveler and so then and there we decided that in the changing world the new water of Scotland would be a good Scotch and off in search of our New Well's o' Weary we went.<br />
Not too far either I might add as right behind Holyroodhouse Palace and across from the Wells was a Fring Fest Food Festival and we wandered in. Right past security we went, right through the entrance, right past the ticket booth selling the entrance tickets we wandered. Directly to the free Scotch tasting booth, unbeknownst until we were tasting our new water of Scotland that we should uh..probably uh.. have stopped and paid. However we took our free entrance directly to the new Wells as a welcoming sign from Scotland and proceeded to avail ourselves.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia9CJfG0s0UcoNE4FgCaViydMU8ao0-XD3Zm79wqHGj18s8vV5cIrAidZuUTcFZBf68aNwf5q2UHCvKHDdI5kZstoOne1S73y7f5aYIVS1FCbtHh_-3cxcDLAlBpRRJBX8RlolHytAcGk/s1600/Scotland+coast++to+coast+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia9CJfG0s0UcoNE4FgCaViydMU8ao0-XD3Zm79wqHGj18s8vV5cIrAidZuUTcFZBf68aNwf5q2UHCvKHDdI5kZstoOne1S73y7f5aYIVS1FCbtHh_-3cxcDLAlBpRRJBX8RlolHytAcGk/s320/Scotland+coast++to+coast+008.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> Thoroughly refreshed we headed off to wander more through Edinburg old town and happened upon a favorite and famous pub, the Cafe Royal. Fabulously decorated and with a large assortment of ales and scotch we each began our own tastings and after much standing in the after-work packed pub acquired a table.<br />
Long and leisurely we enjoyed our choices but notice some tired standers and since we were near the end of our drinks offered up our coveted by many table. It was a great choice as it introduced us to two wonderful couples and we engaged in conversation, sharing stories and laughs, exchanging cultural notes. Admittedly, the small moment in time that resulted from the sharing of a table was the best pub experience one could wish for and with that we ended our tour of Edinburgh and headed out. Unfortunately we had some file corruption and lost photos but we would like to send a grand hello out to our new friends..Margaret, Sandra, Terry and "El Georgio", George. If you happen to see this we would love to get a photo of you folks! <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOhBykwRplHKDG-DSkfrwD_k0EiLTJ7EvfVaWrwArFcy4MWnLZwvf7bKH4eRFh5KvTQhE6pEelYBcjzbns6V1EpQBhuJ5BE-YB0G6ZBHk79P-3THIuvlSDZE05OZJuHMniSpxSWGdy5vg/s1600/Scotland+coast++to+coast+007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOhBykwRplHKDG-DSkfrwD_k0EiLTJ7EvfVaWrwArFcy4MWnLZwvf7bKH4eRFh5KvTQhE6pEelYBcjzbns6V1EpQBhuJ5BE-YB0G6ZBHk79P-3THIuvlSDZE05OZJuHMniSpxSWGdy5vg/s320/Scotland+coast++to+coast+007.JPG" width="240" /></a></div> Finally I would like to say thanks to Martin and the staff at the Quality Inn, Edinburgh Airport. We chose the Quality Inn as it would save us paying for shuttles to the airport and made our drop off with Trailbrakes easy. What we didn't know when we chose them was how wonderful we were going to be treated. They stored our hard shell bike boxes for us while on the trip, they provided an area inside because it was raining to break our bikes down in, their maintenance department provided us with a tool for our bicycles when ours broke. Breakfast was included but they cooked a special vegetarian full breakfast for Lowell and of course free WiFi and the shuttle for us and our bikes picked us up at the front door and cost 1.50 gbp! It was a fabulous stay and Martin was especially helpful and kind. Thanks!Pam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5237433297372195430.post-37710028176227830762011-08-23T02:15:00.000-07:002011-08-23T23:58:15.697-07:00What Do We Think of the Scotland C2C?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3v8mNiibKAKg0POFVTW2Uyhe04zaBkljJo7fYob_WvwcOkhsbNnL84rv1t40Ja_MSnf7WywVplJsQyWrzMlXAvC39cIjQaq-XMpjtNw65LJVR_TXBdXvnMScbJpFydVyCtlMoITyzscY/s1600/scotland+coast+to+coast+105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3v8mNiibKAKg0POFVTW2Uyhe04zaBkljJo7fYob_WvwcOkhsbNnL84rv1t40Ja_MSnf7WywVplJsQyWrzMlXAvC39cIjQaq-XMpjtNw65LJVR_TXBdXvnMScbJpFydVyCtlMoITyzscY/s320/scotland+coast+to+coast+105.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><b><i>About Guided Trips?</i></b>... we were hesitant about doing a guided trip since we had previously always done our own trips independently. However on this trip we were invited so it was a choice on our part to join our friends and it was our first mountain bike tour as all of our previous tour had been on road with touring bikes. What did we think?? Hands down the group decided that a guided tour was awesome!<br />
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<i><b>About Trailbrakes as a Company?</b></i>..The short version, we loved them. We have to admit that we are tough judges, the majority of us having been professional guides ourselves in one form or another so we know the pros and cons and would like to think that we are fair.. so here's a bit of a breakdown.<br />
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<i><b>Let's start with reservations</b></i>. We had actually booked with another company almost a year in advance, which was Scotland Mountain Biking.(www.scotlandmountainbiking.com). <u>I don't recommend them</u>. Why? We made our reservations, paid our deposit and the only contact we received was a Paypal notice and then a sentence that seemed to be auto generated stating that they were changing their website. (Their website was pretty flash) Mind you we weren't the group organizer who did receive a thank you more details to follow email. We gave it some latitude as it was October and we were booking for August but we thought we should have a bit more personal contact.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsBpzpeuKaTS0D03KyXk70sSJXDBu5jkHN5qsQ_Rls1Nzk6m8Dftdjq9lJdW2kmyCbWje13cMvpYcy2YH5FYZKjesSOHcHnsPs_wSrVo_kUxwV0xxMYibAmOWdlniU7rPzqAgQAAFwIkw/s1600/Scotland+1+071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsBpzpeuKaTS0D03KyXk70sSJXDBu5jkHN5qsQ_Rls1Nzk6m8Dftdjq9lJdW2kmyCbWje13cMvpYcy2YH5FYZKjesSOHcHnsPs_wSrVo_kUxwV0xxMYibAmOWdlniU7rPzqAgQAAFwIkw/s320/Scotland+1+071.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> However 7 months later there had been no effort on their part to contact us and we began contacting them. To make a long story short.. no emails or contact on their part and finally a late (for us) cancellation by them of our trip. We had to contact them to request our deposit back as they had not addressed it in their cancellation notice. To be fair, when we did ask for our deposit it was immediately returned and we had been told that their guide had had an accident that prevented the running of the trip. However we felt that overall there were way too many holes in their performance, their problems started way before the early June issue with their guide. In searching for another company we found that they had also canceled multiple other trips, even more last minute than us. <br />
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On the other hand.. with<b><i> Trailbrakes </i></b>(www.trailbrakes.co.uk<b><i>)</i></b> our emails were immediately returned and included detailed answers to our questions. We had an excellent back and forth discussion regarding details of our trip even though it was late in reserving. They contacted every person on the trip not just the group leader. We were accommodated in all of our needs including but not limited to bicycle hire for one of our group, personal food requests including gluten free and vegetarian and multiple pick up points and end trip drop offs including Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Peebles. It was tailored to us.<br />
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<b><i> The Route</i></b>...There are multiple routes in multiple areas of Scotland for the C2C. We chose Isle of Skye to Stonehaven. We recommend that you take a look at a map of Scotland when booking a trip as many companys do a shorter version. Trailbrakes has several versions depending on your desires. It <b>IS</b> coast to coast and while the majority of it is off road it is not entirely singletrack and there are parts on jeep track, two track, gravel and paved. It also includes in all it's glory mud, muck, bogs, bugs, sheep poop, hills,climbing, rain, creek crossings, bike hiking and lots of riding.<br />
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<b><i> Guided Trip versus Self-Guided...</i></b>.Having a guide allowed us to do nothing but ride, no route finding. Yes you can do a self-guide but we really enjoyed the services that our guide provided, knowing just where the creeks are to be crossed, always getting the single track option, add ons of more riding for those who wanted it and shortening sections for others. There was a definate magic of doing absolutely nothing but riding while all was taken care of for you.<br />
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<b><i> Services...</i></b> We can't say enough about this part. You get to choose with Trailbrakes your level of services which is not the case with the other companies that we looked at. we chose a combination of hostel and B&B. We can't say enough good things about James, the driver and services manager, who provided most of the non-riding related services. Every night our baggage was in our rooms. Our personal food items in the fridge. If we needed something while we were out riding it was picked up for us. Postcards mailed each day, beer (yes that was important for our trip!) cold in the fridge. Drive to you to the shop for personal items, direct you to the pub that had free internet.. Didn't feel like riding?? He'd show you around. Super funny, a great guy. We loudly sing his praises. <br />
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<i><b> Our Guide.</b></i>.Pete is a guide's guide. With all of our personal guiding experience we were going to be hard to please but Pete hit all the marks. An strong, skilled rider and extremely knowledgeable in all the different variations of routes, each day was smoothly put together and directed by him. An excellent conversationalist, you felt like you were riding with your long time friend and not just a guide. He made sure the stronger riders were challenged and the less experienced riders were coached and encouraged, attaining levels of riding they had not thought possible. He had a patient way of moving riders along without seeming pushy when we were demonstrating our lack of readiness skills. Always smiling, always organized, Pete could be seen at night while we were relaxing wiping down forks, adjusting someone's bike.<br />
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<i><b>Last but not least.. the Midges</b></i>.. those famous, small, little no see-um bugs that we had heard so much about..were actually a rarity. Did we see them? Yes. Were they an issue? No. <br />
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<i><b>Finally overall experience...</b></i> of the Scotland Coast to Coast and Trailbrakes..a beautiful country of welcoming, friendly people, warm and inviting hostels, B&Bs and pubs with great food and excellent ales. Ancient history all over the landscape, a plethora of types of terrain to ride, incredible scenery, an amazing trip with a 5 star company that we can only highly recommend. We would do it again in a heartbeat.<i><b> www.trailbrakes.co.uk</b></i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZYNPR03vcTjy-UfPqe9gRTbXbE8pQfAXvVyM8rU5mHzA0Y6mKGyCySCVuNd2Q9pWkWgYrO0GSjckBJpOxlfRNoZAt7QcF6qJRxfnW8nEuFvj_Ekt8zypE6yzFMRfem28GecPhORhu7L0/s1600/Scotland+2+045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZYNPR03vcTjy-UfPqe9gRTbXbE8pQfAXvVyM8rU5mHzA0Y6mKGyCySCVuNd2Q9pWkWgYrO0GSjckBJpOxlfRNoZAt7QcF6qJRxfnW8nEuFvj_Ekt8zypE6yzFMRfem28GecPhORhu7L0/s320/Scotland+2+045.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Pam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5237433297372195430.post-37626059041199883322011-08-22T15:46:00.000-07:002011-08-22T15:46:43.165-07:00Edzell to Stonehaven, The End of the Trail<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOuf8fz2fri79wX4J44RD25UKtumDBOdTFlLkmU8rmc6DmPNgv2z89itwCLu4fLKTAbF4cXkpX_dFDckNwdwhHRu6WYu4W8rgnR9HY4Ks88N0AdL_4YewTyxcSSXiSBpm5il2_9fsLTBA/s1600/scotland+coast+to+coast+092.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOuf8fz2fri79wX4J44RD25UKtumDBOdTFlLkmU8rmc6DmPNgv2z89itwCLu4fLKTAbF4cXkpX_dFDckNwdwhHRu6WYu4W8rgnR9HY4Ks88N0AdL_4YewTyxcSSXiSBpm5il2_9fsLTBA/s320/scotland+coast+to+coast+092.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> Our night in the B&B in Edzell was nothing less than delicious. The owners were over the top in their attentiveness, rinsing our bikes off, putting our shoes in to dry. Clothes hung up to dry, warm snug rooms.. everything the traveling cyclist could want. Our morning was the same. Lunches packed for us, bikes brought out and lined up, a full Scottish made to order breakfast including vegetarian. Why oh why would one want to leave?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr5N7Q9zDtbET5AbRqWuwXOIP8kct2aEYc5vbIpr1QO1Vsj5lyVcfYvu7KiDaB-PyVwFUMsTmr4xrojDcTU1gp2oNEVx2fqDkwTxt0Fvi73XAp-FKpoyPsn7Cb6o84F8ga1oQ_KHj-saw/s1600/scotland+coast+to+coast+101.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr5N7Q9zDtbET5AbRqWuwXOIP8kct2aEYc5vbIpr1QO1Vsj5lyVcfYvu7KiDaB-PyVwFUMsTmr4xrojDcTU1gp2oNEVx2fqDkwTxt0Fvi73XAp-FKpoyPsn7Cb6o84F8ga1oQ_KHj-saw/s320/scotland+coast+to+coast+101.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> But things needed to be finished and as cyclists know, you always just have that little bit more to make your goal and you just have to finish it ..today was the end of the road and it dawned bright and shiny. Getting so near the ocean and denser populations one would think that back country trails were limited but again we were off in the places and spaces of the quiet.<br />
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Eventually we came to more and more populated areas winding up and over the hillsides of the east coast of Scotland interacting with more roads, cars and daily life. <br />
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Villages would give way to farmer's fields and then the fields would give way to the people. The trails, single track, farmer's track, sheep track, jeep track, double track finally gave way to the paved..<br />
