DAY 1: Tuesday 9th May
Cork to Faro
We woke to a lovely day in Cork and spirits were good because we were on the way.
Bikes were prepared at home for the flight and all the crew assembled in Cork Airport at 3pm for 5pm flight.
You get some dodgy looks when your holding a bike with one wheel, but that would not deter us from our well planned mission.
Day 1 pictures...
(For cyclists, the info in the technical section on transporting bikes might be useful)
Hiccup1
The check in lady instructed us to let the air out of the tyres as they would explode in mid-air. We thought we were sorted (Tim and Chris experts) but as we didn't have a decent pump between us, a mercy dash by Tim's wife Ber got us a pump.The bikes and bags were sent to the plane but Tim had to get his pump through security. Very hard to explain why you need to carry a pump with you on a flight!!
The flight itself was uneventful and spirits were raised when our bikes were delivered undamaged to us in Faro.
Hiccup2
Same dodgy looks carrying a bike and bags out of the airport, only to find out that taxis wouldn't take us and our bikes to our hotel.
Nothing for it, only to make them roadworthy and cycle off into the night. Half an hour hard labour, 1 tube exploded as it was caught in the rim (sound like gunfire and people ducking everywhere) we cycled the 2 mile trip to the hotel through the gathering gloom....
Hiccup3
On arrival at the hotel we found we had only 1 room booked even though we had written confirmation on two rooms. After much huffing and puffing with "Johnny no stars" at reception, Tim and Chris went to another hotel 400yds away. He was a bad advert for tourism in Portugal as "it wasn't his fault" and "what could he do". I know what I would like to have done to him!!
We met later and went to Faro for a few "ales" and to pep talk ourselves for tomorrow. Faro town itself was quiet and sleepy but a nice pleasant feel to it. We noted the speed the cars were travelling on the roads where we would be cycling tomorrow (taxi reached 140km at one stage).
Adjourned to the bunk and ready for "GO" tomorrow.
DAY 2: FARO TO LAGOS
Day 2 pictures ...
"Thunderbirds are GO"
Beautiful morning, got the bikes ready, went to the other Hotel (Frangaria, very good) to team up. Bought water, fruit and some goodies and were ready for action by 10 AM.
This part of Faro was busy on the road and it took a while to negotiate our way out of the town onto the road to Lagos. Dual carriageways with merging lanes can be tricky with a laden down bike and cars/ trucks flying everywhere. However each mile got better and after 5 miles a link road to a motorway took away the bulk of the traffic and we found the cycle easier on the N125.
(If you are interested in cycling around this area, make sure you buy an up-to-date and detailed map, it's best to wait until you get there as the maps we bought in a reputable shop in Cork were well out of date. )
We carried many spares for our bikes as we were informed that bike shops were scarce in the Algarve. So you can imagine our surprise when we chanced upon one of the biggest bike shops we have ever seen on the side of the road!!. They sold everything you could ever want (The Bike Shop) in every colour. At this stage doubts about our Algarve EXPERT, Chris, were beginning to form but we gave him the benefit of the doubt.
On we went and left the N125 and turned for Albufeira. Having negotiated our way to the centre, we found the old historic street parallel to the beach dug up and resembling a building site. Seems we are early in the tourist season and they were still building the old historic streets and squares!! Lunch was had in a cafe by the beach (lovely setting), walked through the tunnel to the prom overlooking the beach (nostalgia trip for Chris) and then it was time to hit the road again at 2 PM.
One major problem today was panniers and bike bags coming loose as we had not perfected the knack of securing them properly to cope with road conditions. Panniers swinging and a handlebar bag jumping from Tim, meant that some time was lost as we tweaked and adjusted and resolved to do better tomorrow. Tim's camera was a casualty of spilled concrete on the road near Albufeira. We drifted on the N125 towards Lagos, stopped after an hour at some roadside cafe near Porches. Here a Coke and coffee fortified the spirits, we decided against a visit to Portimao as we reckoned we would be late getting to Lagos, and so we pushed on.
