A glorious, but empty, sight. Though, to be fair, it’s pouring again today. And there was me, getting ready to sing on the balcony! No, we haven’t reached lockdown yet, but our President is trying his best to contain the beast with State of Emergency measures. We can only respect that.
Meanwhile, Debbie is making the earth move. In Six Words. Join me for another walk on Monday and some virtual fresh air.
Dawn breaks over the castle at Marvão, serene and beautiful. I had been niggling for a little while. ‘Can we have a few days away?’ before company arrives and the summer hots up. How lucky was I? A virus was nibbling away at all our lives. The situation was to take a turn for the worse in my absence. But I was granted a reprieve. Pure escapism! To the border country, on the heights of the Alentejo, here in Portugal.
It was a little drab on our arrival, cloud pressing down on our heads, but undeterred we took to the walls. Finding them full of rich promise.
As evening settled around us, slowly, a break in the clouds, and the last of the sun’s warmth painted the sky. Coral tones, delighting my heart.
I could hardly wait to see what the next day would bring! The world floated beneath me, the natural park of the Serra de Sáo Mamede. Ahead the proud and mighty castle, never yet conquered, with its petticoat of gardens, and a fountain playing gently in the dusk. Nearby the Igreja Santiago seemed still to be open. Timidly I poked my head inside, to be greeted with a welcoming smile.
Gratefully we returned to the hotel for supper. Although the forecast for the next day was good, I wasn’t overly confident, but it dawned with clouds high and puffy in a beautiful blue sky. I would be able to see Marvão at its glorious best.
Much of the village is in pristine condition, but here and there a door or window caught my eye. A candidate for a little affection.
Personality and gentle humour seem to characterise Marvão, but nothing overshadows the castle, looking down on the village from its granite crag.
The cisterna is remarkable for its size, 10 metres by 46. It was built to gather sufficient rainwater to last 6 months, in case of siege. There is no other natural source on the peak of the mountain, almost 900 metres above sea level.
Just beyond the castle, the former Igreja da Santa Maria is now a very beautiful museum.
We had much to see in the valley below, but later that evening we returned to Marvão for supper, to find the castle floodlit.
The photo quality is poor, but I know you always appreciate cake. You may have realised that I was completely smitten with Marvão. We were leaving the next day and, desperate for one last look, I crept out of the hotel at dawn, entranced by the mists floating in the valley.
I had not intended to return to blogging so soon, but much is happening in our world, and for me you are all a part of that. On our return, Portugal had closed schools and suspended all public and social events. Group activities are at an end, restaurants are reducing numbers if not closing, and now the border with Spain is closed. It is all precautionary and time will tell how effective it will be, but meantime I shall try to brighten your lives, as I always have. And, of course, there are walks to share.
Rupali, reminding me what snow looks like (and it does snow in Marvão, but not on my visit)
Liesbet has a little fun, and gets licked!
Happy Cows – A Walk in the Field
Drake knows Paris better than most of us :
Miriam brings us beautiful vistas, in her own special way :
While Cathy continues to be beautifully disgruntled in Rome!
Promises, promises in the Vatican Museums
And Margaret? Well, it seems she likes wallowing in mud 🙂
Roughly the Same Walk as Last Week
That’s it for now. Take good care of yourselves, and don’t loose heart. We’re all in this together!
I love the approach to Alcoutim! You can follow the road from the coast out alongside the River Guadiana for much of the way, with tantalising glimpses ahead and back as you round the many bends. Just as you come to the village, the road curves and you have a fine view, down onto Alcoutim, and across to whitewashed Sanlucar de Guadiana on the opposite shore, in Spain. With morning mists swirling above the water, it’s a wonderful sight, and the promise of another beautiful day.
We park the car on the edge of the village and walk across a rivulet and down towards the water. The mist is already beginning to clear and the sun feels warm. There, waiting for us, several members of the choir, Ossónoba, and a guide. It’s the third time we’ve walked with them, and we’re greeted enthusiastically and made to feel welcome. A representative of the Via Algarviana joins us, to promote the walks and ensure there are no problems. Once assembled, brief explanations are given, and we set off.
It’s normally a peaceful spot, with the ferry crossing, when summoned, in a desultory fashion. Today a regatta is taking place and there’s an air of bustle. We chat to a Dutch man who has moored his boat midstream and joined the walk, hoping the event will be over when we return.
We leave the village and start a gentle ascent, looking down on the river. Yachts dot the water, lazing the day away. But not for us, the idle life. As Alcoutim recedes, we reach a junction and begin the climb in earnest. The walk is not long, but challenging in places.
But there is the distraction of the view and the distant sparkle of the water. A small patch of arable land surprises. Despite the nearness of water the soil is bone dry underfoot. Rock Cistus cling to the slopes, and I am delighted to find one or two already open and flaunting their beauty.