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Until we came into view of our goal, the ocean. The east coast of Scotland. We had made our goal. We would agree, it turned out to not really be what we wanted. It was great to have accomplished what we set out to do but we were done. We are cyclists and better would have been to have just kept on riding but the ocean and time made that impossible.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjNGnbqvb9lzzZrZ5ZognWD5I4XztXpttmH-ltJIh4x4ZXmck9bzGvK-A3kvZV_z9sd5pZkyc12SXid9d3xC3DAaGX5LBT-slEhP89D_gpTv9lT9Bn-8w7Ia3TSmGwn-xD2d2MruT2UhA/s1600/scotland+coast+to+coast+114.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjNGnbqvb9lzzZrZ5ZognWD5I4XztXpttmH-ltJIh4x4ZXmck9bzGvK-A3kvZV_z9sd5pZkyc12SXid9d3xC3DAaGX5LBT-slEhP89D_gpTv9lT9Bn-8w7Ia3TSmGwn-xD2d2MruT2UhA/s320/scotland+coast+to+coast+114.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Entering Stonehaven</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPhF2C8fvxOUKnkaym9agZEiQuoxPQYNtGGZtanLkKbkDw4-DQJvvVkYtsM6PgC33dQFqdfRaTfu5RJWyzRMJXN_SQaA8jL2tb6CO_vkfHrdeHsDtBabm4IunfzzUaFBWkcthoMtCsHwM/s1600/scotland+coast+to+coast+117.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPhF2C8fvxOUKnkaym9agZEiQuoxPQYNtGGZtanLkKbkDw4-DQJvvVkYtsM6PgC33dQFqdfRaTfu5RJWyzRMJXN_SQaA8jL2tb6CO_vkfHrdeHsDtBabm4IunfzzUaFBWkcthoMtCsHwM/s320/scotland+coast+to+coast+117.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Happy for our accomplishments and sad for the end of our great adventure we made our way through Stonehaven and down to the sea for the ceremonial tire in the water.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyzfzzrNBF0Oz8tCw_oUwXGm7RArhYEuajX5ZM4IajtyTFGWTSwZcZVt6ZNwbLUYZGDFFQfrdbqdr7eGQwWuTyjm8b67B9LuYOy_ORI6PKCbD5-WBgZSNjtqnjuhMGk3bI4jW5Ota_87Y/s1600/scotland+coast+to+coast+135.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyzfzzrNBF0Oz8tCw_oUwXGm7RArhYEuajX5ZM4IajtyTFGWTSwZcZVt6ZNwbLUYZGDFFQfrdbqdr7eGQwWuTyjm8b67B9LuYOy_ORI6PKCbD5-WBgZSNjtqnjuhMGk3bI4jW5Ota_87Y/s320/scotland+coast+to+coast+135.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Fortunately it wasn't the end of the road and we rode a few hundred meters more to the end of Stonehaven harbour for celebration...<br />
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And with the east coast of Scotland firmly under our feet we reached the end of our trip.Pam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5237433297372195430.post-5190734398465642682011-08-22T14:46:00.000-07:002011-08-22T14:46:02.333-07:00Ballater to Edzell<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNk0xiFWjacm6LF1CXzpmcq4uuUSZxOJ3m1f9GbEYworvgUF9_BA_izMnEXAQhXZiRhOYqZcy_EGzKlYr54RiwW4ra4VpDZX0Q9AoMKTD5z8OuFFfUZYFTVBTLHjuSiz6lJlfwUy6bw74/s1600/scotland+coast+to+coast+037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNk0xiFWjacm6LF1CXzpmcq4uuUSZxOJ3m1f9GbEYworvgUF9_BA_izMnEXAQhXZiRhOYqZcy_EGzKlYr54RiwW4ra4VpDZX0Q9AoMKTD5z8OuFFfUZYFTVBTLHjuSiz6lJlfwUy6bw74/s320/scotland+coast+to+coast+037.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> <br />
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Today started with a few less members of the group riding, deciding to spend some time off the bike and walking around the sights of Ballater, Royal Deeside and Balmoral Castle. For those riding however it turned out to be quite a choice day and at the end of this day all of us that rode agreed that this was probably the best day in a whole series of great days. <br />
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Starting with riding out through Ballater we began climbing up and out using pathways that wound through old established homes and estates and then into the woods. Climbing, climbing we entered into the higher hills of wilderness Scotland.<br />
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At points we traveled past old stone walls circling pastures of sheep, across our usual and daily encounters with streams. Streams became a daily part of mountain biking the C2C but after the first few encounters they became just another part of riding due in great part to the invention of the drying room and judicious use of newspapers. Sheep were also another part of daily riding including the search for the "Sheep of the Day" photo. <br />
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The single track itself was very varied. Meadows, rocky technical bits, fields of ferns, heather and another new one for us which was a long technical stretch of climbing a single track that had turned into a running stream and was all roots with lifts. Sorry, no photos for this one! Too darn busy to shoot photos but it was so awesome<br />
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This day was a perfect slice of Scotland with a little taste of every kind of trail and terrain that Scotland had to offer. Riding through giant fields of ferns on singletrack was something that none of us (except our guide Pete of course!) had ever experienced before. It was pure magic and in it's own way was a form of technical riding.<br />
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Each rider was in their own groove, moving over terrain and enjoying the freedom of just riding. There is a simple joy in just riding, reaching that level that pushes technical or endurance ability, learning a new terrain skill, wheels rolling, legs pumping, rhythmic breathing...just riding..<br />
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Every day on our C2C trip was in isolated wilderness just touching in villages as we would move from one mountain range to a valley and onto the next range. However this day seemed to be hundreds of miles from anywhere..with of course the occasional smattering of sheep on some small farm..<br />
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Eventually we moved through the rolling hills of Scotland and began climbing in earnest and came upon one of the great single track climbs of the trip, at times reaching 20%.<br />
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One of the great things about climbing is that through all the suffering that you so truly as a cyclist enjoy, there is the reward first obtaining the top..<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnj_pnm54ifRUco7RnIBXuI40ixXTXi6mvUyLL06rfpHKGZTWxPshxKCOsDT5OkQziSmirvhrXJZRV82ZMmRpZNc2G9X3X9WXhwBWZYYwS5DaJhU7xi3fuE6peuV4qzUgEBi0ToOSUVYY/s1600/scotland+coast+to+coast+090.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnj_pnm54ifRUco7RnIBXuI40ixXTXi6mvUyLL06rfpHKGZTWxPshxKCOsDT5OkQziSmirvhrXJZRV82ZMmRpZNc2G9X3X9WXhwBWZYYwS5DaJhU7xi3fuE6peuV4qzUgEBi0ToOSUVYY/s320/scotland+coast+to+coast+090.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> At last we came to the end of the route and exited onto the last few kilometers to our accommodations, but we had a choice...take an extra off road route or do the paved into the town of Edzell. Each chose their own way and the group split at this point, some sitting on a bridge having a "second" lunch in the warm sun and shooting photos and the other "group" (our guide, Pete, and Scot) taking the "highroad" and riding the trail. While the trail folks might have been having their fun on dirt the paved cyclists had the most excitement. The pave wandered though a game reserve of sorts with partridges scattered all over the field and road. Riding by the birds would fly up into the air and then further down the road, repeating this over and over again. At one point a farmer was out hunting and as the birds flew up and the cyclists rode by on the lower track the farmer shot at the partridges which also happened to be right smack over the heads of the the unseen bikers! It was just a little more motivation to put some leg on the pedals and head for town, a reunion of riders and of course beer. At the end all arrived in Edzell feeling that feeling that only cyclists have when finishing a great ride. And we all agreed.. it was a great ride.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjSl5vGYX9FeRj2MR5ZZmffYWuRYdEW4y2Ze1Y7rugFb42e6ux2r2Hq4UZsN3LIkhvgwmEw28mUSDaBIW8YG1YtoQIR0ss55NdAoxocrC1P1NEeoZTa7pZnZPypKMlHXrF2bvKSRc-EDI/s1600/scotland+coast+to+coast+040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjSl5vGYX9FeRj2MR5ZZmffYWuRYdEW4y2Ze1Y7rugFb42e6ux2r2Hq4UZsN3LIkhvgwmEw28mUSDaBIW8YG1YtoQIR0ss55NdAoxocrC1P1NEeoZTa7pZnZPypKMlHXrF2bvKSRc-EDI/s320/scotland+coast+to+coast+040.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sheep of the Day</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Pam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5237433297372195430.post-36242420852246053722011-08-22T02:23:00.000-07:002011-08-22T02:23:42.203-07:00Tomintoul to Ballater After several days of the weather holding well for us, we were treated to a day in the saddle with rain forecast for the entire day. Now a Scottish weather report always holds a little of everything... sprinkles, sun, clouds..<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pete from Trailbrakes</td></tr>
</tbody></table> But today's forecast was not only for rain the entire day, it was a correct forecast and so the trip started for some with a quick ride to the local shop for dish washing gloves to go over cycling gloves. Unfortunately the selection was not great and so some had gloves too small which eventually proved detrimental, and Susan, cursed once again with any new cycle gear she purchased being immediately be damaged. In this case torn as she pulled them on!<br />
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As the day rolled on though the cold began to set in on some of the crew and as a bothy came into sight spirits lightened at the thought of a nice fire and some hand warming with lunch out of the elements. <br />
Those that had the dishwashing gloves found that they were only a little better off than those without as the gloves were small and tight which made your hands cold anyway.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_VFTNTvjdixKOvoTwb4Xt1Jd-kRZTCidAV7UWpQIE_vt2I6GjEAvRqgpD7lHccZvAcvITSAPdjhBxph6Ifv5jyUzsxTlmNlqZ5Fv23lJ5F_3W9nPIvK_7KblKRSLOr0UkAV3UHetw6e0/s1600/scotland+coast+to+coast+017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_VFTNTvjdixKOvoTwb4Xt1Jd-kRZTCidAV7UWpQIE_vt2I6GjEAvRqgpD7lHccZvAcvITSAPdjhBxph6Ifv5jyUzsxTlmNlqZ5Fv23lJ5F_3W9nPIvK_7KblKRSLOr0UkAV3UHetw6e0/s320/scotland+coast+to+coast+017.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>We ended our day climbing out of the valley and onto the road to drop quickly down to our destination, the town of Ballater which is the town related to Balmoral Castle, the Queen's summer home, in the area known as Royal Deeside. <br />
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Pam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5237433297372195430.post-27419288083301140212011-08-19T01:37:00.000-07:002011-08-22T00:46:21.541-07:00Aviemore to Tomintoul<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div> We started with deliciously dry shoes from the fabulous drying room at the Aviemore Youth Hostel. One of the things that we have learned from this trip that we will certainly take home with us is the use of newspapers to dry your shoes. Stuff them full of newspapers and change every few hours until you go to bed and in the morning you'll have dry shoes! Of course the dry air of the drying room certainly helps..<br />
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Climbing up and out of the meadows we ascended into high hills of heather that we passed through on decomposed granite single track. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-LKm_x4CF5Z-QF56ICqt0ed73uh69y09lapJLscLbUzrD2hvETqNaXVjAeduIaiwJ-OVwOXF66N62HwTdGEcr6GB6KYZbpPuCkjhDx79Q_kqkT0HPVD3tMd4qjffZvS2T0eaM4ARm8Hc/s1600/Scotland+2+095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-LKm_x4CF5Z-QF56ICqt0ed73uh69y09lapJLscLbUzrD2hvETqNaXVjAeduIaiwJ-OVwOXF66N62HwTdGEcr6GB6KYZbpPuCkjhDx79Q_kqkT0HPVD3tMd4qjffZvS2T0eaM4ARm8Hc/s320/Scotland+2+095.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhchER7OKIF6WrWB9WgrScDYrxGSXkp73yfecaFhRWDVnwpUrd6x6Q_I29EWBNYa-HLfr-6ZLCt1o_Dcx6pHeQkRvgYqWVidUCQcCqjTPDZkz4yB_l4PZJGADlLdoXXdM0bz0atueF1SQ/s1600/Scotland+2+137.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhchER7OKIF6WrWB9WgrScDYrxGSXkp73yfecaFhRWDVnwpUrd6x6Q_I29EWBNYa-HLfr-6ZLCt1o_Dcx6pHeQkRvgYqWVidUCQcCqjTPDZkz4yB_l4PZJGADlLdoXXdM0bz0atueF1SQ/s320/Scotland+2+137.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>As is the norm on every day of the Scotland Coast to Coast, river crossings were included in all their various forms..<br />
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( Thereby the necessity of drying rooms and newspaper stuffed shoes!)<br />
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..and we continued up and down through all the landscapes that Scotland has to offer.<br />
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The fabulous weather held until we reached our destination in Tomintoul and we had moved along so well on this day that we arrived early to our destination and had to avail ourselves of the local pub until the hostel opened.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5gaRwhWVOjuBdaRdpB7Xh-6-XA9jEwLsKJCLFe6aW0g1jxixZwYUm8aLwAcHqEoVP5dvEBPeG3VpnBI6f6iI1iQQiIE4nUPlWHSpconPO0oe8zi97auoq7KRwqJbDUkhsbln6VhqVLFI/s1600/scotland+coast+to+coast+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5gaRwhWVOjuBdaRdpB7Xh-6-XA9jEwLsKJCLFe6aW0g1jxixZwYUm8aLwAcHqEoVP5dvEBPeG3VpnBI6f6iI1iQQiIE4nUPlWHSpconPO0oe8zi97auoq7KRwqJbDUkhsbln6VhqVLFI/s320/scotland+coast+to+coast+010.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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Pam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5237433297372195430.post-63415049607468885792011-08-11T13:13:00.000-07:002011-08-11T13:13:37.878-07:00Laggan to Aviemore<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR5WHDZUdNPtCAipb3XQQVI7cLUmzOY2ZRtlFj54-xT7A2_QMLtpPkTQ_f8oRg193szTg0swxLSYjsCVITxXKm7dFRdo3TSxZHVlI_lzGD5MKhDXrxKFctoiP7PlnFjtKAZq6M8Q586kI/s1600/Scotland+2+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR5WHDZUdNPtCAipb3XQQVI7cLUmzOY2ZRtlFj54-xT7A2_QMLtpPkTQ_f8oRg193szTg0swxLSYjsCVITxXKm7dFRdo3TSxZHVlI_lzGD5MKhDXrxKFctoiP7PlnFjtKAZq6M8Q586kI/s320/Scotland+2+005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> The morning started off with a rainbow and that was indicative of the entire day. Heading down the road the climbs began at once and wound through incredible views. Past farms and cottages we began rolling up into the high hills and territory of the Scottish Pines. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNvIfhSJRxEpbn3xVvGYO29SxxyUFRTswG_pmMNSsQ_6i8xA_9DawOiEW-VujmCZCzIMCczjnvBcoUbqUoqkdP62DF_ELCg1sxEp5ORWZsuusfO_x5g7KO_wQtM30xPti6it7-IhfuW3A/s1600/Scotland+2+027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNvIfhSJRxEpbn3xVvGYO29SxxyUFRTswG_pmMNSsQ_6i8xA_9DawOiEW-VujmCZCzIMCczjnvBcoUbqUoqkdP62DF_ELCg1sxEp5ORWZsuusfO_x5g7KO_wQtM30xPti6it7-IhfuW3A/s320/Scotland+2+027.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> Today we were given all the Scotland could offer a cyclist. Fine cycle paths, two track through deep wooded forests, wide paths through estates and national parks, past lochs, through streams and meadows, bogs and bridges, all hooked together by fabulous single track. Nothing too easy, nothing too hard, the technical riders loving it, the least experienced of the crew learning new skills and feeling their accomplishments. <br />
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Blue skies intermingled with heavy clouds and the grey sheets of distant rain. But the weather held for us and was a cool treat, even at times having a wind at our backs pushing us along.<br />
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It was a picture perfect day, all and everyone enjoying themselves as we rolled through Newtonmore with their wildcat statues made to bring awareness to the preservation program of the Scottish Wildcat. <br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAkR8DIbG6SAUiptLojeOL2sFUjNDmYmlVBTSy-invd1wyoaWcjO3AIufHdvi1y14XOsGoLTzpZWQd2yy0UVYSZ7E13C_SSP34LQE_zh1ZL08K9ijd9zI3LvaXHfMgBLDTR9Aazqgfwm0/s1600/Scotland+2+031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAkR8DIbG6SAUiptLojeOL2sFUjNDmYmlVBTSy-invd1wyoaWcjO3AIufHdvi1y14XOsGoLTzpZWQd2yy0UVYSZ7E13C_SSP34LQE_zh1ZL08K9ijd9zI3LvaXHfMgBLDTR9Aazqgfwm0/s320/Scotland+2+031.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Susan rides past an old croft.</td></tr>
