The End of the Road

     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.

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.

Church with azulejo tiles

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!)

Our private bicycle entrance at the Residencial Grande Rio

      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.
     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.

    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.

The 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.

The cyclist's campground.

      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.
    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.
    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.
    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.

Pedro Rocha and Family

     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.
     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.

 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!

And 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.

     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.

Residencial D'Avis Mestre

     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.

     "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!"

   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.
   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.

   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!
   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.

Alexandra, Receptionista Extraordinaire

  

Making it to Guimaraes

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.

      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!

     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 .

     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.

     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. 

     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.

    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.

   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.

     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.

    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.

     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 ..

    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.

Cascais Layover

     The campground in Guincho by Cascais, as mentioned, is highly recommended, although being here is fall is probably a lot different than mid summer.  The Pine trees are short and the tops, while not trimmed are even and the trunks are bent giving the impression of bonsai.

     Lightly sanded campsites separated by stone walls, the campground sits on a hillside sheltered from the winds directly off the Atlantic by sand dunes.  Cats abound and are seen roaming in the dunes and between the dunes the sea can be seen.  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.

     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.  Please see attached photo to view Lowell in the very special moment of romantic farting.

     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,  we felt very sorry for the stragglers arriving tired and haggard.

     The Mercado was closed and they were out of supplies.  Our new best friend however was Marco, the bartender/ store clerk.  Brasilian, we had struck up quite a friendship around Super Bock, vinho verde and Brasil.  What’s a new friend for!  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!

     There is a 9K bicycle path from Guincho to Cascais and 2K from Cascais to Estoril.  Cruising along the coast with a fabulous tailwind we pass Bocas do Inferno, the Mouths of Hell.   They would probably be spectacular during a storm but were only just spitting as we passed.  The town also provides free bicycles for the day!

     Scattered throughout the town in the mainly tourist areas are geared bicycles with baskets that are free to use for an entire day.  If you decide to check one out go early as this is a popular option.  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.

   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.

        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.  It is an area to gently wile away the time.

     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.  (For more info on this see the section For Cycling Tourists).

    Riding back along the fortess and esplanade we met Harry from Pennsylvania by almost running him over in slow motion.  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.

    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.

   

    

Ericeira to Cascais

     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. 

     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  boards as they are all wearing wetsuits . We are certainly  warm water surfers.  Since Peniche we have seen surfers at pretty much every surf break and notice license plates from all over Europe

   Fueled by the morning café session  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.

   Coming into Sintra we stop at the tourism office and check the city layout and ask about bicycles on the train.  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.  As a vegetarian Lowell has been short on solid meals in Portugal and Chinese is a welcome opportunity for him.

    Sintra is scattered with palaces and gardens, the 30 heactare park Monsserate  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. 

     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.

  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

   The downhill run shorted end and evolved into a 5K climb on our way to Cabo Roca, the farthest point west in Europe.  It is a lighthouse and people arriving there can receive a certificate. We planned on finding someone to take our picture together.  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.

  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.

   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.

    

Nazare to Obidos to Peniche

     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.
     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.

     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.

     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.
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.
    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. 
    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.
     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.
    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.

   


 

Tomar to Fatima and on to Batalha

     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.
     You cannot come to Portugal without seeing the influence of the various religions that have made their mark here, Celts,Visigoths, Moors, Christians.
     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.
     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 ~

     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!
     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!
     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.

Tomar

      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.     
     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.
     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.
     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.

Tomar with theTemplar Castle on the hill.

Knights Templar Castle

     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.

Our new friends Maria and Adelaide

      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.
     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.
     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.

The evening view from the St. Iris cafe.

     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.

Coimbra

Coimbra is a town famous for it's university and after a long and somewhat eventful trip we made it. The Municipal Campimisso comes highly recommended by us. Perched upon a hillside (though cyclists beware, it is a long climb on commuter heavy streets), it has views down the backside of wooded forest and, depending on the site, highway. But the free showers with free toilet paper, and all the previous mentioned amenities make for an awesome stay. It is however a typical Portuguese campground with sites close together and the best ones reserved for the motor-homes as few people tent camp.
We started our Coimbra visit the easy way, taking a 5 euro taxi to the top of the hill that the University and the city is perched on and made our way down the river. Starting at the Praca Dom Dinis we had a great lunch of shrimp sandwiches for 2 euro and heading over to the Biblioteca where over 30,000 volumes of 14, 15 and 16 Century major writings are stored, everything gilded top to bottom. On oak cabinet shelves to avoid insects and a family of bats that live there to take care of the rest. Due to inherent temperature control via the actual building, insects are the major enemy of the papers and the bats take care of those that live past the oak. Every night the caretaker covers all the tables and furniture with leather covers to protect from bat droppings and each morning he removes them. Lowell commented that this would be the design of my perfect house. Nothing but books and someone to dust them.

The Biblioteca of Coimbra University with Dom Denis in foreground.

On to the Chapel of St Miguel, where we watched a French tourist berated not only by the woman docent of the chapel but his tour group for taking pictures and stood looking at the spectacular display of art, albeit religious and poor St. Miguel holding his heart full of arrows in his hand. Lowell often wonders out loud why Jesus is always shown on his worst day ever?

Coimbra City Downhill Press Conference

Onward thru narrow cobblestone walkways listening to a cello playing from a window to the Se Velha or Old Cathedral where a press conference on the new downhill mountain bike competition to occur actually within the city on the cobblestone streets was being held.
The streets are filled with the traditionally dressed students of the Uni in black dresses and suits and black caps, just think Harry Potter and you will have it. New students however are not allowed the traditional manner but are made to do strange things in public as a manner of Freshman hazing such as walking holding hands but between the legs, singing each House's song ad nauseum very loudly, or out on a scavenger hunt.

The caped students of Coimbra University

At one point we overheard a group get directions at Beca dos Gatos and upon seeing another group of the same were able to pass on the information. " Duas quadras antes Se Velha, olha para placa Beca dos Gatos e viri direta!" Or something like that.
Super Bock in the Praca Republica, on to more streets filled with tiled buildings, Moorish architecture and thieves. We like to pick them out but so far have been left alone. Past the Roma/Gypsy beggars we found gold! An Indian cuisine restaurant where Lowell was able to fill his veggie heart to the brim and then a quick taxi to camp and packing to prepare for the next leg, Coimbra to ??? We had yet to decide.