At the crest of the hill the roof of a tumbledown watchman’s cottage appears, through a froth of weeds. I peer through the sorry window, and out at the landscape beyond. So frail, the skeletal timbers. No place to hide.
I don’t envy the chill nights up here, a lonely vigil, watching for the enemy. But in the brightness of day I could be seduced into a watchman’s life.
And then it’s time to begin the descent. Slowly, at times, keeping my knees together and pigeon-toed, or sideways like a crab, on the steep parts. A helping hand is extended if I wobble, but I’m glad to return to level ground. I have little in common with mountain goats. Some of the choir begin to sing, purely for the joy of it, and I smile as I recognise the tune.
Back in the village, we follow the signs for the river beach. A chorus of delight greets a large family of black pigs, rootling about as pigs will. Pork is plentiful in the Algarve, porco preto appearing on many menus. Lamb is more expensive, and I can never bring myself to enjoy it, especially when, as now, they frolic in the fields, pestering mum for another feed.
Sand has been imported for the river beach, and there’s a pleasant little café and seating area. Plans are afoot to extend the beach, for this is a hot spot in summer. We carry on into the village, heading for lunch, where we are joined by the rest of the choir.
A poster on a weathered door announces their presence. They file into the restaurant, laughing and talking, and we meekly join them. We share a table with 2 Belgian ladies, trading experiences throughout the meal, a Portuguese stew and carob and almond desserts. As coffees are hastily produced, the choir master counts them in, and a rich, full sound fills the restaurant. Minutes later we are climbing the hill to their venue.
Performance over, it’s back into the hot sun and a gentle saunter, past the river and towards the car. Yes, I know there’s something missing, but we were busy talking during the meal and I didn’t like to interrupt with photos. But I can share with you a rather wonderful pastry that’s special to Loulé. Folhares are flaky and sugary, and oozing with warm custard.
We will be joining the choir again next week, for a final walk on the Via Algarviana. I expect I’ll share it with you at some point, but for now I intend to step back from the blog for a while. I hope you’ve enjoyed walking with me, and I’m sure that we’ll do it again. Many thanks to Ossónoba!
Guess what? Janet’s found a little warmth this week :
I think it’s always warm in Charleston, isn’t it Alice?
If you like the peaceful life, and don’t mind a little wind…
Scotland Tour: Hiking in the wild North West
Have you ever been to Charles de Gaulle airport? If so, you’ll know exactly what Drake means :
Or you can stay closer to home, and a place that I love :
Winter seems endless in some places. I don’t suppose birds mind grey, Irene?
And Ice Sculptures last much longer in cooler climes, Natalie?
A gentle sunset stroll with Carol. Is there water in the river?
It’s pretty dry where Cathy was :
Morocco: a short walk through Todra Gorge
Candy offers up some great photo opportunities :
And Georgina shows us a different side to Spain :
February Fun, Fotos and Short Walks
Let’s end with a bit of squidge from Margaret! But at least there’s blue sky :
Winter Walking in Nidderdale-with Added Mud
Keep walking! I certainly will, and you know that I can’t resist sharing for long. We have a short trip to England in April, but we’re back here for Easter. More parades, I hear you sigh! And hopefully some pastures new. Take care till then!
I’m known to cheat on occasion, but I think Loulé Carnival 2020 can provide many of the items Tina was looking for in her Treasure Hunt. And hopefully she’ll have fun looking. While Debbie continues to amaze with her ingenuity. Happy Saturday everyone!
Last day of Carnival 2020 and Moncarapacho was making the most of it. My Dad loved a party! It would have been his birthday today and I’m smiling as I think of him, tapping his stick and nodding his head to the music.
It all started with a restaurant. Some friends, who come to the Algarve a couple of times a year, particularly like to find new places to eat. And so it became a Thursday habit for a small group of us to meet for lunch. One such outing took us to Pecháo, a small village in the neighbourhood of Olháo. Fully sated from a lovely meal, I thought I might take a look at the village church. I was in luck, for it was open, and I slipped inside to look.
A couple were praying devoutly so I did not linger, but outside the church I stopped to read a notice board. Apparently a chapel has existed on this site since 1482, and the current Igreja de Sáo Bartolomeu probably dates from the 18th century. Close by the church the small ossuary, or bone chapel, took me by surprise. Reading that there was a ‘route of churches’, we decided to return for a walk one day.
And so, a couple of weeks later, I found myself and partner in crime back in Largo da Igreja, examining our surrounds more closely. Always one for the details, he had researched the walks, produced a map and decided which of three routes we should follow. PR5OLH, at 7.5km, was a level, easy walk, which suited because I was succumbing to a virus and not at my best, but not willing to stay at home on such a beautiful day.