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The wind and the weather held as we moved deeper into the forest and then out onto heathered hills of Scotch Pine laden in single track. Riders raced down singletrack and through streams, up and over hills, past more ruins until passing out again to a route that took us past the Ruthven Barracks. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU4BIfPXERziQ19qQ3y6htkn3XCzm-FhUzU5B5CekKpw4TL6VpNpLzeHLcz4J7pV9J8rje35CkK8TuC35as45ZTEzc08EnaaZ6fYi9rp4DPLsMLWNgJbOqXBszPheWSaXxv2gmlCclS9g/s1600/Scotland+2+018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU4BIfPXERziQ19qQ3y6htkn3XCzm-FhUzU5B5CekKpw4TL6VpNpLzeHLcz4J7pV9J8rje35CkK8TuC35as45ZTEzc08EnaaZ6fYi9rp4DPLsMLWNgJbOqXBszPheWSaXxv2gmlCclS9g/s320/Scotland+2+018.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ruthven Barracks</td></tr>
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Back into the forest until entering the estates and their manicured paths that surrounded Aviemore. Past castles in lakes and pools of lily pads, the last miles were easily laid until we crossed the last stone bridge and exited the path right into the Aviemore Hostel. <br />
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Bunkbeds readied, the evening finished with a dinner of Indian food which filled up all the empty spots and a final pint or two at the Winking Owl.<br />
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( A few extra photos posted below.) <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAH3-J94B5jLzb0wTTjgCUw73acmnhQRNOxlvog2OF2OxxodjUWZhKickLedh16KfWm7rGpX7sWfPfESW5Iro6L_xsl5kdtdcGtcOIuWxcVZxvyywE5CcNMxWAM7qW4C3yvVdZPjDwpH4/s1600/Scotland+2+048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAH3-J94B5jLzb0wTTjgCUw73acmnhQRNOxlvog2OF2OxxodjUWZhKickLedh16KfWm7rGpX7sWfPfESW5Iro6L_xsl5kdtdcGtcOIuWxcVZxvyywE5CcNMxWAM7qW4C3yvVdZPjDwpH4/s320/Scotland+2+048.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scot's creek crossing technique.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIMN9i1VL_tT77WUnhnQKF5GF5GnWll4PrNpso3skRZxtXkOzcZQMfrz114iA8ZRvmUOkyc07ChhefRaLhWE8X-GAa-oD0T9PTbP0qpclQVwi1wrG3NJ99ilOQjNIEgkjPfztGp8R4Ni4/s1600/Scotland+2+064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIMN9i1VL_tT77WUnhnQKF5GF5GnWll4PrNpso3skRZxtXkOzcZQMfrz114iA8ZRvmUOkyc07ChhefRaLhWE8X-GAa-oD0T9PTbP0qpclQVwi1wrG3NJ99ilOQjNIEgkjPfztGp8R4Ni4/s400/Scotland+2+064.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Susan rides the roots.</td></tr>
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Pam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5237433297372195430.post-56120550043817935292011-08-11T11:44:00.000-07:002011-08-11T11:44:06.233-07:00Rain, Rain, Go Away.. or Maybe Not...as the case may be..it was not going to go away and had instead decided to pound down..<br />
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Scheduled today was the Corrieyairack Pass with big climbs and some definitely rocky terrain. Some of the crew had already decided to have a bit of a rest and relaxation day but as the day dawned with dark clouds and rain streaming down the alternative plan came about... although we'll hand it to the Trailbrakes crew they were ready to roll! <br />
There was the usual laundry to be done and Fort William with it's stone buildings and cobbled old town awaited. A few of the crew went shopping after their experience of the day before with the rain and noting that what they had brought along was not only not designated rain gear but not even sufficient.<br />
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Fortunately, it seemed that all of Fort William's shops had sales going on so everyone that wanted gear was outfitted quickly and cheap. A bit of shopping for dinner later and lunch in a pub with hand drawn ales rounded out our visit and we were off again.<br />
Heading back out into the Scottish countryside we were more than happy about of choice a rest day and were delivered by the Trailbrakes staff to the Dalwhinnie Scotch Distillery for a tour. They had a wide variety of tastings and tour, the crew voting for the tour and I chose the tasting. It was a great move as I had my own private tutor, had 3 drams and learned a lot about Scotch Whiskey and even gained an appreciation that I hadn't had before. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtYmTke1bhvLB57P1aYA1hJUiK7xOv6nMw_cPIsint0kUxNIMfhALyDaZnDAX53Fd5hCI5Tj7vmLA8vlgFfUPWy2Xkk6lAyS5PvIdp5UIwyfyv_xUFEWbeZL-ZgHkrEXVb-MNCbocAIXQ/s1600/Scotland+1+025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtYmTke1bhvLB57P1aYA1hJUiK7xOv6nMw_cPIsint0kUxNIMfhALyDaZnDAX53Fd5hCI5Tj7vmLA8vlgFfUPWy2Xkk6lAyS5PvIdp5UIwyfyv_xUFEWbeZL-ZgHkrEXVb-MNCbocAIXQ/s320/Scotland+1+025.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pub Dinner</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lowell on the Ferry from Isle of Skye to Mainland</td></tr>
</tbody></table> The other folks felt the same about their tour so it was a well ending afternoon. Off to the Potter's Cottage Bunkhouse for the evening we met a couple of nice ladies from Edinburgh and London and a lad from Isle of Skye working in the area. Great dinner, good beer, fabulous company ended the day. Here's a few extra photos to make up for the lack of riding....<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2mOiVC7_8Axw8hZsDrGAHJZrStF7soLww6KfKzPJXmQ05IVEqjTYAegRHZ78Rh7vzQbUHbOK-pzzQJQd5a3NnNjWsjUzNDZHABAbSpXddbrrldV2LqEWBhOd-3ktXR32MTnw6kOE0yPI/s1600/Scotland+1+013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2mOiVC7_8Axw8hZsDrGAHJZrStF7soLww6KfKzPJXmQ05IVEqjTYAegRHZ78Rh7vzQbUHbOK-pzzQJQd5a3NnNjWsjUzNDZHABAbSpXddbrrldV2LqEWBhOd-3ktXR32MTnw6kOE0yPI/s320/Scotland+1+013.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scottish Highlands with Mist</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx7OIdwQUooIklLqK5IeBSl3EB6IJVFVshxns8f2cbfOTFpsWWGzuZNtdMIVB5brbSIfWXngLzpWzFXhkBoUGMaX4xEcRPCMt9BA15_-YnHEukW2T2ASjznJdYPghoKJCV5bX4kKGKjvs/s1600/Scotland+1+094.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx7OIdwQUooIklLqK5IeBSl3EB6IJVFVshxns8f2cbfOTFpsWWGzuZNtdMIVB5brbSIfWXngLzpWzFXhkBoUGMaX4xEcRPCMt9BA15_-YnHEukW2T2ASjznJdYPghoKJCV5bX4kKGKjvs/s320/Scotland+1+094.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from the Broadford Hostel</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Pam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5237433297372195430.post-26791050988701703442011-08-11T10:48:00.000-07:002011-08-11T10:48:03.707-07:00Broadford to InvercarryOver 100 kilometers and 6000 feet of climbing... or so we think but the Garmin shut off. It could have been more, it probably wasn't less.<br />
Riding directly out of Broadford Hostel we headed along the coast and began a long extended climb up and eventually over a series of ridges before coming down a fabulously steep, well paved road directly to the ferry that was to take us to the mainland. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLVJrB2xKRkQP5oMLk6CFddGun1-60MP_mgOvq0FSyf5pFqSDsoKODuROFWZYdGGgPg7esKeEQ-US46cCWxSYBYsEnMknxzTjKjSP64AUzUc5qnAAX8F5flWczhEGBk-FyVMUrhWqrZmo/s1600/Scotland+1+097.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLVJrB2xKRkQP5oMLk6CFddGun1-60MP_mgOvq0FSyf5pFqSDsoKODuROFWZYdGGgPg7esKeEQ-US46cCWxSYBYsEnMknxzTjKjSP64AUzUc5qnAAX8F5flWczhEGBk-FyVMUrhWqrZmo/s320/Scotland+1+097.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> The ferry is purported to be the last of it's kind in the world. It holds 2 cars and 12 passengers on it's deck and the deck spins around for the cars to exit the ferry upon arrival at it's destination. Passing over clear aqua waters with golden kelp, we watched seals play in the strong current as we crossed. Kudos go out to the ferry who gives discounts to cyclists. The Ferryman captain rides up and down the route that we just did everyday to and from work!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYP_hTAkXzGsdT3rE82V-vtMOra477REi6wP3TsewL3c27H3csZui-mKQdlVbvmnuVN2rJmjHFgZAY7PgbTn_aJpDIJ0HjeWcb-v9kLLeGluBC0mti_ZVGQ3QUb8Mha96UDv9Opnizoyk/s1600/Scotland+1+103.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYP_hTAkXzGsdT3rE82V-vtMOra477REi6wP3TsewL3c27H3csZui-mKQdlVbvmnuVN2rJmjHFgZAY7PgbTn_aJpDIJ0HjeWcb-v9kLLeGluBC0mti_ZVGQ3QUb8Mha96UDv9Opnizoyk/s320/Scotland+1+103.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Heading from the ferry we began a series of climbs over long and rolling hillsides finally cresting to the top where we were welcomed by a great view a cool breeze that gave relief from climbing in the hot sun. We continued our fast descent ending up in a cobblestone bay lined with a few houses. Waiting in the shade of the trees on the edge of the bay for the crew to re-group we were joined by a man who regaled us with stories of his son, now a mountain bike mechanic in Aviemore and the start of his cycling career at the age of three!<span id="goog_331844653"></span><span id="goog_331844654"></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVCeqiH9avwRvdnL8DEc0Neph84FxaSIMfrcdprKL2iNv_vKklZ9eXqcpoW_XGpA9jBPy_y6j9Fx3rGJS7w2nLclpp0X7_hAkG1EcYuap6nGRA1q00YiX5xn975Nj4X3sx1cyiiOq4Le8/s1600/Scotland+1+110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVCeqiH9avwRvdnL8DEc0Neph84FxaSIMfrcdprKL2iNv_vKklZ9eXqcpoW_XGpA9jBPy_y6j9Fx3rGJS7w2nLclpp0X7_hAkG1EcYuap6nGRA1q00YiX5xn975Nj4X3sx1cyiiOq4Le8/s320/Scotland+1+110.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>We headed out making a sharp left up a valley following a winding two track past a herd of red deer that included bucks with exceptional racks of antlers. Crossing a bridge we began a long and difficult climb of scree track crossing over another bridge and past rapids and waterfalls. Up over the hills we followed the track that wound us along the edge of the valley that was our passage through the ridges line up in front of us. At one point a creek crossing was required however everyone but Pam took the bridge. Her choice was tiptoeing across rocks since she didn't see the bridge, which was 50 feet upstream, until the middle of the creek!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv-i8BQFby6lWM24ubFKpNsbp4CaQLRQRFGNNjhrzabrFPV4ewtH5amYuiLRDQhyQqfFYMEjl8XLF7k7fEMVP8GsA5R5caUmlFhDDQ9TigQRcfGp-IL1qaShbmjNhAFGx60h_biWD7vSA/s1600/Scotland+1+109.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv-i8BQFby6lWM24ubFKpNsbp4CaQLRQRFGNNjhrzabrFPV4ewtH5amYuiLRDQhyQqfFYMEjl8XLF7k7fEMVP8GsA5R5caUmlFhDDQ9TigQRcfGp-IL1qaShbmjNhAFGx60h_biWD7vSA/s320/Scotland+1+109.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Up and up we went finally attaining the top and a well needed rest but shortly we set off again. It was time for a long downhill treat winding in a small valley which had several houses and lodges. One of the lodges was for red deer hunting and the keeper was kind enough to let us refill our water. We followed a track up through the valley crossing bridges and commencing another very long climb with gradients that reached 20%. A few short breaks and laughs later we bridged the top and once again a long winding descent awaited us.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJRVJ6tOg0nLmOz5O2kTNkwab2tGLi9DJk6VVafB_JygIB8HGRthcH7B1jxMo2soGCTopqr5UkeejbqFgNQ3G1U5jMYt7HQ3xTn-GW4FIwAfjI51P-A8WXn3OBqa46wT4nu81cXrcDxlM/s1600/Scotland+1+115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJRVJ6tOg0nLmOz5O2kTNkwab2tGLi9DJk6VVafB_JygIB8HGRthcH7B1jxMo2soGCTopqr5UkeejbqFgNQ3G1U5jMYt7HQ3xTn-GW4FIwAfjI51P-A8WXn3OBqa46wT4nu81cXrcDxlM/s320/Scotland+1+115.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>We descended to Loch Garry where, at the far end, our destination of Invergarry lay and 20 plus miles lay between us and the warmth of the Invergarry Hostel. Rain clouds hanging low and heavy, rain coming in grey sheets and the now inevitable rain gear came out. In pouring rain we put ourselves into pedaling home, at times stopping to pass around more gear or slowing to regroup. <br />
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The rain went on and finally Lowell said that if the support vehicle came by he would take a ride. Cars were passing and I was waving them by when one just hung behind. I waved it on again and behold! it was the support vehicle which continued to the dismay of Lowell on it's journey. But James the driver, being smarter than the rest of us, pulled over in the next convenient turn out and waited. Oh so glad in the wet and cold to see James, he informed us that we were only a mere 2-3 kilometers away and so with his encouragement we continued on to our goal. The final tally..is an estimate, since we traveled approximately 30K after Lowell's Garmin died. But we seem to agree..100 kilometers, more that 6000 feet of climbing and more than one person said this was their biggest day ever. <br />
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Pam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5237433297372195430.post-78140708696737698972011-08-07T12:32:00.000-07:002011-08-22T00:48:15.288-07:00Scotland Coast to Coast, The Beginning<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div> As blogging is always best done on beer in a pub, we are starting the Scotland C2C blog section in the Grog & Gruel in Fort William.<br />
Arriving in Edinburgh, we were met by Pete and James of Trailbrakes and were especially happy to see all of our gear arrive and bicycles intact. Thanks Lufthansa! Unfortunately this was not the case with others of our group that arrived via British Airways, gear together but bicycles damaged. BA also states that bicycles are free but they charged 60 US dollars, only one bag is allowed and the bicycles counted for that. <br />
After putting bikes together and loading things up we were off to the start of the trip on the Isle of Skye. On this trip we have decided to hook up with Trailbrakes who provide a variety of services for bicyclists from baggage transfer on each leg of your trip and up to any combination of services and assist a traveling cyclist may desire. We went for the fully guided trip which includes baggage transfer, support vehicle and accommodations of which we chose the bunkhouse/hostel group.<br />
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Bicycles repaired and gear stowed away at the Sligachan Bunkhouse we headed over to the Sligachan pub for dinner and a pint. Originally planning to stay in Portree, the highland games were on and accommodations fully booked. The Sligachan bunkhouse was nice with great views but very basic and a bit drafty, there is a pub, hotel and restaurant across the bridge. However it was quiet which is a bonus and appears to be frequented by climbers. It is out of town, about 10 miles, and can be reached by bus but there are no other services available so for the independent cyclist the towns of Broadford or Portree would be possibly be a better choice. On the plus it is at the beginning of 10 miles of technical single track which is part of our version of the C2C. <br />
