Baiona came as a rather wonderful surprise to me. We had already been travelling for much of the day and it was late afternoon as our coach swept around the huge bay of Vigo and came to a standstill below Monterreal castle. The estuary is a natural environment and a paradise for bird watchers and nature lovers. Sadly for us, we had but a brief stop here. Just time enough to follow the route around the fortress walls and look out towards the Cíes Islands, a destination for much later in our trip.
Out in the bay you can see the replica of La Pinta, one of Columbus’ ships, which was said to have made land first in Baiona on its return from the New World in 1493, having discovered America. A little incongruous alongside the superyachts.
This granite fortress sits on the Monte Boi peninsula. Though the castle dates from the 12th century, remains have been found on the site from as early as the 2nd century BC. Celts, Phoenicians, Romans, Visigoths and Muslims all have left their mark.
Today, among other things, it’s a jump off point for the lovely islands that lie offshore. If you’re really lucky you can stay in the parador and overlook this whole panorama. And maybe wander the streets of the historical quarter in the evening, appreciating the fine food on offer. The more energetic can climb to the heights of the Virgin of the Rock, or start their Camino to Santiago de Compostela. Me, I only had time to enjoy the wonderful view.
And then, you’ve guessed it, back on the coach to our final destination of the day- a place called O Grove, with its causeway across to A Toxa. That’s where I’ll be taking you on Monday. Enjoy your weekend!
Let’s start gently. Over 4 days we had a packed schedule, travelling north to Monção at the border with Spain and on up the Spanish coast into Galicia. The itinerary included walking a short stretch of the Camino, culminating in Santiago de Compostela, and a visit to the Ilhas de Cíes, of which I had never heard, but which I will never forget. We were travelling with the small and friendly Portuguese company, Caminhada Smile and, believe me, we did!
First though, we picked up a local guide in Valença do Minho- a delightful young woman called Ines, who was to escort us on our many excursions. In retrospect I was a little sad not to have seen more of Valença itself, for it has a fine historic quarter with a bridge across to Tui, on the Spanish side, but time was scarce and we headed straight to much quieter and more sedate Monção. Not that there’s anything wrong with sedate when the sun beams down on the wide expanse of river and tourists are few. Our little group of 16 attracted curious looks from the locals- always a good sign.
Our primary reason for being there was a lunch stop at the improbably named Cuckoo restaurant. Irrespective of the name, I have to say that it was probably the best Portuguese meal with a group that I have experienced in many years. The Carne a Portuguesa was superb! (cubes of delicious pork with roast potatoes and a smattering of pickled vegetables). Suffice it to say that, when it came to dessert, I only had room for melon. A most unusual occurrence.
But first, of course, we needed a walk. Not a long walk, because it was hot, and we were hungry, having been on the coach from Lisbon since early morning. Ines led us through the town to the fortress walls, high above the Minho. A boardwalk stretched down to the river and continued for some distance along its banks.
We idled down the boardwalk, looking up at the fortress and seeking shade from the overhanging trees.
An archway with a touch of humour provided an alternative route.
And then, stomachs full, we were back on the coach for the short journey to the Palácio da Brejoeira. Primarily a wine estate of 18 hectares, the palace dates from the early 19th century and has been classified as a National Monument since 1910. Their renowned product is Alvarinho wine and the guided tour includes a tasting.
The building is majestic in scale and the interior celebrates azulejos in all their glory.
We followed the guide silently, inspecting the many treasures with awe. My gaze strayed to the shuttered windows and beyond, to the carefully maintained lawn with its guardian trees.
Then we were led to the rear of the house, where we wandered in the unhurried shade of ancient trees. The heat filtered through scarcely rustling leaves. A duet of swans sprayed the fountain vigorously, startling in the silence.
It was a lovely spot and I could have lingered, smelling the roses, but we were moving on to the dimness of the wine caves. By contrast the vineyards shimmered in sunlight, and we were soon back to the house for the wine tasting.
On the coach once more, and onwards to the coast, the scenery lush and very different from my Algarve hills. I loved the mountain backdrop and the villages with stone grain stores. We were heading for Baiona and the day was far from over, but I’ll save that for next time.
Meanwhile we’ll share some walks. Thanks, everybody!
Isn’t New Zealand a beautiful place? Karen takes us hunting :
I’ll hopefully be back on Thursday with beautiful Baiona. Otherwise I’ll still be writing about this trip at Christmas (just a tiny exaggeration). Look forward to seeing you then. Take good care!
I’m continuing the watery theme this week. The River Aire runs through Leeds city centre, and joins with the Leeds-Liverpool canal, so there’s plenty of opportunity for water gazing, which I love to do. The character of the canal changes with its surroundings. On the one hand you have the old warehouses, used to store goods in Leeds industrial heyday. Most now have been converted into a smarter version of themselves, to complement the new builds and high rise that are part of any modern city. But you don’t have to wander too far in either direction to experience calm and quiet, and nature reclaiming her own.