The walk wound through the back streets of the village, past a series of ageing gardens. I was highly amused to find, at a convenient crossroads, a similarly aged chair beside a bench, and a waiting orange. (On our return, three elderly gentlemen sat side by side, orange presumably shared).
Leaving the village we crossed the Ribeira de Bela Mandil, where water must once have flowed. A path led alongside the dry stream, to the Nora de Viriato, an impressively solid-looking well. Bright Crocosmia blazed beside a wearying olive tree.
We made a circuit of lanes and tracks, passing immense polytunnels (papaya?) and a few beautiful villas, meanwhile attracting a number of unfriendly canines, some of whom wag their tails. I never know if this is a good sign, or not. Pretty pink cistus winked at us, blossom trees leaning into the breeze one last time. Confident of not getting the shot, I trailed a butterfly across a patch of Bermuda Buttercups. Outwitted every time.
Soon we were in sight of the village. The water tower, and cemetery- uncomfortably close neighbours, and yet they seem a natural fit.
But I know from long experience that your interest lies elsewhere. I should tell you that the lovely place we ate was called Gunther’s– not a typical village restaurant, but I can highly recommend it. No more Thursday luncheons for the time being, as our friends return to the UK this week.
Thank you for your patience. I can tell you that I am now fully recovered and that I will be walking with you again next week. After that I propose a short break while I get my thoughts in order. So, if you have a walk that you’re longing to share, please do it this week. You know the formula here on Jo’s Monday walk. And I’ll try to make you welcome.
Spring doesn’t always bring happiness. Pop over and give Eunice a hug?
Rosemay continues her wander down Memory Lane, in London’s lesser known haunts :
Off the Tourist Trail in London- Stoke Newington and Clissold Park
There have been a few complaints about the weather lately, but not from Drake!
We all dream of different things. Happy to view Janet’s from afar :
Jo’s Monday walk…my dream walk
But Irene says it’s been a mild winter :
Looking for an interesting Dutch city to explore? Debbie has the answer :
Or you can have fun entertaining a 4-year old, with Margaret :
While Cathy takes us into the world of the Berbers :
Morocco: Merzouga to El-Khorbat
And me? Well, it’s Carnival week. Not Rio, but doing our best. Take care till next time!
But everybody joins in at Carnival. And it was dry and sunny, unlike Debbie’s Six Words. Have a great weekend!
I’m keeping it short this week, rather like my trip to Spain. In fact, this is a visit I wasn’t planning to share, but sometimes, despite my best intentions, the camera starts clicking of it’s own volition. Before you know it, I’ve got another Monday walk!
I’ve mentioned several times that on Sundays I generally take part in Todos a Caminhar (Let’s all walk!). A health initiative, organised by the local council, the walks take part across the Algarve and, once a year, extend across the Guadiana to Ayamonte parish, on the Spanish border. Last year we went along, on a romp through salt marshes very similar to those in our Algarve. You might wonder about the point of this. On my part it was mostly curiosity. I wanted to see if it differed from the Algarve walks, and I always enjoy walking in new territory. No such excuse this year, but some friends wanted to go, so we volunteered to give them a lift.
As we neared the sports centre, venue for the walk last year, we remarked on the absence of cars. Last year they had lined the road. Worse still, when we parked up in Punta del Moral, the streets were empty. Puzzled, we listened for the sound of music or some sign of activity. Slowly it was dawning on us that we might be in the wrong place. Fortunately a number of others had made the same mistake, including a coachload of prospective walkers. When they radioed for help, and were obviously redirected, we scurried back to our car and followed. The venue was not as advertised, but in the nearby resort, Isla Canela. We arrived just in time to join the throng, and head off through the starting gate.
I assumed we would be heading across the salt marshes on roughly the same trajectory as last year, but no! We stayed on the footpath, and followed the road back in the direction from which we’d arrived. A bit of a disappointment, but it did mean a closer look at the Torre Canela. One of 40 towers, commissioned by Felipe II in the 1500s for the defence of the Andalucian coast, it was reluctantly paid for by a fishing tax on the local community. The tower is special in that it contains a well at its centre, but the site is closed on Sundays.
Next we were directed around the back of the resort, closed and tired-looking in its winter garb, out to the lengthy promenade. The almost deserted beach doesn’t have sands as golden as those that surround me in the Algarve, but the palm trees and lace curtains of white broom create a fragrant backdrop. So beautiful, it’s just one more sign that Spring is rolling along in my part of the world.
Eventually we arrive back in the immaculate marina, the focal point of this rather soulless resort. Building work continues so there must be a market, but I was happy to cross the water to the real Spain, no less attractive for being a little shabby round the edges.