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We headed out the next morning to the ceremonial tire dip in the Atlantic Ocean and officially begin the trip. Continuing on we road a combination of double track connected by road to single track. The single track is a technical riders dream but was accomplished by even the least experienced in the group, everyone have at least an occasional bike hike over an unaccommodating obstacle. Those were usually created by a combination of deep loose scree and steepness. <br />
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Scot, the best of the riders (with the exception of our guide Pete) couldn't keep from exclaiming over and over again how much he loved this single track as he grinned from ear to ear. The single track had everything the technical rider could love from lifts to babyheads to flowy sections. Slabby sections like Moab flowed into sweet rolling hills and open meadows as we moved farther down through the valley and its lochs connected like a string of jewels sparkling in the sun. <br />
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The trail meandered through the rolling Scottish hillsides, passing through grand patches of blooming heather in a variety of purples, across small, easily negotiable streams and along the lochs. Butterflies and bees were in abundant attendance with nary a midge in sight. With blue skies and sunshine overhead, sunscreen was the one item we forgot to pack. The single track meandered along the side of the a valley eventually climbing up and over and delivering us to a small cobblestone lined bay where we basked and baked in the sunshine and had lunch.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwfEM4lDR0MbnDvLfrOOvDzJF7vKZHUkodaz4vo7K-ziJs2OYejhkfKYkniVpWQkOxdmEvpUyCiCCcpJrFzf8x5ETXMwjCCGCvyB9Wv6D-L4OIWC8OhVHx34MdFGNe4Ro2tfxOpzhTEVc/s1600/Scotland+1+076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwfEM4lDR0MbnDvLfrOOvDzJF7vKZHUkodaz4vo7K-ziJs2OYejhkfKYkniVpWQkOxdmEvpUyCiCCcpJrFzf8x5ETXMwjCCGCvyB9Wv6D-L4OIWC8OhVHx34MdFGNe4Ro2tfxOpzhTEVc/s320/Scotland+1+076.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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After a long climb on scree laden double track we ascended to the grand view of the island of Rhum, Eigg and Muck, descending down to a quick double track of cobblestone road built by William Wallace's troups and finally onto the final road that once again brought us seaside into Broadtree to the Broadtree Hostel.<br />
Although the rooms were tight, the Broadtree Hostel is large, centrally located, within easy walking distance of stores and pubs, has a good view both from the outside and from several community rooms inside. An excellent drying room and a locked bicycle room rounded out the establishment. It should be noted that if you are a couple traveling together, the rooms are separated into men's and women's, no mix. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSMTbcuWel83BKREbV3oqx1WA5TiEyacD7UHZetjjMurIOyZKL4ok2KPs9MxQWE40ZcFOSDU9gwceFA8R4wE7nVA-tKoN6E5txAr9Vcsh3HBfIi9Ury2aNu0MpQtfejgVjo8eNaaoL-dc/s1600/Scotland+1+083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSMTbcuWel83BKREbV3oqx1WA5TiEyacD7UHZetjjMurIOyZKL4ok2KPs9MxQWE40ZcFOSDU9gwceFA8R4wE7nVA-tKoN6E5txAr9Vcsh3HBfIi9Ury2aNu0MpQtfejgVjo8eNaaoL-dc/s320/Scotland+1+083.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> <br />
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With the long daylight hours Scotland in August we had to keep in the time as it always seems so early<br />
in the evening and we have to make sure to do any store runs before they close and the pubs stop serving food at 9 p.m. and after a pub style meal we called an end to a fabulous first day of riding. 57.37 Kilometers 2710 feet of climbing<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZNc4kBewkT9STFgvkQxuB3wphwOmh7HQvFj8Sb4LeGhk02FG7FEUMHAqZyjjWMz8GV9UH4aF2a7b1aA6BBI0oQrAlz0nqFBrNE7IyDnyvzMJ2r9hRqy8aWr0_PTPLGbjXBC51pcsc-JY/s1600/Scotland+1+055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZNc4kBewkT9STFgvkQxuB3wphwOmh7HQvFj8Sb4LeGhk02FG7FEUMHAqZyjjWMz8GV9UH4aF2a7b1aA6BBI0oQrAlz0nqFBrNE7IyDnyvzMJ2r9hRqy8aWr0_PTPLGbjXBC51pcsc-JY/s320/Scotland+1+055.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Pam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5237433297372195430.post-53970892272571245002010-10-12T21:43:00.000-07:002010-10-12T21:24:03.627-07:00The End of the Road<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div> Our last night on the road was spent enjoying Super Bock and talking with Rolf. Leaving the campground near Vila de Conde we headed towards Porto stopping at a Pastelleria for breakfast. Heading down the N13 the road became more and more congested and the rain began. Even though there were, for the most part, good shoulders on the road we chose to get away from the trucks, heavy traffic and on ramps and took to the streets.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUbCygzrVnDcNoQ72SNuCX9NHk0h6ofKTmXKL77pjtQfCbgWZz8f84mxJpGyZVg2eotvJQrssQ3lm0LF8EnwYeJMpd4H7TevUe8AdAEatGxii_0XLlEFG7X1jU-tGfMeQZ7qPdJyD7kzQ/s1600/Portugal+822.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUbCygzrVnDcNoQ72SNuCX9NHk0h6ofKTmXKL77pjtQfCbgWZz8f84mxJpGyZVg2eotvJQrssQ3lm0LF8EnwYeJMpd4H7TevUe8AdAEatGxii_0XLlEFG7X1jU-tGfMeQZ7qPdJyD7kzQ/s320/Portugal+822.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>It was a good choice as it placed us, lost, in front of a beautiful azulejo covered church but more importantly in front of a small fruit and vegetable market. After posing our bicycles in our quest for an Adventure Cycling photo of the week we headed over to the market where the vendor provided us with much needed directions.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Church with azulejo tiles</td></tr>
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With our continuing good luck we were only one street off of the one that would take us directly back "home" to Residencial Grande Rio. The rain was coming down we set to the task of dismantling our bicycles and Tony from the Residencial arranged a place of us in a large storage room in the back that was warm and dry with heaps of room to accomplish our task and helped us arrange our airport transportation (even cheaper that our incoming transport!)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our private bicycle entrance at the Residencial Grande Rio</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ40dkQOaPvvbVSeVnRcaxK9pD2KtycAnVcI9oopzmVC6wzmg1AA78D8s8-cQXnoAoF5xYBNjXKjlLzhq0rkoDmX5sHaax-x_H3-yRPbSSWBDLKRD45qhby2h8iAP_MJsKc27D5B-sL7E/s1600/Portugal+830.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div> In the wee hours of the early morning, Arthur, the owner of this fabulous bicycle friendly establishment bid us goodbye, offering to put together a breakfast to go and we loaded up and headed off to the airport.<br />
Now traveling to an airport isn't really that exciting but the way into the Porto airport in the dark was awesome. As you traveled along the road would light up and guide you in. Eventually where the road split to arrivals and departures it lit up in different colors to direct you to the right area.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg8TpbbNdOoqDFafmsX2m8Ja4PbEJvemM7iG84HRTtI0t2iS8BJ_jmE4ua0yXJssPQTApAYUBL5s1vgVmuMGLT5xqfsMnr3t9UKyKg5HYjif19rWG5heayoYd-ot8FvsnJGK3kiqESCzI/s1600/Portugal+841.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg8TpbbNdOoqDFafmsX2m8Ja4PbEJvemM7iG84HRTtI0t2iS8BJ_jmE4ua0yXJssPQTApAYUBL5s1vgVmuMGLT5xqfsMnr3t9UKyKg5HYjif19rWG5heayoYd-ot8FvsnJGK3kiqESCzI/s320/Portugal+841.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
In true traveling fashion we finished our trip being lost in the airport, pushing our bicycle filled trolleys back and forth from one end to another until we found the correct counter and then sat down for a last indulgence and final goodbye to the Pastellerias of Portugal.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBJrMfEDSkUC6jI_zNCImyyFKR9EbSXkmcaMUxrT7lauzRlZxhQSj91HNuO8wd7jA3fZ9zCtnAa7AfXUBatmwJLOD1wve7lHAuKrvK5trJkotuVFGgAt-qxzSNBW4Z443y-cG3uE8PRJs/s1600/Portugal+797.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBJrMfEDSkUC6jI_zNCImyyFKR9EbSXkmcaMUxrT7lauzRlZxhQSj91HNuO8wd7jA3fZ9zCtnAa7AfXUBatmwJLOD1wve7lHAuKrvK5trJkotuVFGgAt-qxzSNBW4Z443y-cG3uE8PRJs/s320/Portugal+797.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Pam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5237433297372195430.post-61633609192105076422010-10-12T20:59:00.000-07:002010-10-12T21:25:37.051-07:00The Map of Pedro Rocha From Guimaraes we made it to the coast in a few hours setting up camp in a private campground near Conde de Vila. Clube Nacional de Montanhismo had everything a traveling cyclist could desire from hot showers to Super Bock to free internet.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cyclist's campground.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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Shortly after we arrived we were joined by another traveling cyclist, Rolf. Rolf started in Germany and have traveled through France and Spain and was now entering Portugal with a final destination of Morocco before returning to Germany. While we were holed up in Guimaraes Rolf had been caught out in the big storm and was still in the process of drying out. <br />
As all cyclists and maybe especially touring cyclists, we like to compare and talk about our equipment. Some of the items that we liked of Rolf's were the Ortlieb add-ons. Small add on bags that connect to the ends of your panniers. These small mini pannier's were the perfect size to stash your rain jacket or pants and even have a locking mechanism and gave you quick access.<br />
Rolf also took a dry box with a clear lid, applied attachments and created a handlebar box with a clear flip-up lid for maps. But we had something that Rolf really liked and really needed. The Map of Pedro Rocha.<br />
You might remember that we had met Pedro and his family while we were having lunch in Furodouro at the beginning of our trip. Pedro had not only been kind enough to sort out a problem with our lunch order but had brought in several maps for us to look at. One of which had excellent details of small roads and the larger cities of Portugal and Pedro gave it to us as a gift.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjyIHwz3tGrDgSGfcoT_kazK0aKIicTQj3v8TrJYYO2dsAreGf4FfYYBo809ZyoP2kGYDeEdBOeu70L6v3t7T9X1l-iPpovRos-n8ZlOl4PjhtptBQpMNZHbBz7p8pUWP-KVkrUtJAqu4/s320/Portugal+076.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pedro Rocha and Family</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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Pedro's map had become the favorite piece of equipment for our trip and we were quite attached to it. It had guided us on our entire trip through Portugal and had taken us to the most magical places on our trips and past the most beautiful sites and places of Portugal.<br />
In fact our favorite photo and one of the most beautiful wild places in Portugal, Cabo Montego and it's hidden coast, would have been missed without The Map of Pedro Rocha.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEUFDZKceJmuPrSKRRcqnRcQV4ZOAhtQfnEDhO-fKny7VR0hB55YA-lTH62qdjiGGLb06pFztfBJLoHCDK5ro5KgRRtFMzXPBzo_TliKwhsxDVOwq5CutngrRacKGH8_uwSOOrVGweG_8/s1600/Portugal+111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEUFDZKceJmuPrSKRRcqnRcQV4ZOAhtQfnEDhO-fKny7VR0hB55YA-lTH62qdjiGGLb06pFztfBJLoHCDK5ro5KgRRtFMzXPBzo_TliKwhsxDVOwq5CutngrRacKGH8_uwSOOrVGweG_8/s320/Portugal+111.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> And now it was time to pass it on. And so our greatest possession in Portugal was given to a delighted Rolf who was charged with a mission. As Rolf traveled on his trip he was to pass "The Map of Pedro Rocha" on to the next cyclist coming through Portugal to guide them and to tell the map's new owner that they were to do the same when they were finished. Our only regret was that we didn't write an email address on the map so we could track the Map's journeys with future cyclists. Again, our thanks to Pedro and his family, for the kindness and generosity that changed our trip to Portugal. And best of luck to our Map and it's future travels!Pam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5237433297372195430.post-43200319910365214842010-10-12T20:51:00.000-07:002010-10-12T20:51:52.556-07:00And Then the Storm Came Arriving in Guimaraes we ended up passing the Tourismo on our way to the campground. Another LM! The Municipal Campground, located 7K up a steep hill called the Penha, had closed for the season. We thanked our good fortune and were provided with a list of accomodations from the Tourismo.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWt7fPwU2vSs1MHeYYsOB1liZgYsfIkYh4qlQjXZ03fQLY2j4Lx4ICcfsKbU0d7RFLE3YWjSqcYRKXLzWmwkKqYZp8aChlVY5AE93cBXyfKfofnMwLzDO8Okx0fRhRAIA5ccQjCm7hVv8/s1600/Portugal+772.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWt7fPwU2vSs1MHeYYsOB1liZgYsfIkYh4qlQjXZ03fQLY2j4Lx4ICcfsKbU0d7RFLE3YWjSqcYRKXLzWmwkKqYZp8aChlVY5AE93cBXyfKfofnMwLzDO8Okx0fRhRAIA5ccQjCm7hVv8/s320/Portugal+772.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The list contained a range of accommodations and their prices with a map to find them and we set off to find one based on area and price. The first one that we came to was the Residencial D'Avis Mestre, spanking clean with a red carpet out front. It looked too nice for traveling cyclists.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsxV18Fk4DUEPxhHlUV1Lwk5hj35J_ZRevBSWr2v7Qs9_Ck8FxmQhfR4ecIQfzxiIy03cfIgqCseEkR2No00apx0Vi9CmNIAtNfH3on-IP6BfqhJX4vI67-rekP1fgtHvNPC0ZT39hl7E/s320/Portugal+800.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Residencial D'Avis Mestre</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsxV18Fk4DUEPxhHlUV1Lwk5hj35J_ZRevBSWr2v7Qs9_Ck8FxmQhfR4ecIQfzxiIy03cfIgqCseEkR2No00apx0Vi9CmNIAtNfH3on-IP6BfqhJX4vI67-rekP1fgtHvNPC0ZT39hl7E/s1600/Portugal+800.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><br />
But Lowell said to go in anyway just to get a feel for things and next thing you know we had a key in hand. They offered us a 10 Euros less to exclude breakfast and since we didn't spend that much money on breakfast anyway it was a winning situation, a great price in a beautiful residencial. Our bikes were stored in a room at the back and we were off to a fabulous room with double french doors and balconies, giant pillows, internet and TV and the weather report.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQBFY6-6TDwBojT2_x-hKd55ui2Y079vcCW1159xvRB9bvo-pB4BVT8eVdIPMPJkodTynwzD0I77acmTiX0DBBgLTC-awdNvoQdFnDVaJYyGwzgwUtJp2iPT_CUMPe46Q7SakiopkRj0w/s1600/Portugal+691.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQBFY6-6TDwBojT2_x-hKd55ui2Y079vcCW1159xvRB9bvo-pB4BVT8eVdIPMPJkodTynwzD0I77acmTiX0DBBgLTC-awdNvoQdFnDVaJYyGwzgwUtJp2iPT_CUMPe46Q7SakiopkRj0w/s320/Portugal+691.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div> "How many nights?" asked the receptionist Alexandra and we answered probably just one, but we shall see. However the weather report boded quite ill and one night turned into three. Laughing and giggling the next day as rain poured down our french doors and winds howled around the tiled roof, we chanted "what a great day for a ride!"<br />