Remnants of railway history linger, even as the city expands and develops. It seems there’s no end to the accommodation needed but, in its own way, Leeds is trying to include its past. The High Line, still in its infancy but modelled on that in New York, blends towers and tunnels from the railway era with grasses and just a little designer chic. While the smart, new trains trundle past.
The swans were a little way distant, but a bold squirrel gave me a knowing look and, overhead, blossom and berries dangled.
At Granary Wharf, close by the railway station, there are always narrowboats to provide diversion. It’s grim up north? Not always!
The canal joins the river and flows gently beneath bridges along to the Royal Armouries. On Bank Holidays, and throughout the summer break, a free entertainment programme takes place. Fun for all!
As evening falls, Leeds takes on a different character altogether. Lively bars and innovative new restaurants open their doors. And around the High Line an air of mystery develops. The former railway towers and tunnels feel like something from the Twilight Zone.
I could never live there but, if you set aside the shopping malls, Leeds isn’t such a bad place to roam. And, occasionally, there’s cake!
With a delicious chocolate topping
But there are always walks to share:
I’ve really enjoyed looking at Hoi An with Teresa :
That’s it from Leeds, for a little while. The son’s house has been knocked apart and reassembled, hopefully without the damp issues and with a smart new kitchen. I’ve been back in the Algarve for a few weeks, but I’m about to travel north into Spain. I might manage to squeeze a medley in before I go but, more likely, I’ll be back in 2 weeks with a walk. Take good care till then!
Once again, I’m having fun. Will you indulge me? I fell in love with Teagan’s improbable cat pose and then Robbie’s Kit Cat Club came along. Are you following Dan’s Thursday Doors Writing Challenge? Or better yet, taking part? I am.
I knew that part of our weekend in England would be taken up with DIY. It was more challenging than we expected, and it certainly filled a rainy day. As a reward, or simply a bit of light relief, my son dutifully Googled ‘bluebell woods’ when I expressed a desire to see some. He came up with 3 options- Ilkley, where he works part of the week, the woods at Kirkstall in Leeds, and my hot favourite, the Yorkshire Sculpture Park. It’s a number of years since I’ve been to YSP and it was the perfect time of year for rhododendrons. But life is often about compromise. Ilkley was hosting a show and would be crowded. The grandson wanted to meet some mates in the afternoon, and the new hybrid car needed charging so, nearby Kirkstall it was. I’ll have to rely on Margaret to visit YSP for me? With the car on charge at the shopping mall, we were off in search of bluebells….
(There are captions on the photos if you open the galleries)
I’m not hard to please. Take me to water and let me gaze. The towpath was Bank Holiday Monday busy with joggers and dogwalkers, but pleasantly so. Who could blame them for enjoying the dry weather? Across the field, trains rushed up and down the tracks but, close at hand, the swan glided serenely among the reeds.
No wonder the boatman was smiling. Such a nice way to see the world. Unless, of course, you’re a novice at locks. We came upon one unfortunate couple who had attracted quite an audience. The water didn’t appear to be going where they wanted it. Their young Great Dane was tethered to a lock gate, bemused by the whole process. My daughter-in-law gave him a cuddle.
It was a happy scene, with families picnicking and dogs splashing gleefully in the water. On the far shore we could catch glimpses of a bluebell haze, in the woods. Eventually we crossed the lock and headed into them.
I’ll not pretend that they’re the best bluebell woods in the world, nor that these are great photos. In my head the woods were a haze of blue, but the reality doesn’t quite live up to the vision. Yet the sunlight dancing through that woodland trail gladdened my heart. What’s better than spending time with those you love?
A soft blue carpet
The canal idled beside us, bluebells and wild garlic mingling at our feet. And, on the water, a female swan guarded the nest, while her mate kept watch, close by.
We crossed back over the canal and I spotted a nice looking pub, with tables overlooking the water. I’ve bookmarked it for a future trip.
The funniest thing! When we got back ‘home’, I observed that James’ garden was full of bluebells, as were many of the neighbours. And a rather wonderful lilac dangled over the fence.
No cake this week! I was extremely virtuous, in that respect, during my stay in Leeds. I’ve made up for it since I came back. Meanwhile, let’s share some walks. Thanks, everyone!
Jude meanders peacefully beside the River Frome, in Dorchester :
Our recent trip to the Azores was bookended by a night in Lisbon, before flying from that airport. It’s a city that I love, in small doses. A morning by the Rio Tejo was just enough to enjoy a little culture and a breath of ocean air. I had it in mind to visit MAAT, a former electricity generating power station turned Art Gallery.
We caught the bus out to Belém -always an interesting ride- crossed the road and we could see the Tejo at the end of the street. At this point in its journey it is a mighty river, having dawdled its way across Portugal.