We chose a restaurant by the waterside to look back on Isla Canela. Faced with a menu in Spanish we became surprisingly fluent in Portuguese, but the waitress was kind. And we can ask for dessert in many languages!
We thought the roses a rather romantic touch. And my triple chocolate mousse was delicious.
I’m still in a state of wibble regarding future scheduling, but there will be another Jo’s Monday walk next week. Thank you so much for all your kind thoughts. It’s not easy to stop when we have so much fun together. You are great company!
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All’s right in Amanda’s world!
Walking with Kangaroos and Galahs
Isn’t this a lovely name? We could all do with a bit of this, Alice :
I was so relieved when I found it was the geese Janet was talking about!
Jo’s Monday Walk…morning light and taking a bath
Just when I’m starting to think warmth, Irene has me shivering again :
Food and art- 2 subjects dear to Jackie’s heart :
Eunice loves street art, too. Her lovely dog has just died, so please visit. She might enjoy the company :
If anyone has a spirit of adventure, it’s Mel, but she’s also an appreciator of art :
Art Outside – Getting Out Amongst Walcha’s Sculptures
Drake has a sense of adventure too, and an eye for an interesting shot :
While Cathy takes an intimate look at Italy’s capital :
Rome: Continuing the “heart of Rome” walk past the Spanish Steps & the Trevi Fountain
And Natalie gets up close and personal with a waterfall :
Hiking to Devil’s Cauldron Waterfall
Let’s finish with Jude. Who wouldn’t want an amble with her? I’ll get there myself one day!
Have a great week everybody! This last one has flown.
I love these cruets, don’t you? I’m dancing tonight. Feel the love over at Debbie’s place. Happy weekend!
At this time of year I’m seriously enamoured of almond blossom. Singly they are like small girls, spreading their skirts in a graceful curtsy. On a laden bough, they are the chorus line in Swan Lake, fluttering together in delicate motion. Like the dying swan, their days are numbered, for already they’ve been in bloom for a month.
The variety of colours confuses me. I was told recently that the paler blossoms are sweet almonds and the darker ones are bitter but I haven’t been able to verify this. I’m happy just to admire. In any case, I digress, and it’s time to get started on our walk. You will have gathered that I’m back in the Algarve hills, this time our start point a small village, Corte Pequena, with its own orange grove.
On a Saturday morning all was peaceful, far removed from the bustle of the city. A small terrier took it upon himself to defend his territory, but soon realised we were harmless enough and gave up. We didn’t have to walk far to find blossom.
Nor the wild clover that blooms everywhere in the Algarve at this time of year. It’s widely regarded as a pest, but so pretty! We followed the gentle gradient of the hills, climbing to a vantage point overlooking the dam at Odeleite. In the distance a herd of goats graze.
Despite recent rains the water levels are still quite low. Strangulated trees lean into the valley, some twisted by nature while others were burnt out some years ago. Bamboo follows a narrow stream through the valley bed, but we find a good point to cross, with just a stride or two and a held hand. Sometimes it can require a good plodge.
Soon we have come full circle and the village is spread out before us. As we descend a young dog decides that we will make good company. He gambols playfully alongside us, setting off a chorus of warnings from his wiser elders. Perhaps they are aware that sheep wander loose here.
For a moment we think that we are going to be playing Pied Piper to the flock, followed by an irate shepherd. But fortunately sheep have a short attention span and we are less interesting than the juicy grazing. I suspect you know the feeling.
That has to be one of the tastiest almond tarts I’ve ever eaten. The mural and wonderful metal sculptures were at the start of the Amendoeira (Almond Blossom) Trail, at nearby Alta Mora.
I’ve been walking with you weekly (or weakly!) for 6 years next month, and I’m thinking I should call time on our perambulations. Or cut back to a monthly, or fortnightly, event. I’m just as restless as ever, but I’m resident in Portugal now and many of my wanderings are local. I don’t want to bore you all, and I might like to try something different. I expect there’d still be occasional cake.
Meantime, thank you for your support and your wonderful company. Here are this week’s walks.
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If only Janet could walk in a straight line!
Alice lives in a very beautiful place, and is happy to share :
A Symbol of Hospitality- Pineapple Fountain
A gentle look at life from Drake this week :
It’s ages since I went along to the other end of the Algarve. This is a lovely walk!
Randonnée / Hike from Armacáo de Pera to Praia de Marinha
Reminding us that Valentine’s Day is almost here, Natalie takes…
While Cathy looks at local and Civil War history in Virginia, US :
Cedar Creek & Belle Grove National Historical Park
And Rosemay checks out a little family history in north London :
Off the Tourist Trail in London – A Stroll round Islington
Wishing you a great week! Hopefully the storms have passed.
restlessjo 
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