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How lucky we were that the campground was closed! Trees and power lines were down and the narrow streets were littered with the glass of broken windows and shattered plant pots. Broken umbrellas were scattered here and there. <br />
The rain gave us time to relax and wander in and out of all the Pastellerias, visit the castle birthplace of Portugal and get lost and refound in the narrow streets of Guimaraes. Lowell indulged in a trim from a barber and we even found (and delighted in!) a vegetarian restaurant, Cor de Tangerine, across from the castle.<br />
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In our wanderings we passed what appeared to be a bicycle shop but stepping inside we found a Mountain Biking Club. What a great experience to meet and talk with passionate cyclists who invited us on their upcoming rides and offered to personally tour us around their local mountain bike trails. Unfortunately for us we only had our touring bikes and we were sad to miss the opportunity to ride with such welcoming cyclists. They even gave us a gift of the club's Portuguese flag signed by all of their football players which is now proudly displayed in our home bicycle shop! Photos taken and addresses exchanged, we hope to welcome them someday to mountain biking in California!<br />
But the next day dawned clear and with disappointment to leave Guimaraes we loaded up our bicycles. We have to give huge thanks to our fabulous receptionist Alexandra who made phone calls adjusting our reservations in Porto, arranged safe storage for our bicycles, made us cafe leites and spoiled us. We highly recommend Residencial D'Avis Mestre for traveling cyclists. Bidding Alexandra our goodbyes we headed out towards the coast for the last days of our trip.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alexandra, Receptionista Extraordinaire</td></tr>
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Pam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5237433297372195430.post-22235567953270281482010-10-05T15:52:00.000-07:002010-10-05T16:06:51.894-07:00Photos of Portugal One<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeIXVbSVV2RGYtmhGkWm0NG-PV7bPb6QdNeAqVJJnV5r0g51AEqnB2ngjltdP5Y_24AL4a2NAAseTDfSBvf0pzIxbYFCn_1uh8mXjOc-3Y1aQB_GETEYIxfYBEFbSJDdxbi-5sed_C8TI/s200/Portugal+I+346.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Catacombs in Coimbra</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gargoyle</td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit8qH_vJeCz7J4PJK53kfY3Ra1OkZHIMvSzjtTqAXF2MytI0tjmpigLpFXgJkc3WfowoYV_Qtj1TorVTzqZD6oXOqNPeNj6IyTRDe4PZfj0UDZwsqlRw4zn0xfQ3_tQY8vsYFptkNOaVY/s1600/Portugal+I+330.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Manuline on Famous West Window of Knights Templar</td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiL3Qfl3E9hTsBILScB-POfDcgS2NnZ2H9wdrNxhNHuVlWz2nusunQwwA2wHWkmhUlYvxwEqGO1M6M31e4z6KHp1LaHTHYC9AwL82yCkTijvgpPWUQy7ddootdqFqN7pcUBT6YNZH3s4Q/s1600/Portugal+I+324.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">4 different designs</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFtDEBFZJVgtoyv_iE3vgnkm2-h_rc6gSGU1NHextLEgG2yOtWVl0Np6xJUsmnh6DdbNUL8Y9FuDSaR22yCyqNfTnUgMXnxNJk9k16hGuBYHCAwBKXy8jsQ_l2CYUacrat32MyQJUoDgI/s200/Portugal+I+267.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Entry to the Knights Templar' Monastery</td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFtDEBFZJVgtoyv_iE3vgnkm2-h_rc6gSGU1NHextLEgG2yOtWVl0Np6xJUsmnh6DdbNUL8Y9FuDSaR22yCyqNfTnUgMXnxNJk9k16hGuBYHCAwBKXy8jsQ_l2CYUacrat32MyQJUoDgI/s1600/Portugal+I+267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3FI-Ib8UA2zejCNIlnD7ZpCt5zDN-2yrM6YeHXy3nhhewyveEjS6l3rUu8E-wBvq5_HeO5fbUWBrpsKzAqlhESAxUMw4udLDOWTKArUfbZ7avf4HML_HSJokYrwYU4Zs9xCrCJe9oCMk/s1600/Portugal+I+251.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No Cows on Highway!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx0vMR5gZyMzbdDs2V0i1dMFO4IVmD1zBxyojGZ1aITMdiuH_-CT4T3b40HcNzIB3c3PIp3-MjxOZ_xbBRuVa6Gm80rhZoSMZ1wvzjVZKGeOps1i8EpyRJX33EAM_NYy4tg9FHhsemiC4/s200/Portugal+I+188.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="150" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old meets New</td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx0vMR5gZyMzbdDs2V0i1dMFO4IVmD1zBxyojGZ1aITMdiuH_-CT4T3b40HcNzIB3c3PIp3-MjxOZ_xbBRuVa6Gm80rhZoSMZ1wvzjVZKGeOps1i8EpyRJX33EAM_NYy4tg9FHhsemiC4/s1600/Portugal+I+188.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Arches </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Costa Nova</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnRqqJWl1HiIWaDMeTNOhl3jzpX0-72Oao9fVGoMvVX8yMccH_FE21kNImVkZ_3B_aMe3Ge6c8sVnsfvWbYf885gF8FpadkihizvJSaFPPT4wG_BXl5YAYvBQIx8rtxoRHxxSQeocS04g/s1600/Portugal+I+093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL5r_VdcSg2QtteIxDMSL9Caehb1rycMSy6oNbwKNh5GsVaTPxDUiP3dZLvS_KffJrxU3UE_BBdz9HxBkcXhQyv93oU8l925-gNNbcLcu9Es8ZqdyK_s0f6qe0qHnT2V6pbAh_1gxPevw/s1600/Portugal+I+080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL5r_VdcSg2QtteIxDMSL9Caehb1rycMSy6oNbwKNh5GsVaTPxDUiP3dZLvS_KffJrxU3UE_BBdz9HxBkcXhQyv93oU8l925-gNNbcLcu9Es8ZqdyK_s0f6qe0qHnT2V6pbAh_1gxPevw/s200/Portugal+I+080.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vila Nova da Gaia across from Porto</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBy3rpZpQO5Cu62HLMQEXxnKdUXhZUu0OgSEAMqHQ9WuZG29yHNhgGPZl8MJoRdWs8Bq0gqfgHXAkbDXGiojGuo8Lcx8T-TMxLY0tIQsOlG1HJeXtxKBl7fZhJY3fZ7iFBKOSBtBGB-Pw/s200/Portugal+I+045.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the Catacombs of Porto</td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBy3rpZpQO5Cu62HLMQEXxnKdUXhZUu0OgSEAMqHQ9WuZG29yHNhgGPZl8MJoRdWs8Bq0gqfgHXAkbDXGiojGuo8Lcx8T-TMxLY0tIQsOlG1HJeXtxKBl7fZhJY3fZ7iFBKOSBtBGB-Pw/s1600/Portugal+I+045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAJBxMuDCTmPSRHE_3BwlQjnnjnfV9P-z_41WEYAj6l_DIDYfrwbGZCYhuYyxFat_GHFdmEV0fZNrmW8PbrHVE9KRcYfle3HAFq5eEUGYJgB_CxG55CJl1sJVOa30NttA8vkzQmJuCE34/s200/Portugal+I+030.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Porto Fruit Market</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAJBxMuDCTmPSRHE_3BwlQjnnjnfV9P-z_41WEYAj6l_DIDYfrwbGZCYhuYyxFat_GHFdmEV0fZNrmW8PbrHVE9KRcYfle3HAFq5eEUGYJgB_CxG55CJl1sJVOa30NttA8vkzQmJuCE34/s1600/Portugal+I+030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYgEdpWBQMGGdi0EHPp4Wp_EKzqo4knyUbmhKZ_l6BWhwDX9oMg_LuA_8NT6WSmX4DFjCHEM9ZrHNNDBYlB2eZoNngwIz3OBw6OP0FTekitYtXbTl907EaXY4LbF0SwjFTXdwaSM7bYIU/s200/Portugal+I+016.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In a Porto Cemetery </td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYgEdpWBQMGGdi0EHPp4Wp_EKzqo4knyUbmhKZ_l6BWhwDX9oMg_LuA_8NT6WSmX4DFjCHEM9ZrHNNDBYlB2eZoNngwIz3OBw6OP0FTekitYtXbTl907EaXY4LbF0SwjFTXdwaSM7bYIU/s1600/Portugal+I+016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>Pam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5237433297372195430.post-38137625414086413212010-10-04T10:57:00.000-07:002010-10-04T10:57:49.957-07:00Bits and Pieces of Portugal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHK4l7tM4WBPKq8zYZROIk2tUUU1jYvymU6p2pbE9VvBqCHTfxaDlefzZCbKF0Ec4Zl7KEU_urIMPMdV2g613iz0TrT5fg0tuoKrQE53SCzt6NrKQNfaC9se9EdsRnbvlT0VbloSI_pRo/s1600/portugal+4+025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHK4l7tM4WBPKq8zYZROIk2tUUU1jYvymU6p2pbE9VvBqCHTfxaDlefzZCbKF0Ec4Zl7KEU_urIMPMdV2g613iz0TrT5fg0tuoKrQE53SCzt6NrKQNfaC9se9EdsRnbvlT0VbloSI_pRo/s200/portugal+4+025.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwb4XlCjgCU_LUOuOUoRUvhKF_-HfbTULXnI8dewrzuYTfNuxICpyGPtPsvRL-OvJSTijTGL-0pLuHpolmA49ZAhIplE9b_WQOEYD0oDvUhVtzksV0DFx83ptl1O0Y0atWRLANUkdbmus/s1600/portugal+4+022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwb4XlCjgCU_LUOuOUoRUvhKF_-HfbTULXnI8dewrzuYTfNuxICpyGPtPsvRL-OvJSTijTGL-0pLuHpolmA49ZAhIplE9b_WQOEYD0oDvUhVtzksV0DFx83ptl1O0Y0atWRLANUkdbmus/s200/portugal+4+022.JPG" width="200" /></a></div> The Pastelleria, the heart and soul of Portugal. Stop in before work for a quick espresso and a sande misto, a toasted ham and cheese sandwhich. Add a couple of small delicate pastries and you're off. Come for lunch and get a pork loin sandwhich or a roasted half chicken. That will also work for dinner. Add in more pastries, football, draft beer, vinho verde on tap and it's a complete food and social life extravaganza. <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkOsx_XdnrauVzfFb0f6GTWW6F8xnk7GBAYAEGMT6UZXqvD50J9jUUH_RByURr9CuSRAe7rQfQ_L5uoUPEFipXmkVV0iAm2kzhjEXMDMhszlOgCjEH8zIz1Qu-cCD4djQH56u7UK54OJw/s1600/portugal+4+016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkOsx_XdnrauVzfFb0f6GTWW6F8xnk7GBAYAEGMT6UZXqvD50J9jUUH_RByURr9CuSRAe7rQfQ_L5uoUPEFipXmkVV0iAm2kzhjEXMDMhszlOgCjEH8zIz1Qu-cCD4djQH56u7UK54OJw/s320/portugal+4+016.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> Everywhere you go there is an unofficial national symbol plastered on every conceivable item you could purchase. Plates, postcards, aprons, posters, weather vanes, notebooks, hairbrushes. It’s related to a story about a man wrongly accused and convicted of a crime. While standing to be sentenced before the Duke , who was eating chicken, he stated that if he was innocent the chicken would stand up and crow which of course it did. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"> The roofs of buildings for the most part are tile and at each point on the roof is a small stupa or pergola. Occasionally they are decorated with by cats with an arched back and upright tail.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> The campgrounds are frequent on the coast and directed to the service of motor homes. Small campgrounds house 500+ people while large campgrounds 2-3,000. The tent areas in most cases are just a small area to squeeze into that was probably unsuitable for a motor home, although we did find wonderful exceptions to this .</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Most campgrounds come with internet/wifi, swimming pools, game rooms, bars, restaurants, laundry. The showers are push buttons which give short bursts of water then shut off to save water. It’s a great idea. On the other hand the campgrounds are lit up like a football field 24/7. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> We also like the light system in the hotels. Your key is attached to a flat plastic piece that slides into the wall by the door which activates the electricity for the room. And it’s a handy key holder so you don’t lose it! When you leave the room you cannot leave any lights or electricity running. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Electricity is addressed different here and money is not wasted on huge rows of open refrigeration, even at the big stores. A few beers, wine, sodas and juices are refrigerated for immediate consumption otherwise everything is warm. Cold items also cost more. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> There is no soap or toilet paper in bathrooms. Pretty much any bathroom, anywhere. You bring your own. Exceptions are occasional restaurants and residencials, hotels. Always bring your own.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHnUheJOaOAjXA3L2r9OKSEif1kS5deK4cqdkxovVaUtKfSGGLN1mNkHmicsdkHKWvMQr1VbbyjNLwICnvu7w6q9t7M-on14ygu3tZf_1EWv5F9Nuvm2arKvIqYkG08Rkx7XzmyVdwtzo/s1600/portugal+4+019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHnUheJOaOAjXA3L2r9OKSEif1kS5deK4cqdkxovVaUtKfSGGLN1mNkHmicsdkHKWvMQr1VbbyjNLwICnvu7w6q9t7M-on14ygu3tZf_1EWv5F9Nuvm2arKvIqYkG08Rkx7XzmyVdwtzo/s200/portugal+4+019.JPG" width="200" /></a></div> Somehow, maybe during the Salazar regime, a disintegration of homes and buildings occurred. In some areas we saw as much as 50% of the homes unoccupied, walls crumbling, no windows, roofs caved in. Even in the major cities there is an overall rundown feeling and disintegration. The buildings are beautiful and intricate and it is nice to see a process of restoration occurring. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Distances.. it’s always 20 kilometers or 1.5 kilometers. If we ride the 20k and ask again how much further, it will be 20k and the same for the 1.5k. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Men wear sparkle-y clothes. Glitter, rhinestones, silver lame’. Little old men all wear caps, older people wear dark clothes, the women in all black. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqDMwlBOj0EgdQl3e1ptLDumLAiMkrttRSFskhto4oY-ZJZgpWUOJ8UU0G5c0f33X4aQqiKOVAozQjsO5DwGkI6c4QkLWVJjk8uYj_YIa88cFMnYcP8yoZ3VfSQgTMLtXTzDlEj7EAkgU/s320/portugal+4+006.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A selection of bread in a pastelleria</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Che’ is plastered around. We see him in pretty much every country we go. Graffiti is found along the railroad tracks in extensive and intricate murals. Posters advertise bullfights and concerts. The big news being U2 playing in Coimbra. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs0Khf139cCIdtNTe6J3nrJ7IRTJ-hRLK-mchBngwtxvfZlzA_zl69WNbHZMi_rZtwbfCDg6bzNYnKtIfRUaOuuav-eZsDqayu8kQZliCBHUhJ5AjzzvGcs1-h6yDfqL_SfjnLOSkrxUw/s320/portugal+4+002.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cups of Vinho Doce </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs0Khf139cCIdtNTe6J3nrJ7IRTJ-hRLK-mchBngwtxvfZlzA_zl69WNbHZMi_rZtwbfCDg6bzNYnKtIfRUaOuuav-eZsDqayu8kQZliCBHUhJ5AjzzvGcs1-h6yDfqL_SfjnLOSkrxUw/s1600/portugal+4+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div> The Minho area is famous for vinho verde, or green wine. Some of it does look a little green. It is a young wine, tart and is slightly carbonated. It sparkles on your tongue like little exploding stars. It’s cheap and very good. It also comes in a Tinto, or red, which has no bubbles. Then there is the vinho doce, which is the pre-wine juice. Stomped traditionally by feet, it is then placed away chilled. It is deep, rich and fabulous and is served in fat, handle less earthenware cups. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Crosswalks. We love them. Cars <u>always</u> stop. Even if they think you may be crossing when all you are doing is looking.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> There are no front wheel walkers in Portugal. Not a one. Everyone uses double canes or arm wrap around crutches. The sidewalks are small cobblestones, black and white, in patterns, are often uneven . Mobility is a risky proposition here yet you see many elders on the street going about daily purchases and business. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> The latest in fashion are Nike high-tops in super bright colors, like purple with lime green trim and sandal/boot combo. The foot of the shoe is a sandal connected to the leg of the shoe which is a boot. Men and women’s neck scarves are huge as are stiletto heel platform shoes. You will see these fashions in the US in about a year or so. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div>Pam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5237433297372195430.post-73739022025197061712010-10-02T14:02:00.000-07:002010-10-12T11:42:12.896-07:00Making it to Guimaraes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHdiwagAMTiYJZCSkmbklyDA9e9Sq8M4yd8EgOBYoq7XaXwiwezLNBR1VsvIkSFRA9FKfGqwJGri8Stij9LZKxI-gSsZ7C5Q3h3QA8nZfkDD-SS-6OztKwTdub9dVBqQu2r3grRc11t2w/s1600/portugal+3+066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHdiwagAMTiYJZCSkmbklyDA9e9Sq8M4yd8EgOBYoq7XaXwiwezLNBR1VsvIkSFRA9FKfGqwJGri8Stij9LZKxI-gSsZ7C5Q3h3QA8nZfkDD-SS-6OztKwTdub9dVBqQu2r3grRc11t2w/s320/portugal+3+066.