Travels in the Van 2023: Week four

Saturday 4th of February

It's time to meet Sam on his 35th birthday in Portimão Marina. I was brought up sailing, although I don't think I've been on a yacht since 2012. This one is bigger and broader in the beam than I'm used to and the layout is very comfortable. It feels more luxurious and spacious than the van. I've been wondering how this will go. Sam’s the skipper and needs to take charge of us all, Daniela his feisty girlfriend and his (insert your own adjective) parents.
We start with a safety briefing and then deck skills. Richard plays the disruptor and I play teachers pet. Daniela does all the knots and rope skills perfectly. The aim of this first short sail is to leave and return to the mooring without hitting anything, with all crew members still on board, and to drop the anchor (it's just been refurbished by the owners) to test it out. There's not much wind so we’ll be happy with nailing these basic manoeuvres.

We've all listened well, work well as a team and head out, without a hitch - lines and fenders stowed, into the Atlantic.

It's a bit more breezy out of port and the captain declares that we’ll raise the mainsail and cut the engine. But we can still go faster than this, so we raise the gib too. It's great to be out on the sea again and brings back so many memories, of Lynn, of holidays in Ireland, of being a teenager. On the way back in we drop anchor just inside the port entrance and eat birthday lemon tart that Daniela has made, which travelled with out mishap all the way from Paris.
Sam has passed his ordeal by parent crew with flying colours. I'm particularly impressed with the ‘reversing into the berth’ procedure. Outwardly he's as cool as a cucumber, but as we all high-five, once he's satisfied with the mooring lines, he breathes a sigh of relief and the maiden voyage is declared a success. I'm so pleased for us all.

A tale of two restaurants and Portuguese taxi drivers.

We have a table booked at O Charneco, a restaurant that Sam is been to before. It's in Estombar, which is a short Uber ride away. Our driver is Paula, chatty 50-year-old who is proud of her work ethic, she has two jobs it seems, has worked all her life and has no time for the workshy, whether they have addiction problems or not, like the two who are always begging at the petrol station we stopped at on the way. She regales us with stories and the one that sticks most with me is that the derelict sardine factory where chimneys must remain because the storks nests are protected. There's another about storks causing a power cut in the region 30 years ago, an unscrupulous employer where she worked nights in a bakery in her 20s. We are the first to arrive at O Charneco, a small restaurant in a corner of cobbled streets. The interior is cosy and intimate and we have the pick of the tables. All around the drawings and photos of the Patron it seems, a larger than life figure. The staff look like family, the oldest, about 40 must be a brother or son and two young lads serving us are charming. The menu is a set one, seven courses at €35 per head including wine. The food is traditional Portuguese and delicious. But typically we don't pace ourselves and by the end are gorged. The eldest of the boys describes the food and tells us about the liquor called Medronho, that is double distilled from the fruit of the Arbutus tree in Montichique by relative in his garage. It comes in two varieties, hard and sweet. Hard, like schnapps and sweet, a bit like mead. He sees us out of the door at the end, and once outside, tells us that the Patron is his grandfather, who is now housebound next door and doesn't recognise them anymore but has the cat at our feet for company. The family is carrying on the tradition he set. The cat accompanies us down the street, Where Kristina, the second female Uber driver, picks us up. On the ride back Daniela is telling us of her travels; her time in Brisbane and New York, as well as studies in Hamburg and London. She works in Paris now. In a lull in the conversation Kristina says “I’ve lived in Brisbane” and tells us her story. She is from Brazil, has lived in Australia and Italy and now here in Portimão where they have family, with her parents from Brazil. “What took you to Australia?” we ask. “Divorce” she replies with a laugh. She is glad to have left Brazil and sees a less volatile feature here.
We've been well looked after all evening and appreciate this insight into these lives.

Sunday 5th February

The following day we sail to Benagil caves along the coast. We make good progress there, but hopes of a sheltered anchorage for lunch are dashed by a rolling swell which puts us off lunch altogether. Back in the marina we recover in time for the finale of Happy Valley and all sleep well.

Monday 6th of February

It's Richard's birthday today. Sam and Daniela head for the mountains in search of Medronho, before her flight back, and Richard and I head to Silves by bike for lunch. We cycle on a track through vineyards along the river in the footsteps of the Romans, the peace only disturbed by the squealing from my front disc break and the rhythmic grind from Richards back wheel. Silves and Lagoa are well worth the ride. We stop twice for coffee and then lunch. The bikes have taken a hammering the last few weeks and are full of grit and sand, so we take a detour to the best bike shop in the region and drop them off for some TLC. As we cycle through we come across the now legendary sardine factory chimneys, new development springing up all around - the storks of Ferragudo totally totally disinterested in ‘progress’.

Ferragudo is also where the second birthday meal of the week is at Borda do Cais, a fish restaurant (another one of Sam’s haunts) right on this little fishing port’s quay. During high season the five waiters, four kitchen staff and fish chef would be run off their feet. Tonight they are overattentive but old-school amiable and quite funny, topping up our wine and water maybe a dozen times. The fish, a large snapper shared between the three of us, is expertly boned at the table and delicious, as is the Algarveian desert of almonds, carob and figs, washed down with tawny port.

Tuesday 7th of February

We’ve eaten enough for a week and it's only Tuesday. The three of us are relieved that there's only a slight breeze today is on sale, which means a proper rest day. A walk for me, a run for Rich, a swim for Sam, a relaxed lunch and writing in the sun.

Wednesday 8th of February

There's something about sailing that wipes you out. We take Bonito V out again and even though most of the sail hoisting and trimming can be done from the cockpit, we are missing Daniela, and are now a crew of three. The winching is tough but the results thrilling. Later we eat on board before I crash out and sleep well

Thursday 9th of February

It's cleaning day, ready for tomorrow’s early goodbyes. We've noticed a self service car wash on our travels and head there. They've got a tall gantry for cleaning vans and boats. It’s cheap fun, getting into all the nooks and crannies.

Sparkly and new again, we head back to the marina, have a quick ride along the headland and back, ready for barefoot deck scrubbing. The wind has got up as forecast and we're accompanied by the most ethereal symphony from all the masts and halyards which have become musical instruments. It's an eerie siren call, swirling around the marina. We're all shipshape sooner than we think and head into old Portimão for our last evening.

Sam’s been here quite a bit, learning to sail and at New Year a year ago, seeing his friends Johnny and Stefan off on a bonkers row across the Atlantic. The ‘forget-me-knot’ voyage raised money for Alzheimer's research in memory of Johnny’s dad. They’d never rowed before!!

Sam is our family foodie so we do an impromptu walking food tour, stopping at the kiosk on the waterfront for a beer, where the patron still remember Stefan. Then on to a fish bar where I taste my first oysters (I know!) and Sam and I try lucifer’s fingers which are apparently the most dangerous to find barnacles. Both are light and refreshing. We continue on cobbled, half derelict streets now, looking at the old buildings and fading tiled facades. Much of Portugal is undeveloped, some decaying and we discuss how development might spoil its charm. We arrive at a celebrated Peri-Peri chicken place. It's a canteen at the bottom of the tower block. It's simple, brightly lit and busy - sit-in and takeaway. We say yes to everything the waiter suggests and have a feast of spicy chicken, delicious fries with mayonnaise, a fresh salad, bread and olives and wine. We choose from traditional desserts for afters.