We had a day off from cycling!!!! A whole day to explore Porto, and our knees kneeded -LOL – the break!
While we waited for our 9:30 tour with a local guide to start we were lucky enough to happen on a hardware store where John was relieved to find a bit that had gone missing from his bike. I blame the cobblestones. At any rate, problem solved.
Our guide’s recounting of the recent history of Porto (i.e. the explosion in tourism after RyanAir set up flights into Portugal in 2011, the terrible struggle Portugal had with its citizens’ heroin addictions, e.g. 1 percent of the population was addicted to heroin in the late nineties but they turned all of that around) was fascinating and inspiring.
There is a lot of construction going on in Porto right now, including in the beautiful Sao Bento train station. (Think 20,000 blue tiles lining the walls of the station.) We walked and walked, then finished the tour and went back to the apartment. The traffic and volume of tourists (were guilty) is insane.
After noon, we hit the streets again but this time on our own, to see the Livraria Lello (ranked as the third most unique book store in the world, but it’s also a madhouse with people…), Manteigarvia bakery for Portuguese custard tarts (for snacks the next day), and then we caught an hour of absolutely exquisite Fado, performed by a female and male singer, bass guitar and Portuguese 12 string guitar, savoured with a glass of port. I cannot even begin to tell you how very fine this music was.
Afterward we walked to the newly renovated market where you can buy a glass of wine, stroll the beautiful stands of sausages and cheeses, fruits, nuts, fish, and shop for dinner. So civilized.
Continuing on our “restaurants with ‘cod’ in the name theme” we ate a fabulous meal on the upper level of the market at Culto Bocalhao. I (Patti) had chick peas with cod, John had neck of cod with potatoes. All of it was sublime. We then rolled down the hill to the river, admired the full moon, found our apartment and went to bed. 16,800 steps on our day off from cycling. It was grand.
Hah! We missed a day or two. But here we are on the coast of Portugal, south of Porto. The biking day into Porto was incredible. Pouring rain, intense long inclines, trails through mud, crazy descents on very slippery cobblestones and rocks (see the video where Patti bumps her way down a disused Roman road that we finally found after a route suggested by Ride with GPS seemingly ended in a field) fog-obscured vistas, battery anxiety, and a very long extremely hilly entry into Porto. But – highly recommended!!!! It was like Portugal saved its very best for us for the last day to the Atlantic Ocean.
Our much-earned apartment in Porto was just what we needed. A lovely view of the Douro, with its beautiful Eiffel-designed bridge. We were soooo fortunate to be able to fold the trikes up and store them on the first floor landing of the building. Leaving them outside in a busy urban European scene is very worrying. We had a day off from cycling to enjoy the hills and back-alleys of Porto, and learned much from a walking tour guide. Portugal has a fascinating and long history and its recent tourism success is quite a story. If we remember, we’ll address that in our next entry.
Patti here: I think it took us until now (a few days later!) to recover from that adventure. It was fantastic and we laughed and cussed our way through it but… holy cow. That day was a challenge.
We left the RibaDouro in light drizzle and began a solid six km ascent. And then things got worse. Much much worse. Stopped to pull on rain gear. Put the rain capes on the trike seats and pushed onward. We knew we had 76 km in front of us and over 1300 metres of climb in skiddy conditions. Honestly, every little enclave of humanity has its dogs in fenced yards and those dogs – whether they’re big or small – absolutely hate the sound of our trikes. They send out the alarm: three wheeled intruders in our midst. Yeah yeah, but… whe. You aren’t certain that all of those dogs barking and growling are contained, it’s a little aggressive Hound of the Baskervilles in the eerie fog.
Our guaranteed all-paved route was not. LOL. So, we did some very muddy almost off road cycling through forests (“put ‘er in BOOST and give ‘er, John”). When we were approaching Porto we saw a LeClerc (our favourite grocery store from a trip to France with Sue and Mark and Glen and Birgit and Will and Anna) and John deked in to pick up cheese and wine (but couldn’t make his desire for a loo understood) and we pushed on, except it started to absolutely pour while I waited for him in the parking lot, guarding the bikes. Ah well. Swearing ensued on my part. People in cars driving by were shrugging their shoulders in sympathy.