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">We sat tonight on the edge of the windowsill looking out over the rooftops in the medieval World Heritage site of Guimaraes, a place of narrow cobblestone streets and intricate facades, counting all the ways we have been lucky in the last two days. We see castles on the hills around us and two churches, one on each corner, playing dueling church bells by hand on the 15 minute mark. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Today we watched our third wedding of the trip sitting on a praca and then ate individual pizzas the size of large dinner plates for Euro 3 with Super Bock. There are two large sets of French doors that open off our room and the Residencial D’Avis Mestre has room for our bicycles!</div><div class="MsoNormal"> All of this is the result of a lucky moment (LM!) that almost got us arrested. We had come to realize that with our time frame and the desire to stop and see all the sights that we were not going to stick with the original travel plan. We had done an average of 50 miles a day until deciding that it we would enjoy our ride more if we got to actually visit a point of interest instead of going by . </div><div class="MsoNormal"> This in turn changed our loop into along wandering one way trip and we needed to find a return path. Bicycles however, are not allowed on buses and we had heard not on trains unless “bagged” which came with a wink and a nod. We stopped into multiple turismos and inquired on this point and even called the major train terminal via a tourism official to check that bicycles were allowed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixjFW44p9qiJju7tLuwOGJsPwmaIa1aoqtlwHjp4zRL-t50amfEgQ2E2VTJZSWq7DOrl8qZZQJ-_2uP6SW6ab7YXoeWoIpPz6AFrcq1IeFN0LJiNWUsU7omBEr77i84sZrxs_QcNv0Oa0/s1600/portugal+3+012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixjFW44p9qiJju7tLuwOGJsPwmaIa1aoqtlwHjp4zRL-t50amfEgQ2E2VTJZSWq7DOrl8qZZQJ-_2uP6SW6ab7YXoeWoIpPz6AFrcq1IeFN0LJiNWUsU7omBEr77i84sZrxs_QcNv0Oa0/s320/portugal+3+012.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO9bmhtf6-tckwHcVYAlbsQUxB7HiRjpe-SVpci1MFFVhpTbmUmXZwva3YakMiz32HBZRcCxqSAO8YM-wZrcGbW_TUv1shmb7hz8-uQokj2xUawFgQHsHzcyY8rKy-aQtQzO9wl9FyM04/s1600/portugal+3+009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO9bmhtf6-tckwHcVYAlbsQUxB7HiRjpe-SVpci1MFFVhpTbmUmXZwva3YakMiz32HBZRcCxqSAO8YM-wZrcGbW_TUv1shmb7hz8-uQokj2xUawFgQHsHzcyY8rKy-aQtQzO9wl9FyM04/s320/portugal+3+009.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"> We decided, wink/nod, that we would not actually bag our bikes since we didn’t have bags but did have tarps and duct tape with which we could make one if necessary. We had ridden the local train from Cascais to Lisboa on a quick 20 minute trip with loaded bikes intact sitting next to us. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> In Lisboa we loaded onto the train and unloaded our gear storing panniers in the baggage racks, our bikes tucked out of the way and strapped in. We had made it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> And then we met him.. bald and manscaped. Perfectly fitted, stiffly pressed suit and Italian watch which he tapped in an angry manner. You must leave the train. Bikes are not allowed. But I must wait for my merido (husband) I told him. Bikes are not allowed and you must leave, the train leaves at 2 and off he stalked, leaving myself and those around me agape.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> What should I do I asked my neighbors in Portuguese as they shook their heads and wagged their fingers in a physical exhibition of my dismay, all nodding and shrugging their confusion. He is an angry man said the woman across from me as we looked down rows of seats in the almost completely empty train. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Upon Lowell’s arrival back it was with disbelief that I told him what had happened and then HE appeared again, tapping Italian watch in time with what one could only think was a tapping of his foot. The train leaves at 2 and if you are not off the train now I will call the police and have you arrested. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Regardless of explaining all that had been done to check that bicycles could legally go, there was no budging our man and he pulled out his handkerchief to pick up a bicycle wheel in disdain and hand it off the train.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Now we were done for. A change of route, bad information, 600 kilometers away from our plane home and not enough time to ride it. And there-in lies the lucky moment. We learn from the ticket person that bicycles are indeed allowed but only on a regional train and so off we went with our bicycles fully loaded on 5 different trains, drinking Super Bock and eating pastries that we picked up at each train change to arrive at our destination .. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Not only did we arrive but the conductor explained a stop several stops ahead that placed us at our campsite outside of Porto instead of a long ride negotiating unknown roads at 11 pm at night. And we learned that bicycles can be taken on all regional trains but not Alfa trains and so we arrived in an hour and a half today to another World Heritage site, Guimaraes, which we couldn’t have ridden to with the time left and sit on a roof sipping vinho verdes in pepsi cups and Super Bock, looking at castles and listening to dueling church bells. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg72V9KR8rAPSoxZ8wtRZaaAERsitPrUjvWFBnWA1NiywNVwPvj0MLbpNcLciDvnX4KUO6WrtJBIj13dxWXw41o_X_oDlXI4vFzVdqCuE3R7R0JIRhK-KKIrW3aZgrpTnDcpVOPIUUPeEU/s1600/portugal+3+061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg72V9KR8rAPSoxZ8wtRZaaAERsitPrUjvWFBnWA1NiywNVwPvj0MLbpNcLciDvnX4KUO6WrtJBIj13dxWXw41o_X_oDlXI4vFzVdqCuE3R7R0JIRhK-KKIrW3aZgrpTnDcpVOPIUUPeEU/s320/portugal+3+061.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Pam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5237433297372195430.post-71572009294305723992010-10-02T13:40:00.000-07:002010-10-04T01:29:48.062-07:00Cascais Layover<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/> <w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> <w:Word11KerningPairs/> <w:CachedColBalance/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>The campground in Guincho by Cascais, as mentioned, is highly recommended, although being here is fall is probably a lot different than mid summer.<span> </span>The Pine trees are short and the tops, while not trimmed are even and the trunks are bent giving the impression of bonsai.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>Lightly sanded campsites separated by stone walls, the campground sits on a hillside sheltered from the winds directly off the Atlantic by sand dunes.<span> </span>Cats abound and are seen roaming in the dunes and between the dunes the sea can be seen.<span> </span>Each night we hop up, with a bottle of vinho verde the young green wine of Portugal, on to a cement flat roof building. Some kind of electrical building or tool shed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDOHoTU26V6a2F5PxbriUdneTd_ZIBRmbJrgOnBwq1z9ZD9w2N5WAhibSh5aqDFI31IytItv9AHOnZWTpBGQ85WlwMnd9wtuuL7ORCwYOSoL_X5WAW_6cBSx0TDzJMhCk-dZVWeeD4P1E/s1600/portugal+3+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDOHoTU26V6a2F5PxbriUdneTd_ZIBRmbJrgOnBwq1z9ZD9w2N5WAhibSh5aqDFI31IytItv9AHOnZWTpBGQ85WlwMnd9wtuuL7ORCwYOSoL_X5WAW_6cBSx0TDzJMhCk-dZVWeeD4P1E/s320/portugal+3+002.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>It makes the perfect viewing site for sunset. Each night on our trip we always try to watch the sun go down and relax and chat. This place was particularly good for the show and I really enjoyed it. So much so that I was telling Lowell how very lucky I was to be here with him and blah, blah, ect, ect and Lowell the blessed little darling started farting and giggling.<span> </span>Please see attached photo to view Lowell in the very special moment of romantic farting. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>We met at camp that night a group arriving late. Russian cyclists that spoke almost no Portuguese or English, they had rented bicycles and gear from Bike Iberia and appeared to be traveling the coast. Just viewing the equipment one would have to consider avoiding this company as a cycling tourist. Rusty chains and all gear loaded on the back, yoga mats for sleeping pads and big fat, mushy saddles, <span> </span>we felt very sorry for the stragglers arriving tired and haggard. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>The Mercado was closed and they were out of supplies.<span> </span>Our new best friend however was Marco, the bartender/ store clerk.<span> </span>Brasilian, we had struck up quite a friendship around Super Bock, vinho verde and Brasil.<span> </span>What’s a new friend for!<span> </span>We spoke with Marco regarding the Russian cycling groups dilemma. Marco went to his boss and next thing we know the store is open and 25 cyclists are purchasing supplies to their hearts delight. There was a noticeable change in their demeanor as they settled down for beer, cheese and bread!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>There is a 9K bicycle path from Guincho to Cascais and 2K from Cascais to Estoril.<span> </span>Cruising along the coast with a fabulous tailwind we pass Bocas do Inferno, the Mouths of Hell.<span> </span>They would probably be spectacular during a storm but were only just spitting as we passed.<span> </span>The town also provides free bicycles for the day! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ-kGh3zeDDPX5zOeq7sH0-A3JiOPPhOp_KGVYxtYoZ2Tnou5baxGhSVZZFwkworiupxklBzmq6drgsitT2Gf-JGX3FoZR3uix_P0KeySt83sW6lxCTugApuOjnva2sbdEt1S6fVufIvU/s1600/portugal+2+300.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ-kGh3zeDDPX5zOeq7sH0-A3JiOPPhOp_KGVYxtYoZ2Tnou5baxGhSVZZFwkworiupxklBzmq6drgsitT2Gf-JGX3FoZR3uix_P0KeySt83sW6lxCTugApuOjnva2sbdEt1S6fVufIvU/s320/portugal+2+300.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>Scattered throughout the town in the mainly tourist areas are geared bicycles with baskets that are free to use for an entire day.<span> </span>If you decide to check one out go early as this is a popular option.<span> </span>We had been running into the same German couple for several campgrounds now, the first time in Coimbra and would often stop and chat for travel updates and things to miss or not miss. They informed us of their plan to ride to Sintra and back for the day.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>Unfortunately we had to tell them that it was 50 K one way and would be kilometers on end of climbing to and from. Possible to do but would certainly make a miserable day with basic unfitted bicycles and they instead used the bus. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span><span> </span>Cascais is a resort town. Large but charming, it is fully fitted to the European tourist. With it’s attending castles and fortresses, lined with beaches, it’s streets are a parade of restaurants, pastellerias and shopping.<span> </span>It is an area to gently wile away the time. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>We had been searching the entire trip for an appropriate plug for the computer we were dragging around. After locating a Game Stop in the mall we were directed to Jumbo’s where we found the perfect solution.<span> </span>(For more info on this see the section For Cycling Tourists). </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>Riding back along the fortess and esplanade we met Harry from Pennsylvania by almost running him over in slow motion.<span> </span>The tinkling of the Crane bicycle bell may have gotten the attention of Harry’s companions but not of Harry and the result was a wonderful conversation about cycling in Pennsylvania and an invite to come ride the state. Harry should work the state’s tourism board, he’s a great seller and has convinced us to see Pennsylvania and it’s Rails to Trails system. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyx_uZaOEW6BQxdk8B3YWkOIB6VWBLJuzGZT3g53yH1yv0xREz3t41NC6YRL0TgBXqZQsTCfqqbGc_3vUbcjsYZVvkU6nSYULZUUEJVRJle9F-_uKud70zIZgTfjku3CfhOdDemMcJChE/s1600/portugal+2+288.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyx_uZaOEW6BQxdk8B3YWkOIB6VWBLJuzGZT3g53yH1yv0xREz3t41NC6YRL0TgBXqZQsTCfqqbGc_3vUbcjsYZVvkU6nSYULZUUEJVRJle9F-_uKud70zIZgTfjku3CfhOdDemMcJChE/s320/portugal+2+288.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>Loaded up with goodies from Jumbo we made our way back to camp for the now traditional farting sunset with vinho verde and another evening with Marco.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span></div>Pam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5237433297372195430.post-59959231062105234382010-10-02T13:14:00.000-07:002010-10-04T01:29:48.063-07:00Ericeira to Cascais<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNeQTjH_NBMOhfblwuLERi90puwNRvlUILMh_3HaA9gkNKO9x4vMus6mSw0IeO4E_YUzbcfuW83KPabObwr0mZyI-rqvZSoI5TJRk-u5wPCuiuoLM5N0MT27r3G_qQ0gMnp-gZIRWxaZc/s1600/portugal+2+247.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNeQTjH_NBMOhfblwuLERi90puwNRvlUILMh_3HaA9gkNKO9x4vMus6mSw0IeO4E_YUzbcfuW83KPabObwr0mZyI-rqvZSoI5TJRk-u5wPCuiuoLM5N0MT27r3G_qQ0gMnp-gZIRWxaZc/s320/portugal+2+247.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/> <w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> <w:Word11KerningPairs/> <w:CachedColBalance/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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</style> <![endif]--> <div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>We roll down the cyclepath in Sao Sebastiao to breakfast finding just seconds away from the campground on the cycling path a pastelleria for the morning session of dainty little pastries in vast array washed down with strong café leite.<span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>All of this accompanied by blue skies and bluer waters whose waves are topped by surfers. As much as we like to surf we are not tempted to rent <span> </span>boards as they are all wearing wetsuits . We are certainly<span> </span>warm water surfers.<span> </span>Since Peniche we have seen surfers at pretty much every surf break and notice license plates from all over Europe</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>Fueled by the morning café session<span> </span>we start riding in our now daily fashion, uphill. Climbing, climbing we wind in and out of cobblestone streets on gradients ever increasing on our quest to stay off the national highway. As hard as we try, after multiple miles we are spit out on the highway.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>Coming into Sintra we stop at the tourism office and check the city layout and ask about bicycles on the train.<span> </span>Handed a map of the World Heritage site spread out over 7K and insured that bicycles can go on the train “even with wheels on”, we head off to Chinese food.<span> </span>As a vegetarian Lowell has been short on solid meals in Portugal and Chinese is a welcome opportunity for him. