#thursdaysspecial

The Church of São Francisco

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Tavira, in the Eastern Algarve, has a reputation for restoring her many churches.  In the years I have been visiting I have marvelled at some of the changes wrought.  Still it is a thrill to turn a corner and find another, ripe for renovation.  If you look closely at the gallery below, you will see what I mean.  Exposed bare plaster scars the walls and alcoves.

Previously I had only been into the gardens, the church being always locked.  Just occasionally the gardens would be padlocked too, and I’d feel a sense of deprivation.  A quiet bench, the overgrown trees dappling patterns onto ruined walls, somehow they provide a warm and soothing space.

Still, it was a revelation to venture inside this church.  First appearances can be deceptive.  A curtain veiled the entrance to a side chapel.  Stepping through a little cautiously, I was utterly unprepared for the figures that greeted me there.

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The Church of São Francisco has met with it’s share of disasters.  Since construction in 1272 it has suffered 2 earthquakes (in 1722 and 1755), a landslide in 1843 and a fire in 1881.  Perhaps it’s time it had a little luck.  Should you find yourself in Tavira and the church happens to be open, please deposit a few coins in the collection box.  It may help speed the recovery.

This might not be what Paula had in mind for Traces of the Past this week, but it’s an opportunity to share with you Thursday’s Special.

 

A walking retrospective

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You probably think you’re seeing double!  This is the opening photo for my most recent walk, Boxing Day Blues.  It’s hard to select favourites but my criteria is often that a photo takes you back to a moment in time. For me this was a clear, bright, quite unparalleled December day.

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Would you believe that this one was taken in August, but how could I leave out such a winning smile? Gargrave in the rain was one of the most joyful moments of my past year.  A wedding anniversary weekend!

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By contrast, Autumn this year was a riot of colour, and I can still feel that warm November sun on my back as I stood in the churchyard, surveying the magnificent ruins of Flamboyant Autumn at Easby Abbey.

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October was a time of great sadness for me.  I never could have guessed that, as I looked up at this church in Alternative Ayamonte, my Dad had only hours to live.  I was abroad in my beautiful Algarve, but my heart really wasn’t in it.

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How could it only have been a couple of weeks before that I was so joyfully walking the Water of Leith, excited to meet for the first time with my lovely friend Jude?  A landmark event!

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Can’t help but share a moment of north eastern pride with the celebrated Tall Ships Regatta at Blyth in August.  How proud Dad would have been of the Polish ships taking part.  He was always a patriot.

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Which transports me back to July, when I met a lady with a fabulous smile in the City of Birmingham.  It was my first time in the city and I loved it. Thanks, Gilly!  I know I made a friend for life.

It was a water lily Summer.  They were everywhere!  I visited many beautiful gardens, such as Newby Hall, in June.  Funny how so many of you were more interested in the cake than the flowers!

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I spent two wonderful weeks in Poland to coincide with the May Bank Holiday.  My cousin Adam is a baker but always manages a few days off that weekend for his birthday.  It was Dad’s favourite time to go, and I was so happy that I got to spend this precious time with him.  Naughtily though, I did manage to escape, into the arms of another friend for life- Meeting Meg!

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In that early part of the year I was leading a charmed life.  My visit to Poland was sandwiched with trips to the Algarve and many walking excursions. A day at Mertola in the Alentejo was particularly memorable.

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April, always the time for lambs, I threw one little chap into total panic as I held a gate open for him. Lambkins and Bikes– a winning combination?

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I was delighted to have my lovely daughter home for Easter, in March.  The highlight of that weekend was the Butterfly Trail in nearby Preston Park. They are incredible creatures, and almost as exotic as my daughter.

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February in the Algarve is synonymous with Amendoeira– Almond Blossom.  And, of course, Carnival, but that’s an entirely different story.

IMG_2245 And so we find ourselves in January, and Saltburn in Winter.  It’s a lovely seaside town on the North Yorkshire coast, a place I like to stroll at any time of year.

What a year of highs and lows it’s been.  I have Paula to thank for leading me back through the months. Thursday’s Special this week is Retrospective.  Don’t miss it!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A fascination with…

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All things Aquatic.  How about you?  I know that Paula’s partial.  Pick a Word in December over at Thursday’s Special.

Ascending

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Ascending through grey

Slicing sad, foreboding clouds.