The sun came out when we finally hit old town, Porto. But then John’s RH brake seized (John being John fixed it – see photo) AND if you have never experienced Porto traffic at 5 on a weekday when they are fixing every corner…. Wow.
Plus, a very handsome police officer stopped us when we hoped we could sneak the wrong way down a one way street, forcing us to add about 20 minutes to our ride. However, he WAS, as I mentioned, very handsome. Of course, by this time we had severe range anxiety – this trip really taxed the batteries’ and our limits.
Bottom line: We found the apartment, figured out codes, threw panniers in there, broke down and folded the trikes and stowed them in the lobby, showered, plugged in all necessary devices, walked three doors west to a place that had a very attractive menu, planted ourselves and enjoyed a spectacular meal.
An octopus made that happen.
The last thing we did was reserve spaces on a “locals walk” tour for first thing in the morning, and then , oh boy, did we sleep well.
What a great day. I have the best travelling companion. We can get through anything. (And we are happy, rain-induced, octopus fuelled prunes.)
enjoy the videos. Make sure to pull left or right to enjoy John’s GoPro.
More hills, incredible Douro valley views, steep cobblestones, road blocks, great food and wine, and barking dogs. Another lovely day along the Douro. Tomorrow is THE long hilly ride to Porto. I’ve been worried about this one. Wish us luck!
After leaving Spain we slogged through two days of cycling against a head wind and a cold front. Temperatures started about 6 deg C in the morning, and really didn’t improve much, and rain was always threatening. Our first refuge was in Sendim, in a hotel under reconstruction preparing to be a wedding reception destination. Not quite yet, though. A tent at the back of the property was serving lovely meals mostly for the construction crews. Never mind. The food and hospitality were fantastic.
We had no idea what was in store for the next day’s ride. A sheer drop of about 800 metres into the Douro River valley, with breathtaking views down abrupt dropoffs. We reached the river’s edge (well not quite – it was still 50 m below) at the train stop of Tua and found our lovely small hotel. All of the townspeople were engaged in a large outdoor memorial service (… party …) for a local restaurant owner who had died during COVID. Big fiesta. We checked in and changed clothes, and enjoyed some Douro wine (amazing) and a beef and fried egg concoction across the street. So good.
We then boarded the local train from Tua eastward to the end of the line at Pochino, about 45 minutes away, and back. The tracks hug the edge of the Douro, with steep cliffs both sides covered in vineyards. Spectacular. The entire train line actually starts in Porto and takes about 3-1/2 hours one-way. Large riverboats carry tourists back and forth. We were wonderfully entertained by a boisterous group partying and proudly singing traditional songs. They shared their wine and cheese with us. Such a fun group.
We had three route alternatives for the next day’s cycling, and the hotel staff recommended NOT taking our planned path because of the nasty inclines. We added about 8 km to the ride to smooth out the peaks and troughs and stay on asphalt. As it turned out, the climb out of the river valley was as expected – about 12 km of moderate incline, but the trip back down was WILD. A section of road was washed out requiring some fancy trike dragging around construction materials, and we white-knuckled very steep drops on twisty cobblestone surfaces. The views across deep valleys are impossible to properly describe. After returning to the Douro we had a fairly flat riverside 22 km ride to tonight’s town, Peso da Regua.
So far we’ve rode 1,130 kms, climbing 12,576 metres.
A couple of days of stuff here as we left Spain and ventured into Portugal. The 69.5 km ride was fairly uneventful, just more of that dratted headwind. When we crossed from Spain into Portugal, the only fuss was a Spanish sign – no Portuguese one! (See photo.) Obviously, the land all looked the same. The border is at the top of a ridge.
Miranda Do Douro is known as the “Grand Canyon of Portugal”, and rightly so. The balcony on our hotel room opened onto a spectacular vista: a dam to the right, and steep rockfaces to the left. We unloaded, and plugged in batteries (but not, sufficiently, as it turned out, because one battery was only at 60%!!! Not a worry because the next day’s ride was a shorty but a good cautionary note for future rides). A nap was required to recover from the exertion of that headwind ride, which we followed up with a visit to the bar where we sipped on hot camomile tea, caught up on blog posts and photo deletions, and savoured the gorgeous view.