The museum is in two parts- a new modern art gallery and the original generating plant. Intriguingly the path climbs up over the modern part and back down to the riverside, creating some wonderful vistas.
It feels so different by the water, away from the heart of the bustling city. And then we ventured inside.
It’s a huge space, my favourite piece being something that looks like stacking shelves in a library but, in close up, consists of blocks of wood, stapled across the surface. Leaving the art gallery you walk to the adjoining building and enter via the former coal yard. Coal was delivered by boat and offloaded here, to power the immense machinery.
And now to the technical part. This thermoelectric power station was active from 1909 to 1972 and guaranteed the supply of electricity to the greater Lisbon area. Inside, the boilers, condensers and turbogenerators are preserved in their original condition. It’s an overwhelming experience, tamed to suit the purposes of a museum.
It’s an impressive building and wonderful to see it preserved. My husband used to work in the industry and for him they were everyday sights, but I admit to being a little overawed.
I’m back in the Algarve now, contemplating the next adventure. Meanwhile, I have some catching up to do and a few shares from my brief time in England. It was mostly DIY, and I know you don’t want to see that, but there were some golden moments with family. And lots of bluebells! Next week. Take care till then xx
Oh, my God, I’ve forgotten something! No wonder my head hurts. Do you suppose anyone’s noticed? I was in such a rush to get to the launderette after breakfast, I took a wrong turning and ended up in this art gallery. If I stand very still maybe they’ll walk right past. Think I’m an exhibit, modern stuff. Hang on- no-one’s looking. If I could just slip a towel out of this bag I’d be decent in two seconds. That eyeball is a bit unnerving. It’s seen right through me. I need to play it cool. Nonchalant, like this is perfectly normal. Everyone should have a body like this.
I can’t keep on standing here. I’m going to be late for work. I can’t phone in sick again. They’ll know the stress is getting to me. Wonder which way the toilet is? Maybe I can just shuffle discreetly, between these pillars. I’d look silly if I ran. Oh-oh, a woman’s just come in and she’s staring at me. No, please don’t touch, madam. I’m ticklish there. This tan is all my own you know. Not out of a bottle. Lord, I think I’m going to sneeze. That would give the game away. Thank heavens, she seems taken with that horse. Now’s my chance. Three strides and I’m out of here. What a start to my day!
Something a little different. I really loved the above photo and enjoyed playing with it. Many thanks to Maureen for the inspiration. Have you been following Dan’s Thursday Doors Writing Challenge? There are some great entries.
In idle moments, travelling, I thought about Dan’s Thursday Doors Writing Challenge. The little poem above seemed to relate well to the tradition of Impérioson the island of Terceira in the Azores. I’m home again now, and it’s all a distant, but lovely, memory.
Reluctantly, I returned from the Azores. Walking season was in full swing here in the Algarve, with Easter just around the corner. It seems so long ago now, doesn’t it? I was soon back in my stride, stories told and injuries, minor. For me, it’s the best time of year to walk. There’s a freshness to everything and you gaze in wonder at the beauty that surrounds you. In the hills the wild flowers tumble over each other, a joyful riot of colour.
There’s a walk that’s an old favourite of mine, at Laranjeira, yet even it can yield surprises. But first, a rest, at the top of the hill.
Small farmsteads are scattered throughout the hills, and it’s common enough to see sheep and goats, often more nimble than we are. We did get a surprise, though, when one adventurous youngster left Mum and came gambolling over to be petted.
Mum, of course, was not impressed by this wanton behaviour, but we were thrilled and the youngster not at all abashed. On we strolled, to our lunch date by the river, with views out to the surrounding hills.
And still the flowers continued to tumble, exuberant and lovely.
Maybe I should apologise for bombarding you with flowers but, when it comes to springtime, it’s hard to resist. How about a few scarecrows instead? Paper flowers don’t count, do they?
Through the archway there were stalls, cookery demonstrations and music. No getting away from flowers this month though. At São Bras the ground was strewn with petals in the inimitable Festa das Torchas Floridas. When I’m in the Algarve at Easter I never miss it.
At first people tread carefully around the artfully created and symbolic patterns, stooping to admire and taking photos.
But as the procession gets underway the petals and lavender are trodden underfoot, releasing a beautiful fragrance.
No matter how many times I’ve witnessed it, I’m always awed by the work and enthusiasm that goes into this event. Fabulous, isn’t it? But I’m ending this medley with another walk. The village of Odeleite makes a beautiful backdrop.
A nonchalant cake crept in. Nothing to do with me. I don’t like Banoffee Pie.
But I’m always happy to share a walk or two, and I’ve got into the habit of joining Natalie’s Monthly Wrap-Up. The lady gets everywhere!