Miracle of flight

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I’m struggling a bit with blogging at the minute.  All the zap seems to have gone out of me.  It’s natural enough, I suppose.  I hate these grey skies and Dad’s loss has left an emptiness.  The day I left Faro was one of the longest in my life.  The sky itself felt full of sorrow, and I both wanted, but dreaded, to be home again.  But down on the Praia life went on.  A battle with the elements that held me captive for a few sweet moments.

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If there’s one thing you can rely on it’s that Thursday’s Special, and that Paula will do her best to make it so.  Thanks, lovely lady.

Jo’s Monday walk : The Masmorra Trail

In total contrast to last week’s walk, I’m taking you up into the Algarve hills today.  Winding 43kms north of Tavira on a delicious roller coaster of a road, you will find the sleepy village of Cachopo.  We can stop there on the way back, but for now we’re following signs for Martim Longo.  High up, the scenery is beautiful, even though wearing its scorched autumn gown.

A left turn and you’re on barely surfaced roads that lead you, slowly, through three scarcely known villages to your ultimate destination, Mealha. Why so much effort, you might be wondering?  Dolmens, or standing stones are the answer.  I’m taking a step back in time to the 3rd millennia BC. But first, the village of Mealha, not without its own charms, including these witches’ hat buildings.

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These circular buildings, with a conical roof, are known as ‘palheiros’ and are designed to store hay for cattle.  Made of slate, the roofs are constructed of reeds from the river bed and ‘thatched’ with hay.   Up to 6 metres in diameter and 2.5 metres high, it is not unknown for them to have provided dwelling places in the past.  A little cramped, I think.

Distracted as I am, taking photos of the pointed huts and wells, I leave navigation to my partner.  He’s usually reliable, but on this occasion it takes 3 false starts to escape the clutches of the village.  Despite knowing smiles and hand signs from the villagers, we find ourselves scaling walls, only to end up in a cabbage patch.  Not shown on the map!  We cross the ‘ribeirinha’, the river bed, and fortunately dry, in entirely the wrong place. Eventually we manage to get back on track, but never with any great conviction.  It’s a warm day and I am concerned to conserve our water rations.

Some of the confusion arises because there are 3 trails leading out of the village.  We are attempting to follow PR8, which we take to be the Masmorra Trail featured in our guide book.  Much of the route seems to be uphill, but the sky has cleared to that lovely blue again, with a nice cooling breeze.  More uncertainty as the trails cross over each other, but upwards seems to be the right choice.

Not quite in despair, we are very relieved to spot, in the distance, a pair of ruined windmills.  Thank heavens, we are still on course, and we know that the dolmens are close by.  True to form, I almost pass them by.

“They’ll only be tiny” said the voice of reason.  I hadn’t expected them to be huge, but I could quite easily have gone romping down the other side of the hill and missed them completely.  Fortunately, one of us is paying attention.  After all, how big does a burial chamber need to be?  Somewhat irreverently I hop down inside, in hot pursuit of a dozing lizard.  In seconds he is alert and shimmying off into a crevice.

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The Masmorra ‘anta’, or burial chamber, is 3.20 metres in diameter and comprised of 9 vertically positioned slabs.  The access would have been covered and was through a lower corridor, facing east and aligned to coincide with sunrise at the Summer Solstice.  The coverings have disappeared but the slab for the chamber would have been very large.  The ‘antas’ are always positioned on high ground, and often marking a territorial boundary.  They helped to dissuade unwelcome visitors with their magical, religious aura.

The route back to Mealha was short, downhill and very straightforward, which had us wondering if we mightn’t have been better to tackle it the other way around.  Hindsight is a wonderful thing.  You might like to compare my account with that of Becky, who was there last year.

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Did you realise that I was going to link this post to Paula?  It’s perfect for Traces of the Past, isn’t it?  Then we’ll have a swift look at Cachopo.  The intention was to have a leisurely lunch and rest our weary feet.  Palmeiras bar had the prettiest little vine covered garden, but no food.  Trying her very best, the lovely lady behind the counter produced a dish of fresh monkey nuts to accompany our wine.  Oh, well…

This walk is featured on page 104 in Walking Trails of the Algarve, should you decide to give it a go.  If not you might prefer a little wander in the back streets of Cachopo.  Now let’s get the kettle on, shall we?