Below us, a lost lamb bleated for its mother (and then found her). (See video.)
The specialty of this Douro region is Mirandesa cattle so that’s what we shared for dinner, complete with “Douro Mashed Potatoes” (see photo). We loved the view of the cathedral in Miranda Do Douro, and figured out when bed time should be because unbeknownst to us, there was a time change at the border, and now …. it was going to be an extra hour until bedtime!
The next morning, i.e. Thursday May 16, marked the first day of our THIRD week of cycling. The days are becoming a blur of fabulous memories. It was cold and windy again, with a forecast of rain, so we dressed appropriately, and before we hit the trail we walked into the old town of MDD. We were surprised by how wonderful the town was. We enjoyed a very moving artshow of photographs of beautiful, aged people, and sculptures of working people – farmers. There was a very informative museum where we could see firsthand the costumes of the shepherds (13 kg for those capes to keep them warm) and dancing/ethnic costumes. The Portuguese are (rightly so) proud of their music and dance culture.
We followed up these visits with a trip into the cathedral where we made a point of seeing the Christ in a Top Hat (see video) and then toddled back to the hotel, loaded the bikes, totted up our riding gear and hit the road. The highlight of the REALLY SHORT RIDE (23 km) was a visit with some Burros de Miranda. They have a decreasing population due to obsolescence (they’re no longer needed as beasts of burden) but they are noble, social creatures, and we were very touched by their sweetness. They LOVED John. (See photos. Check them out on Wikipedia!)
When we arrived here in Sendim we checked in, negotiated a larger room (the room assigned to us had a small double bed. Oh lordy, that ship sailed long ago.) We ate lunch with what looked like all of Sendim’s municipal works’ workers which reassured us that where we were eating had the best food in town. Post nap, we walked into town where we bought a folding knife (for our cheese picnics) from an inspiring older woman, walked back here to the hotel and now we’re listening to the pouring rain (!!!) and waiting for a salad and some octopus to arrive at our table.
Our ride from Toro to Zamora started with a treat: after a breakfast of Patti’s favorite treat, the Abuluelo cake filled with Nutella along with a fantastic coffee (see photo), we enjoyed a nice steep descent onto what would be a flat route of about 36 kilometres. Lots of stork nests on church roofs. Sometimes the parishioners have even built ‘cage supports’ to house the huge nests. The toughest part of this ‘easy’ day was the drop in temperature and unrelenting headwind.
Zamora is in the Castile and León region, so, prevalent is that Castilian soft ‘s’. (Think lisp.)
Toro is known for its fine vineyards, and we enjoyed a lovely Toro vintage this evening. The vineyards quickly changed to vegetable crops though during the ride to Zamora.
The ancient bridge we had planned to cross into the city was closed due to construction but this worked in our favour because we had a few kilometres to ride to get to the next bridge, admiring the beauty of the hilled city across the Rio Duero (it becomes the Douro River in Portugal) (and both the Duero and Douro regions yield beautiful wines). The route along the river was gorgeous. Manicured hedges, pedestrian walkways, gardens. Every day we are amazed by how the Europeans’ approach to urban design puts us Torontonians to shame.
We crossed the river on a new bridge, following a perfectly separated bike lane. We followed another beautiful cycling path into the old town, and then some windy, rabbit warren-y roads up, up, up to the plaza (square) where our hotel was. The square was filled with the ubiquitous Spanish Plane Trees, each one’s branches somehow grafted to the next, creating a network of green above, and interesting shadows, below. (See photo.)
We were happy to be allowed to put the bikes in the hotel’s very fancy indoor garage. When we came down the next morning, it was keeping company with a bunch of shiny motorcycles and a very posh British (I think) car. (See photo.)
We plugged in various charging devices, then hit the old town in search of a something hot to eat, to warm us up. Tapas – pulpo, calamari and deep fried pork rinds- filled the bill. A bit of window shopping (a pity, because it is a very tasteful city, as are its inhabitants!!!) and then promptly at 2 the city closed down for siesta – churches and museums included – so we headed back to the hotel, caught up on travel blog posts and photo deleting. The break was well timed because it absolutely poured while we were in our room!