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5rn1UkOKH7O04NRin3O231Caj-Fr1ZzXZJiIbhyphenhyphenc9khmdpIqtmep92IJ00trgQH4sjLq3RaA6Z7VmweBt8jw5w9AnCZUifqZz9dH7xJWjeAUpwfFB9KhnhyphenhyphenFmRevXTUoFg605Xowt6c8/s1600/portugal+2+272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5rn1UkOKH7O04NRin3O231Caj-Fr1ZzXZJiIbhyphenhyphenc9khmdpIqtmep92IJ00trgQH4sjLq3RaA6Z7VmweBt8jw5w9AnCZUifqZz9dH7xJWjeAUpwfFB9KhnhyphenhyphenFmRevXTUoFg605Xowt6c8/s320/portugal+2+272.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>Sintra is scattered with palaces and gardens, the 30 heactare park Monsserate <span> </span>created by an English landscape artist with help from Kew Gardens in London. It is delightful and on our wandering path through and out of Sintra Villa.<span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPrxaPQV87fYIc7SvyAxAEDM2NroGoaTrTuqbWdagn39yd9Rpgype6PIWeQ2UWYLX_THRBkrw4kEsRlr-acNhL4KUJdLW242tocGD4WgBUCMB8WbEkY0I3NItUUiIPVU3dizDrxsqf4hg/s1600/portugal+2+276.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPrxaPQV87fYIc7SvyAxAEDM2NroGoaTrTuqbWdagn39yd9Rpgype6PIWeQ2UWYLX_THRBkrw4kEsRlr-acNhL4KUJdLW242tocGD4WgBUCMB8WbEkY0I3NItUUiIPVU3dizDrxsqf4hg/s320/portugal+2+276.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>Riding on we pass villas and palaces and a riding stable. Stopping in we watched a lesson and spoke with a young lad, dressed in riding boots and jodhpurs, who gave a tour of the horses, both English and Luso, as he referred to them. It was evident that he was very passionate and knowledgeable about the horses. The stable and arena was bordered by the Monsserate garden and a palace and had a regal feeling which went well with the horses.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>Climbing, climbing we ride out of the Sintra complex we pass a rental car who calls out that it is all downhill from here and it was. Brake burning, rim heating downhill and required a stop by me to let my rims cool. We wound in and out of small villas on a shady walled road and cars honked coming around corners to let you know they were there</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>The downhill run shorted end and evolved into a 5K climb on our way to Cabo Roca, the farthest point west in Europe. <span> </span>It is a lighthouse and people arriving there can receive a certificate. We planned on finding someone to take our picture together.<span> </span>That was until we came to the road to the lighthouse. It took no convincing of each other to skip the long downhill and subsequent climb back out. We could see it just fine from where we were.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7RBUBM5cp66XH9JaMCVLodLuQOQnSa-VcLbveCIkE4BGPn_tEqj6fO6q6tlBj2SLd4K_PqqJNxLCFJgpADucJg1hauXKRjBsYhGiHG5-nJf9sQaG2GcL55E4sNmm3CJy1M6UgegxFqsQ/s1600/portugal+2+295.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7RBUBM5cp66XH9JaMCVLodLuQOQnSa-VcLbveCIkE4BGPn_tEqj6fO6q6tlBj2SLd4K_PqqJNxLCFJgpADucJg1hauXKRjBsYhGiHG5-nJf9sQaG2GcL55E4sNmm3CJy1M6UgegxFqsQ/s320/portugal+2+295.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>The final run into Guincho campground by Cascais was a delight. Endless kilometers of downhill bordering on mediterrainian blue waters bordered with sandy beaches and we finished our day with a last climb into the camp.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>We recommend heaps the camp at Guincho, complete with bar, restaurant, swimming pool and super Mercado. Settling down for a Super Bock to wash down the road even before we set up camp, we had already made up our minds to lay over for a day in Cascais. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span></div>Pam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5237433297372195430.post-74028272260365934102010-10-02T12:50:00.000-07:002010-10-04T01:29:48.064-07:00Nazare to Obidos to Peniche<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg88TCIoSdJEWDkAyaKHaDeD6qs-bAAsrwN7rEojZ9RH5eHARvD4DyxF5AVrsJoDu8mVBLIYn0oUzDsmGXSXyXqBKDBaq9tlB8-qv82Hgb4eVGSOp-3dCCvzSAxEV4MAye49FpDI-6Mmj4/s1600/portugal+2+174.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg88TCIoSdJEWDkAyaKHaDeD6qs-bAAsrwN7rEojZ9RH5eHARvD4DyxF5AVrsJoDu8mVBLIYn0oUzDsmGXSXyXqBKDBaq9tlB8-qv82Hgb4eVGSOp-3dCCvzSAxEV4MAye49FpDI-6Mmj4/s320/portugal+2+174.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> As usual we started off with a triple of coffee and a triple of pastries. The roads have change quite a bit from the north and it is rare to see a shoulder. The majority of the day is spent route finding which can often add in kilometers in return for safety and hopefully views, always with more climbing.<br />
The streets of the small villages that we travel through, usually 10 or more a day, are often tiny, and frequently very steep. Inclines of 10% or more, multiple times per day is now the norm. Often we must ride them in sections, often we are cheered by the locals.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVwQ2cf2mqIFAnQHjz1JuxMZuP_lVTJdeCYWi6Nw5IMf-bK3iT2bEb0vgJKMFlWyqaHSSdaEVJJM_nM_brB20a0oXSMnvJblrW6OIMzXzvtn_7TG4ht5vb7v2P8L_FsmQ0T7rmjg8igpE/s1600/portugal+2+190.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVwQ2cf2mqIFAnQHjz1JuxMZuP_lVTJdeCYWi6Nw5IMf-bK3iT2bEb0vgJKMFlWyqaHSSdaEVJJM_nM_brB20a0oXSMnvJblrW6OIMzXzvtn_7TG4ht5vb7v2P8L_FsmQ0T7rmjg8igpE/s320/portugal+2+190.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2us1OV5V-L6vp1YsdB39FqVQr4Tc8oX_6L9eCeLPAVyLye2-Xln9cMT7gYGmkJCxRSdmIYIVjwkK_ny8xypDYzR5Z3on-CDyTpdz_CyKYBYDt37aDxUoMLUCydBCsC4wzsQrg0xVkYUI/s1600/portugal+2+198.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2us1OV5V-L6vp1YsdB39FqVQr4Tc8oX_6L9eCeLPAVyLye2-Xln9cMT7gYGmkJCxRSdmIYIVjwkK_ny8xypDYzR5Z3on-CDyTpdz_CyKYBYDt37aDxUoMLUCydBCsC4wzsQrg0xVkYUI/s320/portugal+2+198.JPG" width="240" /></a></div> Riding from Nazare to Obidos we had to negotiate Caldas de Rainha and it is here were we met our guide for the morning, Leonel Santos Nazare. Leonel had ridden so far that morning what had taken us two days to ride. Full of energy and obviously in racing shape, Leonel, who rides with a team, would ride ahead at full speed and then drop back to chat with each one of us and repeat. Racing up hills he would loop around and ride up again. Down shaded byways of overhanging trees, no traffic in sight, we rode together. Finally at the the split to Obidos he pointed us in the right direction instructing us siga frente, always straight ahead, and off he went to his house in Alcobaca.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgys9QyeF2OfeALo9rE-af7S1BSozzbZBBPp6qp-53Z3xMYHymAiagvXX2iBRX_qjRz-ViaaEyoy_MAb3bVfXuoDcR79rfKg1bMV9RKhRGb_NMjnuaOEGcJOTJAkvvDSKSHAeU9FE8ve6M/s1600/portugal+2+205.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgys9QyeF2OfeALo9rE-af7S1BSozzbZBBPp6qp-53Z3xMYHymAiagvXX2iBRX_qjRz-ViaaEyoy_MAb3bVfXuoDcR79rfKg1bMV9RKhRGb_NMjnuaOEGcJOTJAkvvDSKSHAeU9FE8ve6M/s320/portugal+2+205.JPG" width="240" /></a></div> And so in a timely manner and full of energy ourselves we arrived in Obidos, a hilltown completely surrounded by fortress walls with no cars allowed in the tiny cobblestone streets. Whitewashed houses trimmed in blue and yellow paint, flower boxes abounding, medieval bars, a hilltops castle make it a visual treat. Obidos was a gift of the king, Dom Dinis to his wife Dona Isable in the 1200s. Apparently she liked it as much as we did. <br />
At the bottom is a Roman aqueduct and we rode our way up into the fortress for the proverbial Super Bock Break.We chatted with a man from Connecticut who said that he had been following our progress, arriving at each town before us with his car and brother, we eventually would show up in the evening.<br />
Our camp of the night was Peniche. A port town, it has a bit of an edge to it and the fortress there was used for 30 years by the Salazar regime to house political prisoners. We are always so grateful to arrive to a camp we often just plopp down in the first place we come to but on this night we decided to move on after seeing the first campground. <br />
Deep in sand, no shade, lots of wind and full of hm...shady characters it seemed, the Municipal Camp was not for us and we headed another 3.5 K further onto the point. LM! again. Our choice of Campismo got us out of the wind with super friendly staff , free internet and a great sunset view. We had a lovely evening talking about Portugal and the US with the staff. It was enlightening to say the least and the overriding thought presented was that it was important for the US to consider other cultures and countries when making their decisions as it effects everyone.<br />
The staff went off to their going away party for their colleague and we went off to bed with the dreams of the "English Breakfast" to be had a the campismo restaurant in the morning. We were evening delaying our start time to wait for the restaurant to open.<br />
We guess it had to be a heck of going away party as we saw everyone but the cook arrive as we were waiting and so eventually hit the road for the closest pastelleria / paderia. <br />
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Pam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5237433297372195430.post-63245488509917635142010-09-29T14:08:00.000-07:002010-10-02T12:33:58.880-07:00Batalha to Alcobaca to Nazare and the Portuguese People<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzvDianef_ooThzLFMlro4zZxSCdRmSo7mynfVTXyD95JYA5fDNYwU8yOYhe6hOcqgpN9AWg0x49I2wEOfOOfx4wmaIk2IdiUyZNlR29StBHUtlbfTYo4jOHCaJjFgI2PwhXZIOze378E/s1600/portugal+2+105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzvDianef_ooThzLFMlro4zZxSCdRmSo7mynfVTXyD95JYA5fDNYwU8yOYhe6hOcqgpN9AWg0x49I2wEOfOOfx4wmaIk2IdiUyZNlR29StBHUtlbfTYo4jOHCaJjFgI2PwhXZIOze378E/s320/portugal+2+105.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz4xbcM6xWSQts3k3u7fnnqXP7PUpVGLdd-pFVcqinjsV_8n8KTat4nTyOXjSoAy0yoW3O1Oh48XLN76RDVeBGobziEg3AuK_POxoijMSRGdejWtuNzkvJjue8MhisMXEFu2WTirlxQNc/s1600/portugal+2+118.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz4xbcM6xWSQts3k3u7fnnqXP7PUpVGLdd-pFVcqinjsV_8n8KTat4nTyOXjSoAy0yoW3O1Oh48XLN76RDVeBGobziEg3AuK_POxoijMSRGdejWtuNzkvJjue8MhisMXEFu2WTirlxQNc/s320/portugal+2+118.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRRPUwLkkQuNeoTw2lN_Mf5jqdYJkQUcBecXqyt0jAmeOQdQEPqtsYCJnTOkdLMOEvdJ9CweghgN3OVG57QEWJ7G26UcbsJMxBXSzchw2MrLGdTWZsHschtte_wt_BuSbNmORY2fnv3h0/s1600/portugal+2+135.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRRPUwLkkQuNeoTw2lN_Mf5jqdYJkQUcBecXqyt0jAmeOQdQEPqtsYCJnTOkdLMOEvdJ9CweghgN3OVG57QEWJ7G26UcbsJMxBXSzchw2MrLGdTWZsHschtte_wt_BuSbNmORY2fnv3h0/s320/portugal+2+135.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> Before further travels we really need to mention some Portuguese people we have met. Each day we have had the opportunity to meet and be helped by some of the friendliest people, no one asking for anything in return.<br />
We have also been the dumbest tourists ever known to wander unattended. Ìt`s a wonder... On multiple occasions we have left expensive electronic devices behind, dropped or misplaced, only to have them returned. Directions, people on bicycles riding along guiding us, invitations to home stays. We say super thanks to.. Rita, Municipal Camping Coimbra, for plain awesomeness, directions and returning electronic devices, the waitress from St Iris´s bar in Tomar who found and returned to us the next day in a pastelleria our flashcard, the waitress in Siciliano´s in Tomar that returned our entire electronics bag that had been left behind. Henri the Dutch cyclist for advice and the heaps of people from older ladies to taxi drivers that have put us back on the right path that we so frequently wander off of and Pedra Rocha for his map that helps us find our way each day.<br />
The Portugese breakfast is a feast of pastry. Each morning we are fueled by coffee in it's various forms. The Gelao, a large glass of milky coffee, cafe leite, strong and short or espresso, just a shot. Usually it's a combination of the above, accompanied by whatever delightful morsel that looks good and sits behind the glass cases in large varieties. Most times we choose several and go back to try others. Always there are regional delicacies that need our attention.<br />
We headed out of Batalha to more climbing on our way to Alcobaca. Climbing has now become a part of our everyday travel. What goes down must come up and we no longer look at downhills as free miles but as a prelude to another climbing session, often steep, sometimes reaching 10-12%.<br />
Alcobaca, built in the 1100s, is another World Heritage site. Built to honor a vow to St Bernard, this monastery is built in the Cistercian fashion and was also famous for the "perpetual gormandizing of the fat waddling monks". The door into the refectory was made narrow so that any monk who could not pass had to go on a fast. <br />
Alcobaca has an especially interesting history. Dom Pedro, the son of the king, falls in love with his wife's lady in waiting, Ines. After his wife dies, he secretly marries her as his father is afraid of Spanish influence. Unaware of the marriage, his father has her murdered and when Dom Pedro accedes to the throne he rips out and eats the hearts of her murderers, exhumes and crowns her body and makes the entire court kiss the hand of her decomposing body. <br />
Particularly austere, it is the austerity itself that makes it impressive. The tombs of Pedro and Ines are on opposite sides of the church, facing each other, so that they will each be the first thing that they see when they rise up on judgment day. <br />
Continuing on we came to the town of Nazare and the beginning of wind. Lots of wind. Unending wind. Gale force wind. One should probably think "wind" when the hillsides are covered with windmills. We cheat on the way to the camping ground Vale Paraiso (which so far is our winner of the thumbs down due to the expensive and poor working laundry). Going past the detour signs we enter onto the new and so far unused interchange that allows us, and someone on a motorcycle, to cut off multiple kilometers and a entire town. After setting up in windy city, spending €12 euros on ineffective washing and drying that still required a laundry line and left our clothes, well... dirty.. we went off to dinner. <br />
Ah.. the best laid plans of mice and men. Oh yes we really would like to have the paella that we have planned on for 2 days but you are closed. Every restaurant is dedicated to the exact same food. We'll have to take a look at the tourist spots in the states like Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco and see it it's the same. Same menu, slightly different view, all expensive. And so back on our bicycles we went to our favorite standby, fresh bread and peanut butter and jelly with Super Bock.Pam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5237433297372195430.post-1475148317845372392010-09-27T12:49:00.000-07:002010-11-09T21:04:17.392-08:00Tomar to Fatima and on to Batalha<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio3iCCzE6UhB3ZUUeAW4MPIWwvPeEE8xPIqmv6zlvSvc-kF31_HxNmJmDu35zty-pBdn6PCzNC_ZHs33ns8Gxr5c9m7JfczIQ1fMnYMHsWOZsJfJqZ97xZduMOuYxt_fb91sm3gDW3dsE/s1600/portugal+2+140.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br />