This weekend saw International T’ai Chi Day, clashing with Freedom Day (Dia da Liberdade), traditionally 25th April. Red carnations are used to symbolise freedom here and are displayed everywhere. Next weekend I’ll be back in the UK for a few days so I’ll not be walking with you, but take good care of yourselves and we’ll catch up soon.
Our third day was still grey, though I watched the bay hopefully for a break in the clouds at breakfast time. But we had a plan. We were off to the western side of the island, keeping an eye open for more Impérios. We could see the first village, São Mateus de Calheta, just around the bay from Angra, the church towering into the sky. The scaffolding detracted a little, but we ventured inside, where all was peaceful. On the shoreline, fishing nets had been made by hand.
(my photos all have captions but you may not be able to see them if viewing on a phone)
It was still early in the day and we didn’t linger, carrying on up the coast to Nossa Senhora da Pilar and Santa Barbara for more Impérios. It’s a very rural island, the main commodity being dairy produce.
We were keen to get started on our first walk of the day, at Lagoinha da Serrata- a small lake at the top of a hill. Alarm bells should have sounded when Michael said that it was ‘just up the hill and then down again’. I’m a tough old boot, but I have to admit that this one was my nemesis. I started off, cheerfully, into the dense woodland, but soon we were scrambling over tree roots and ducking beneath fallen branches, surrounded by primordial jungle.
Awe at the gigantic ferns, clinging moss and towering trees gave way to weariness as we trudged, ever upwards.
At intervals battens had been hammered in to create steps, but these were unevenly spaced and very hard on the legs. We seemed to have been climbing for an inordinately long time before the path evened out, and we came upon a sign saying Lagoinha 2.7km. Still! Nothing to do but continue upwards. It was almost vertical and there were a few precarious planks crossing narrow gullies. My balance really isn’t good these days, and at some point I tired of the perpetual struggle to haul myself up. I really didn’t need to see this lake that much, and the further we went up, the terrifying (to me) prospect of coming down again increased. At a particularly awkward gully I stopped, and Michael continued upwards, determined to complete the job for me. ‘Stay there!’ he commanded but, as soon as he was out of sight, I very gingerly began to make my way back down, clinging to any friendly shrub that offered support. Came the point where I simply could not cross another gully, and I was contemplating sitting down and shuffling across when Michael reappeared. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. I just needed a steadying hand.
Suffice to say, the descent from then on was a little easier. To my mortification, a family with a young girl, about 7, were coming back down from the heights and I shuffled to one side to let them pass. Back on ‘terra firma’, there were still hazards as part of the trail had fallen into the valley far below. Avoidance action, beneath a barbed wire fence and across a field, and we were almost back on track. Until I took a tumble! Nothing serious, just broken nails and a drop of blood, but you can imagine that I gave heartfelt thanks when we finally reached the bottom and plodded back to the car. That little adventure had taken 4 hours or more out of our day.
Tired and hungry, we needed to salvage the rest of our day. It was already 2.30 when we set off for Biscoitos, our planned lunchtime stop. The scenic coastal route was closed- roadworks or a land slippage, I’m not sure which- so we took an inland route, missed the turn-off for Biscoitos and ended up in the tiny village of Quatro Ribeiras. After a quick look at the Império, we dived into the only cafe we could see. Lunch turned out to be a donut for Michael and a chocolate muffin for me. The kitchen was still under construction and there was just a handful of cakes on the counter of the bar. The lady of the house was very welcoming, and apologetic at the lack of food, but we were highly delighted when her young son arrived back from school, with Dad. Very shyly, he was persuaded to present us each with a miniature chocolate Easter egg. Ample compensation, we felt. And then something else lovely occurred.
A rugged path led down to one of the volcanic coves and I wanted to follow it. Imagine my pleasure when, 50 metres in, we came upon this extravagant mural, stretching down towards the shore. Isn’t it joyful? Festivals involve the whole village.
There was quite a steep drop to the gravel beach and we knew our tired legs couldn’t cope with the return. The lane was full of white lilies and golden nasturtiums, so we admired the views, then drove on to the village of Agualva, where we found a much easier walk.
It was a short walk to a waterfall, alongside a stream, with gabions holding back the hillside. The shallow falls rippled downstream through the village, and were surrounded by foliage and flowers.
We followed the stream gently uphill until we could hear the sound of the waterfall. A short climb and there it was. We listened a while, then retraced our steps. I was surprised to notice a small plot, full of bananas, close to the watermill.
Quite a day! A 20 minute drive and we were back in Angra, for one last night. We had thoroughly enjoyed Terceira, and I hope you did too. Apologies for the long post but I wanted to end the adventure here. No cake photos but you can imagine a chocolate muffin, and there are healthy bananas instead.
Just a few walks to share :
Sarah doesn’t do well in the heat, but there are always temples to visit and things to learn :
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