When the rain had ended and siesta was over, we walked the city some more, heading down to the river, visiting an architecturally beautiful Museo de Zamora (built into a rock cliff) along the way. Trudging back up into the old city we saw an open door to an old church. What a surprise! The church is used as storage for the Semana Santa (holy week) parade floats (“tronos”). Each float features a beautifully rendered life-size depiction of an Easter scene, and each weighs about 3,000 kg. Each float is carried by 44 men, all crouched under the float in very close quarters, bearing the weight on wood beams wrapped in rags to cushion their poor shoulders! Most cities in Spain host a series of Semana Santa processions complete with these tronos, and “Nazarenos” (members of brotherhoods – “cofradias” – dating back to the Middle Ages, all wearing colourful capes and huge hooded cones on their heads to indicate their penitence for the sins of their forefathers during the Spanish Inquisition, and their own sins of the past year. (See photo of the Nazarenos sculpture, and of the baked figures in bakeries.)
We also noticed the familiar Camino symbol – the yellow scallop shell on a blue background – on an albergue door and were surprised to discover that there is a Camino Zamarano Portugues which runs 98 to Zamoro and then continues 184 more very strenuous and mostly unsupported kilometres to arrive in Santiago with the rest of the pilgrims travelling their various routes. This is a camino that is not for the faint of heart.
We picked up some local sheep’s cheese and bread and wine on our walk back to the hotel, placed an order with the front desk for a huge salad from the hotel’s fancy restaurant (room service) and, basically after hoovering that meal, called it a night.
Vallodalid was a real pleasure. We left in the morning and cycled against a relentless west wind for about 70 kms. Whew!!! Very flat and fertile farms, well irrigated with machinery, a few gently rolling hills, lots of beautiful red poppies, but that wind. Relentless!
We climbed a few hills towards the end and entered the Reora and Toro wine regions. All of a sudden grape vines reappeared, with their accompanying bodegas. A final climb put us into the town of Toro. We stopped briefly to pick up some potato chips, a Spanish version of Cheezies (cycling cravings) and some wine. We checked into our hotel, the Palazio Rejadorada – a beautifully restored 13th Century palace – stowed the bikes in a courtyard within the enclave, plugged in all of the assorted batteries, and waited out some late afternoon rain. Half a block up the street was the local bar/restaurant (cafeteria) where we enjoyed hamburgers (more cycling cravings) and then we watched a football (soccer) match between Barcelona and the Basque national team that plays out of San Sebastian. Needless to say that although we are now in the Castile y Leon region, the locals in the bar were fans of the Basque team and were happy to explain the rivalries to us in Spanish that neither of us understood…
Half an hour later we walked back to the hotel. The rain and wind had stopped and wow! What a rainbow!!!! We made sure the bikes were OK for a wet night, and hit the sack (in our modest palace bedroom, LOL), looking forward to our short (35km) ride to Zamora.
Ahhh! This is a beautiful city. It once rivalled Madrid as the dominant centre of Spain, but a French invasion a few hundred years ago destroyed much of the infrastructure, including severely damaging its massive cathedral.
Our takeaways from Valladolid are: its huge and numerous large open space plazas, all with NO cars, incredibly neat and tidy everywhere, impeccable new transit vehicles, very cool Sunday evening plaza concerts with hundreds of city-provided chairs, everyone eating ice cream cones at 6 pm, (before dinner), grandparents with grandkids everywhere, just a great feeling everywhere we strolled.
We stopped at about 8pm for dinner, which was eggs and pulpos (octopus) for John, and four different tapas for Patti.
Then – an ICE CREAM for John. So good. The concert in the Plaza Mayor featured a pipe and drum band with costumed dancers. Beautiful. The snare drummer at the centre of the band was probably about eight years old, and he was right on the money. The traditional dancers were lovely to watch. A bit later, the concert became more of a EuroVision scene. Hmmmm. Not our bread basket, but the very young dancers on stage were having a good time. These were shows for the citizens of Vallodolid, they weren’t shows for tourists. The city has many plazas for socializing, many parks, many art galleries and public sculptures.
We’re seeing octopus in the menu more frequently. I – Patti – am excited about that!
