Coinciding with the dark story I’m reading, we're now in the hills again, passing through Penela to Castanheria with proper cycling again, exploring the countryside, enjoying the views and marvelling at the ancient engineering of the notable 'stone villages'. In this area of rural Portugal, we marvel too at the speed of a couple of farm dogs who spotted us on a climb, from their track, on the other side of a narrow valley. They shoot out from a standing start, like greyhounds from the trap and we're the lure that they'll chase until they catch us. Usually dogs will stop at the end of their farm track, but not these two. They hit the bend and pursue us uphill. It's the fastest I've ridden for awhile and Richard nobly has a stand-off with them while I get away and then resorts to his excellent missile throwing skills as their owner shouts feeble admonitions at them from the house. There are a few badly fenced in dogs around here and not just the pair of shep...
The mathematics of packing The trick is to reduce, to take just enough But it's a hard calculation to resolve with a list of what not to take. To learn from past excesses and error might b he answer. To make make things swallow other things whole, to tuck them away, round them down, square them away, to leave enough space to breathe. And so there's less to do. I'm ahead, I have time in hand. I will resist last minute adding and stick to the smallest number. Reduce, take away, subtract. (prompted by 'Burning the Old Year', by Naomi Shihab Nye) We're leaving a month later than last year, to avoid the colder weather we encountered in Northern Spain and Portugal last January. We've also had a lovely week of cycling and visiting family resident in Mallorca (not a van trip) so haven't bothered to unpack completely. The plan is to drive through France to Galicia, visit the parts of Portugal we missed; Porto, the Douro Valley, and at the end of week 6, leave t...
Spain again. We’re not really on a wine tour, but our next destination is Rioja territory. This is where the sun is, and we finally find a campsite again. This one is special, all the ingredients you want. Hot showers come first and...people! This is the first time we’ve been on a campsite with other people since Porto. Bizarrely some of the vans are British which is unusual. It’s the typical combination of permanent caravans for weekenders from other cities and a smaller area available for campervan passing through. This is Haro. A lovely little town, where every day it seems, but we hit Friday night, there’s a very civilised gastronomic bar-crawl which involves going from bar to bar, sampling the Pinchos, the local term for tapas and drinking wine. It’s delightful, probably because it's mostly middle-age people and some kids having a good night out, a family thing. We spend a good few days riding through the vineyard countryside in shorts. And after two visits to Bodegas...
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