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Another bumper selection of wonderful walks this week.  I know it takes time but do please find a moment to visit.  So much effort goes into these walks and I’m very appreciative.  If you’d like to join me, details are on my Jo’s Monday walk page.  All are welcome.

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I know nothing about Williamsburg, but Jackie’s soon going to put that right!

Day 3, Williamsburg VA

Violet Sky has a real treat in store this week.  Don’t miss this one!

Mums on parade

Jesh always has something a little different for you :

Nostalgic Walk

30 years of walking sounds fearful!  Only joking, Geoff :

30 years on…#walking

Making the most of this lovely Autumn with Little Miss Traveler :

An autumn stroll around Burley-inWharfedale 

And I have a lovely new contributor- welcome Woolly!

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BiTi has more wonderful photos from Yosemite :

Yosemite National Park- between sunrise and sunset

And Jaspa trespasses on Jude territory.  Understandably, he seems to like it!

Wheal Coates UNESCO Tin Mine, Cornwall

Tish Farrell is one of the most emotive writers I know, so it was a real pleasure to share a drowsy afternoon with her :

All Gold On All Hallows’ Eve in Bishop’s Castle

I love the west coast of the Algarve and I know you’ll enjoy seeing it with Jules.  Please go and say hi!

Five days alone hiking the Fishermen’s Trail

Drake, meanwhile is in the very best of company, down on Mathew Street :

Let it be

I’m sure most of you know Andrew, but if you haven’t had the pleasure…

Greek Islands, Amorgos and a Walk Through History

Denzil has a few ideas for keeping the family entertained on your walks :

The Fun of Finding and Photographing Fungi 

Kathryn takes us on ramble no. 20, California style :

Ewoldsen Trail

And Tobias bestows a little sparkle and shine this Monday morning :

Golden Hour

I can’t imagine anybody less idle than my lovely friend Meg.  Here’s another treat from her :

An idle stroll 

Fabulous, aren’t they?  Thank you so much for your company, and I hope you all have a great week.

 

Clandestine- Cloak and dagger in Holyrood Palace

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Few places are more redolent of Scottish history than Holyrood Palace in Edinburgh, the principal residence of the kings and queens of Scotland since the 16th century.  On a mist-shrouded day I approach the Royal Arms of Scotland over the gateway.  I know that the cloisters within are as far as my camera can take me, yet somehow I don’t mind.

Audio clasped to my ear, I gaze around me.  Aged tapestries clothe wood-paneled walls, the furniture worn but sumptuous.  Not hard at all to picture Bonnie Prince Charlie in this setting.  The ancient floors creak and give under modern shoes.  In the endless Great Gallery I sink onto a stool to absorb the weight of majestic paintings, commissioned by Charles II.

Through the King’s Ante-Chamber, his Bedchamber and Closet I have crept reverently, but the spell of this house is all bound up in the unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots.  Arch rival to Elizabeth I, her life was surrounded by intrigue and plots.  You can almost feel the anguish as you mount the stairs to her chambers at the top of the palace.  Held prisoner here, her embroidery box sits poignantly on a table, with the bible she used for her devotions.  Mary occupied these rooms from 1561 to 1567, and it was here that she witnessed the brutal murder of her secretary, David Rizzio. Married to Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley, at Holyrood in 1565, the following year Darnley was among those wielding a knife when Rizzio was stabbed 56 times.  ‘Cloak and dagger, furtive, covert, stealthy, concealed’- all are contained in the definition of Clandestine.

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The life of the Palace began much earlier, in 1128, when an Augustinian abbey was founded at the order of King David I of Scotland. The Holy Rood, or Black Rood, was a relic of the True Cross of Christ which had belonged to David’s mother, Queen Margaret.  The abbey guesthouse was used for royal visits, until construction of a palace began in 1501.  Whereas the palace has grown and endured over time, the Abbey was reduced to a ruin in 1544, when Holyrood was looted and burned.  Full restoration was never undertaken but the ruins are hauntingly beautiful.

I gazed out, through the grills, to the park where a captive Mary once practised her archery.  Today the monarch spends one week a year in residence at Holyrood Palace. How times have changed!  You can view some of the history here.

I have made only a very tenuous link to today’s Thursday’s Special.   As I explained to Paula, Traces of the Past might make a better home.  But I’m the impatient type and can’t wait until 6th October for the next edition.

Have a look at what Paula makes of Clandestine.