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</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIoHfGBjuEHRnOqUhqi9YvW3a2ETw-oOTQGerF4x2FLIrT83CjwfG-iOsQg4jX_OP1fIngE_Mmgt0YO3_pl6QqlnEp9xFxryM6n1FYd1yjJPm15OQxKHMCJvJcBV_RGa1ddwBryTtYEAM/s1600/portugal+2+054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIoHfGBjuEHRnOqUhqi9YvW3a2ETw-oOTQGerF4x2FLIrT83CjwfG-iOsQg4jX_OP1fIngE_Mmgt0YO3_pl6QqlnEp9xFxryM6n1FYd1yjJPm15OQxKHMCJvJcBV_RGa1ddwBryTtYEAM/s1600/portugal+2+054.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIoHfGBjuEHRnOqUhqi9YvW3a2ETw-oOTQGerF4x2FLIrT83CjwfG-iOsQg4jX_OP1fIngE_Mmgt0YO3_pl6QqlnEp9xFxryM6n1FYd1yjJPm15OQxKHMCJvJcBV_RGa1ddwBryTtYEAM/s200/portugal+2+054.JPG" width="200" /></a> On the 13th of each month, people in the millions come and we stopped in for a few moments to check it out. It is supposedly the site, in the early 1900s, of the visitation of the Virgin Mary to 3 children, with subsequent appearances each month for several months, each time the children receiving a prophecy. <br />
You cannot come to Portugal without seeing the influence of the various religions that have made their mark here, Celts,Visigoths, Moors, Christians. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYq_N0esqx5A-pUHazVTkfpuy9d2WGUnUNWTYI3USH_ScA7x6m2ZNTms3PBCTrtNJnjL8lR9eNa5t9Jn6S1RjGo0fuLaafjcxf7Ac4CPPvZAY4dMaVz1AuOHXJEwU5sZNt4MP7sV_DeF4/s1600/portugal+2+093.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYq_N0esqx5A-pUHazVTkfpuy9d2WGUnUNWTYI3USH_ScA7x6m2ZNTms3PBCTrtNJnjL8lR9eNa5t9Jn6S1RjGo0fuLaafjcxf7Ac4CPPvZAY4dMaVz1AuOHXJEwU5sZNt4MP7sV_DeF4/s200/portugal+2+093.JPG" width="150" /></a> Deciding earlier that we were going to find a room, we picked out a whitewashed residencial with geranium window boxes right on the praca with the Monastery only to find it was full. Told to wait, the Dona could be seen running across the praca to return with another woman, in traditional Portuguese dress. There in turn we were lead to another woman who ran a tourist store and we were offered a room. <br />
At first we thought that we were going to end up in someone's house, and had been quoted the same price as the cost of the room at the first place, €30. Upon arrival however it was it´s own place, with room for our bikes, two balconies that overlooked another praca, bedroom, bath, living room, a full apartment! We got her name and number for the future, and we sank into the lap of luxury ~<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5suHhOXyu8YZRbWZX4EQ-6GbwiYcSkElXPEgqKbY7kfBQAnItQHgmg2mDKIjXJS5CfcD4wZOMilqNHAo4GDHvtTQezl7mXKOEB4x6jQWm8Qi01gaTgk-1jw3cRuGhVoTq-70Sv-AbJJk/s1600/portugal+2+094.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5suHhOXyu8YZRbWZX4EQ-6GbwiYcSkElXPEgqKbY7kfBQAnItQHgmg2mDKIjXJS5CfcD4wZOMilqNHAo4GDHvtTQezl7mXKOEB4x6jQWm8Qi01gaTgk-1jw3cRuGhVoTq-70Sv-AbJJk/s200/portugal+2+094.JPG" width="200" /></a></div> The evening was spent on the Praca at a Prosciutto bar, hams hung from the ceiling and slices of cured prosciutto piled high on rustic bread, the blue azulejo tiled room filled with local men and huge mugs of Sagres beer passed around. A good way to relax!<br />
Life is pretty good sleeping on the Big Agnes sleeping pad in the tent but beds still can`t be beat! And in room suites win hands down!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio3iCCzE6UhB3ZUUeAW4MPIWwvPeEE8xPIqmv6zlvSvc-kF31_HxNmJmDu35zty-pBdn6PCzNC_ZHs33ns8Gxr5c9m7JfczIQ1fMnYMHsWOZsJfJqZ97xZduMOuYxt_fb91sm3gDW3dsE/s1600/portugal+2+140.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio3iCCzE6UhB3ZUUeAW4MPIWwvPeEE8xPIqmv6zlvSvc-kF31_HxNmJmDu35zty-pBdn6PCzNC_ZHs33ns8Gxr5c9m7JfczIQ1fMnYMHsWOZsJfJqZ97xZduMOuYxt_fb91sm3gDW3dsE/s200/portugal+2+140.JPG" width="200" /></a> Our favorite however is the tomb of Henry the Navigator, responsible for the Age of Discovery. Not that it was more outstanding than any other tomb but of who he was, he´s just our personal wandering favorite. After an easy morning of viewing and coffees, we were off to Alcobaca.Pam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5237433297372195430.post-58754920763728613002010-09-23T11:12:00.001-07:002010-11-09T20:56:36.903-08:00Tomar<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGnzQ0pzkRXqcUFeorunb88ILh_riNdfYZXa_51FNT4JWZT1eCyksImJDPEy0bXoc8cVHqdvWdCML0tlUoLSpXlYYnkfzP2_devea6uDPl06SrzFWKiKJUUPgzIq8QKg3VEkPx7SDlSDg/s1600/Portugal+I+330.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520181287265010258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGnzQ0pzkRXqcUFeorunb88ILh_riNdfYZXa_51FNT4JWZT1eCyksImJDPEy0bXoc8cVHqdvWdCML0tlUoLSpXlYYnkfzP2_devea6uDPl06SrzFWKiKJUUPgzIq8QKg3VEkPx7SDlSDg/s200/Portugal+I+330.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 150px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3qXkxpeASJVm9vk_-xclC9XVZvzj7tR0O4O7KOutyhxuGiTap5mbmRAws-zbNwTRLb8D6bhyphenhyphenAEhf2A0xyu7BvV8EvvUFBUpdphGcadXf8KECREtVC13KOtwWZ4hUKy6sFsAV6CRU9z3s/s1600/Portugal+I+267.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520180833396317730" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3qXkxpeASJVm9vk_-xclC9XVZvzj7tR0O4O7KOutyhxuGiTap5mbmRAws-zbNwTRLb8D6bhyphenhyphenAEhf2A0xyu7BvV8EvvUFBUpdphGcadXf8KECREtVC13KOtwWZ4hUKy6sFsAV6CRU9z3s/s200/Portugal+I+267.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 150px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6YRkdouTk2Ok98AYVZa64479aSj5Q4Az7EevjzwEX0Y4Ta4gsCIBwhHqfgWrBx6zdVVrJ4ft920AMMP3xo7mYATo1L5bgC4UhfX76NambOAxApANPDjfv-XBINB4ruDVGilaV55Bs_iA/s1600/Portugal+I+297.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520180241733060450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6YRkdouTk2Ok98AYVZa64479aSj5Q4Az7EevjzwEX0Y4Ta4gsCIBwhHqfgWrBx6zdVVrJ4ft920AMMP3xo7mYATo1L5bgC4UhfX76NambOAxApANPDjfv-XBINB4ruDVGilaV55Bs_iA/s200/Portugal+I+297.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 150px;" /></a><br />
After yesterday's debacle it was easy make the choice to stay in Tomar for the day. The Bastion of the Knights Templar, it is a UNESCO World Heritage site. <br />
A charming, amazing little town and is well worth staying several days if not longer. The Municipal Campismo is right in town and surrounded by sights, restaurants, cafes..all a touring cyclist could desire.<br />
We met a fellow bicycle tourer from Holland, Henri, who has been touring around the world. He had been staying in the Municipal Campismo for a month and while loathe to leave had not found the apartment of his budget to live in for the winter so was heading farther south.<br />
Tomar is all that is described and more. The Convento de Cristo built into the Templar Castle and it's attached buildings are nothing less than magnificent. Built in various styles but particularly famous for it's Manueline architecture. The chapel itself built so the Knights could ride in on their horses to attend Mass.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn6yhQUkiyfrsQtvrZlvrmWcaWvdwhVLuhUoJG8-QYo-dnB9bUhwFm_5N5HV4UatakspwXiy7Vw1wetST8kmlCWoHJmNTgoPFXWgDPoEAGGObonIKesz8fYLwTAygtl9hc0XxZggU8elM/s1600/Portugal+247.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn6yhQUkiyfrsQtvrZlvrmWcaWvdwhVLuhUoJG8-QYo-dnB9bUhwFm_5N5HV4UatakspwXiy7Vw1wetST8kmlCWoHJmNTgoPFXWgDPoEAGGObonIKesz8fYLwTAygtl9hc0XxZggU8elM/s200/Portugal+247.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tomar with theTemplar Castle on the hill.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFIye1m7xc7JUiRHjNfQE1309dIGtYcrr-skKAUI0zAkktBfiQ3F0fbntBTS2GS3SYtN1Ho8BDnmKSRmZXj-ssheyP8RDZfTT9MzfI54ozKqMO-T4HOTc8Ee6ok4jnKp7c7TR90VHVaa8/s1600/Portugal+315.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFIye1m7xc7JUiRHjNfQE1309dIGtYcrr-skKAUI0zAkktBfiQ3F0fbntBTS2GS3SYtN1Ho8BDnmKSRmZXj-ssheyP8RDZfTT9MzfI54ozKqMO-T4HOTc8Ee6ok4jnKp7c7TR90VHVaa8/s200/Portugal+315.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Knights Templar Castle </td></tr>
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Arched bridges over waterways, cobbled streets and flowers. Statues and bronzes abound as do garden areas. We met our gardener friend who had refused us the ride but was nonetheless happy to see that we had arrived safely.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixoNOFZ7Tzq2MeFGI3mWNgMzdflOqOKTW2NSQ1tNm4UrZw7ThL_YP4o9ZqcyYJolthEAQZMN9dkyskCEUGxEJuhF9Doplv3nXQW7whnCFXmaKJmUTCQ6QVokXWOQsCIuutNJ8alU2kUIQ/s1600/Portugal+346.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixoNOFZ7Tzq2MeFGI3mWNgMzdflOqOKTW2NSQ1tNm4UrZw7ThL_YP4o9ZqcyYJolthEAQZMN9dkyskCEUGxEJuhF9Doplv3nXQW7whnCFXmaKJmUTCQ6QVokXWOQsCIuutNJ8alU2kUIQ/s200/Portugal+346.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our new friends Maria and Adelaide</td></tr>
</tbody></table> Lazy sots that we are we decided to take the Tourist Trem, a motorized train that goes around town on 2 different tours. We picked the crappy tour, rose instead of green. We did make two wonderful new friends in the process, Maria and Adelaide from Leiria. The older women had come for a short visit and also wanted the train.<br />
You had to meet a certain number of people for the train to go and so Lowell and I stood out on a mission to obtain the allocated number. In short we had success so off we went! Touring the...new part of town, the hospital, the armory , multiple multi-story housing complexes and our favorite, the 40,000 matchbox Museu de Fosforos. (Matchbook museum). As opposed to the multi-castle, 6 mile long Roman double arch aqueduct tour.<br />
With everyone staring as we went by the four of us turned it into a personal parade with much waving and laughing. At the end we parted with an invitation to visit and we were off for another pastry, this time an egg creme filled sugar sprinkled monstrosity.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfcf_awxf1RktNIY-y1svU70VOTotptUmJAU-2Livv_PxlFJqIlDm-KpzV2hGWHkopC4SzE4ZVELue3wytBKq8KXH1uv_JP4KLM3cQu4uY9prY493Fq8RFYqnr-NCTh_PkCvZfSjDE8yo/s1600/Portugal+356.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfcf_awxf1RktNIY-y1svU70VOTotptUmJAU-2Livv_PxlFJqIlDm-KpzV2hGWHkopC4SzE4ZVELue3wytBKq8KXH1uv_JP4KLM3cQu4uY9prY493Fq8RFYqnr-NCTh_PkCvZfSjDE8yo/s200/Portugal+356.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The evening view from the St. Iris cafe.</td></tr>
</tbody></table> We are finishing out the day with a beer and free wifi at an outdoor cafe bar, St. Iris, a mere one block from the municipal campground, watching the sun set over the castle while the Dumbo elephant children's ride sits next to us playing Hi Ho from Sleeping Beauty.Pam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5237433297372195430.post-80461112743557343112010-09-23T10:28:00.000-07:002010-09-23T11:11:48.753-07:00Coimbra to Tomar<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg86jnNA6Cm-eMW6bvzXpwefCY8HJhyphenhyphenADw45DbnehaZJp2B11DSba7F4HaCOvUJL-P1x7tDsQCpNvnsP-QJOAnDzLcBWyKEa3F1b_Ba7BcgJw9oELP0lR2MWagjfS4QAUvvQWWsAZtvDyA/s1600/Portugal+I+246.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg86jnNA6Cm-eMW6bvzXpwefCY8HJhyphenhyphenADw45DbnehaZJp2B11DSba7F4HaCOvUJL-P1x7tDsQCpNvnsP-QJOAnDzLcBWyKEa3F1b_Ba7BcgJw9oELP0lR2MWagjfS4QAUvvQWWsAZtvDyA/s200/Portugal+I+246.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520170344160704258" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtjlE7cxSO5nqzGm7Eg33NDkWLyWgj373SyHvBN8KPuIn940KV5ulqgmeKLrt5FS218bvxwsRHz1k4T318PhGOnNyR4GKwC9AD7aMcrgt-VY-J5DTvXqo3-kfXwQYDhSVMir2R_THOh4Q/s1600/Portugal+I+237.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtjlE7cxSO5nqzGm7Eg33NDkWLyWgj373SyHvBN8KPuIn940KV5ulqgmeKLrt5FS218bvxwsRHz1k4T318PhGOnNyR4GKwC9AD7aMcrgt-VY-J5DTvXqo3-kfXwQYDhSVMir2R_THOh4Q/s200/Portugal+I+237.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520169792604683314" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj3WKI3NllTTYe1LtWoRiqOjLBVaDx289gWoohp0kWZ5tvOIDovuAIa9nsh9gd1U1S-pTRsM5fLj_C70ydpK28kQ8ZYBpMN_of2P3FWH-c2vKk3dlVkBJ9G4ZkYEcjHXhMTBdVKgw5wgU/s1600/Portugal+I+234.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj3WKI3NllTTYe1LtWoRiqOjLBVaDx289gWoohp0kWZ5tvOIDovuAIa9nsh9gd1U1S-pTRsM5fLj_C70ydpK28kQ8ZYBpMN_of2P3FWH-c2vKk3dlVkBJ9G4ZkYEcjHXhMTBdVKgw5wgU/s200/Portugal+I+234.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520169223818452450" border="0" /></a><br />We didn't expect to do 60 miles and 2300 feet of climbing but it's how it ended. Our goal was to have a short day, starting out with good directions for safe bicycling by our new friend at the Municipal Campismo, Rita, and head to Conimbriga, home to an extensive complex of Roman Ruins. Eventually our camp was to be in Penela.<br />A fast route out of town had us the 12 K to Conimbriga in short time. The site are the most well preserved Roman ruins on the Iberian Peninsula and has multiple sections. Houses, now in ruins but with intricate tile mosaic floors intact, baths, laundries, gardens, the requisite Christian chapel built on top of an old bathing area. Floors made with a Swastika design that symbolizes peace. Under a covering is the house of fountains which has had the fountains and water gardens restored. A lunch under the olive trees in the heat and with our new best friends, the flies, we were on our way again. Climbing our way to the mountain top destination of Penela with it's crowning castle we find... the mercado is back downhill , there is no ice and the Municipal campground is closed with no poaching available. we had run out of luck.<br />Deciding to head further on towards Tomar, we decided to wild camp as there were no campsites or find a residencial/pousada. No such luck and we were on road we do not recommend, the N110/N1. Narrow and a major truck way, no shoulders. I will give credit that many tried to avoid us but there was just no room and Lowell, for the third time this trip, took a fall trying to jump onto a sidewalk.<br />It did provide lots of local entertainment as he hit the garage door of the local bar, mind you one foot from the street, and had what had to be all 8 of the people who lived in town out on their balconies or out of the bar. At least this time there was no blood and he was up and going again with only sore elbows.<br />Several stops incurred attempting to find a place to put the tent but all just shook their heads and said that camping was down the road as the sun was dropping.<br />Attempting to pay gardners with a large truck to take us in to Tomar, where they were going did not work as there was no room in the car and the driver would not allow us in the back..<br />Chatting with people at the gas station came up with 2 options though. One, a residencial and two the campground. The residencial was just down the street and looked great but camping was 3 K and so we opted for it instead. It was a mistake.<br />No campground, nada, nein, nicht, nao. No wild camping and we were left with one more choice, 10 K from Tomar was a Residencial that the gardner had mentioned. Upon arrival it was dark, dirty, dingy, dogs barking, drunk men lounging and without much discussion we moved on. We would just pound out the last 10 K.<br />By this time it was completely dark and even with lots of lights and reflectors and reflective vests it was a bit scary. But LM! occurs.. it's all downhill. When we came to the major interchange roundabout it had every direction on the compass to Tomar. LM! we chose the right one and it headed downhill all the way, quite a long way, directly to the Municipal Campismo.Pam and Lowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09262149596087602928noreply@blogger.com0