Here’s a video of our stroll though downtown Valladolid on Sunday night, followed by a couple of clips leaving Valladolid in the morning and a small town along our way. Tonight we’re in Toro, Spain, a location of one of the largest bullfight rings in Castillo-Leon. Ummmm – we’ll pass.
The final photo is from our hotel room last night, right across the street from the cathedral. Nice, corporate hotel with a typically disappointing, ridiculously expensive, corporate breakfast. If you’re travelling in Spain, those small, privately owned hotels are the way to go. The food is spectacular. dinners AND breakfasts.
Also: We may or may not have been partaking of some of the wines on the map to follow.
We’ve just finished our second day of biking after leaving Burgos and we’re combining two days’ worth of posts into one because, honestly, the past two days have really just been about getting through the miles.
The terrain is much flatter now, with distant hills that resemble the mesas of Arizona. The zone we’re traversing is an industrial and agricultural area. Not particularly charming or beautiful. Huge car factories (see the Michelin photo below) and large irrigated crop fields (of what, we’re not sure) dominate. The lovely old tiny villages seem to be fewer and farther apart. We’re just pushing through this section of Spain with our eyes on Portugal.
We’ve been cycling on an assortment of dirt roads between farm fields, along the old Castilla Canal road, between huge factories, through new residential neighbourhoods, and along a long bike path entering the prominent city of Vallodalid. Vallodalid was at one point the contender to be the capital of Spain against Madrid, but an invasion by the French a few hundred years ago destroyed much of the city. We’ll go out tonight and explore the Centro and munch on some more tapas.
The video here is a small taste of our rides the last couple of days. Nothing impressive – just getting across Spain. (Lots of miles, though, in very dry heat and intense sunshine.)
Here’s our ride from two days ago when we were leaving Burgos. We stayed in a lovely little B&B in a very small village. The best part was discussing our route for the following day with the bartender. He spoke no English, I spoke minimal Spanish, but luckily for us he set us straight and probably saved us about 15 kms of riding and a few ridiculous climbs. Our original route would have been a disaster. Muchas Gracias!!!! And the diminutive chef at that hotel – all 4’10” of her – presented spectacular meals that evening.
Today’s ride into Vallodalid. A long one at 80kms, but quite flat.
Here’s where we are now, in Vallodalid. We’re about three days from Portugal.
Here’s the view from our balcony in Vallodalid. Lots of street chatter and no car noise.
What a fantastic city. We rode about 40 km and began our approach to Burgos proper with a 5km long beautiful bike path following the Arlanzón river. The river bisects the city, with the old areas to the north, and the more recent builds to the south. We entered from the north-eastern suburbs and had a thirty minute ride, sharing the path with many riders and walkers as the architecture became older and older. I think that our day in Burgos will be the last time that our paths intersect with the Camino walkers. We have seen many pairs of abandoned shoes along the way. I imagine that feet are getting very sore by now.
Our day was, once again, brilliantly sunny and dry. We couldn’t ask for better weather.
We finally found our hotel, locked up our trikes, and changed into walking clothes. The huge Burgos Catedral dominates the north side of the river. Before touring, we needed a sandwich and a beer, and the tapas bars in the plaza are numerous. Cheese for me, and tuna and anchovies for Patti. Yum. The cathedral is immense, one of the largest in Europe. We did have a little bit of culture shock: we’ve been hanging out in very small Spanish towns, sparsely populated. Burgos on a Friday afternoon and evening is very very popular, and most of the participants are the citizens of Burgos!
After the cathedral we walked through Plaza Mayor to see the famous statue of Spain’s hero, El Cid. We wanted to visit the Museo de Burgas, but got foiled by the 3pm to 6pm siesta time. Everything closes. So – back to the hotel to check in (our room was now ready) and clean up after the hot cycling.
We ventured out again in a couple of hours and thoroughly enjoyed the Friday evening bustle. Burgos was hosting a flower festival, so the streets were filled with folks looking at the various art installations. We found the narrow, crowded, tapas neighborhood and funky squares (plazas) and sampled a few treats. So good. We were impressed with the number of three-generation family groups wandering the streets. Grandparents, parents and grandkids, all having a great time.