Nice spin from here on as the road was reasonably quiet, with a hard shoulder all the way. We crossed a beautiful suspension bridge over the Arade river outside Portimao, great photo opportunities and all the time kept a look to our right where Monchique, tomorrow's proposed destination was perched high up in the hill. Ice-cream and a water bottles fill in Odiaxere 5 miles from Lagos was our last en-route stop of the day as water supplies had gone low and dehydration was a factor, though we had been lucky with temperatures, never more than mid 20's. Here we made the wonderful discovery of the power of a double magnum Caramel. It wasn't the last one of these on the trip.
Into Lagos, a beautiful old town, and we found the Hotel Tivoli, thanks to Tim and his engaging ways with some local people and the "ponies" were tied up for the night. 6.30 PM.
Fabulous hotel and very pleasant staff. Quick swim and shower, don the "glad rags" and we were ready for the evening.
We ate in a quaint old restaurant, with vino and aqua where Cataplana (assorted fish in large copper dish) revived the bodies and generated a good vibe about the day and anticipation of tomorrow's events. Night life was quiet when we adjourned for a few ales and only an encounter with a small pub with a red light outside the door lifted this town out of the sleepy state it had reached by 11pm.
DAY 3: LAGOS TO PRAIA DE ROCHA
Thursday Day 3
Day 3 pictures...
We woke up to a nice day, a good breakfast and got ready to set off for Cabo de São Vincente. Pumped a few wheels and headed out through Lagos to get back up to the main road for Sagres. We stopped early to stock up on water, bananas and biscuits at a supermarket. Here is where Tim found his camera had stopped working. Damn cement trucks. After this we headed for Sagres again on the N125 turning near Villa do Bispo onto the N268 south. When arriving in Sagres you can see the fort in the background. We had a brief stop for coffee and cake before making the short journey (4 miles) out to Cabo de São Vincente. Only to notice the strong headwind we were cycling into.
We had arrived at the first goal of the trip, to reach the most south-westerly point of Europe. unfortunately the lighthouse was closed, but we parked up and locked the bikes and had a stroll around. Took a few snaps, bought “Cabo de São Vincente” tee-shirts out of the kitty. When we were getting ready to leave, a tourist was admiring Tim’s (Campy-equipped) bike and saying Shimano was best. Setting off again we headed back to Sagres and turning up the road we came to Villa do Bispo, into a strong head wind. It took an hour to get about 8km. It was time to have a talk about our plan to go up the west coast;into this wind for another 20 miles?
We stopped for coffee and sandwiches here and asked the waitress for her opinion. She just believed we were mad to try and go up to Monchique via Aljezur. She was explaining how difficult it was to do in a car, not to mind to try on the bike. We then decided over coffee to cancel our hotel reservation in Monchique and see where we would go. After looking at a couple of routes we could do instead we decided to go as far east as possible. Heading back into Lagos to find a tourist office to see where we could stay, we passed along by the river and we had to stop for some photo opportunities. We cycled around town looking for a tourist office, being directed to one that was closed first. In the town centre we met two Americans cycling from Lisbon to Athens. Madness. We found the tourist office after a struggle and directions from the Americans. There we decided to stay in Praia da Rocha and went about looking for a place to stay. The woman in the tourist office recommended a few places, trying to get us a cheap lively place. An expensive place is 100 euros a room. She booked the Hotel Jupiter for us. We stocked up on water and had our Magnum Doubles before heading towards Portimão on the N125.
After a small bit of navigating we found our hotel and we booked in. Dumped the gear in the rooms, freshened up and left the hotel for a quick stroll around before the meal. We found the hotel we turned down, a very old type hotel across the road. To turn around and look at our hotel, it looked more like the Ballymun flats with Tim’ s yellow aluminous top hanging off the balcony. We then headed to the farmers for a pint and then for some grub. Back to the farmers after this, so Pat and Tim could act as an agony aunt for couples. They saved a few relationships that night too.
DAY 4: PRAIA DE ROCHA TO TAVIRA
We met up for breakfast in the ground floor restaurant, not bad but the orange juice was of the Miwadi variety again. Amazing, having seen oranges overhanging the road for most of yesterday’s trip. Anyway there was a good range of grub and plenty of it, the view was a bit underwhelming; across the street we could see the remains of the Hotel Rocha, undergoing a richly deserved demolition.
Once we had packed and taken in the washing from the balcony, (there’s great dryin’ in Praia de Rocha) we decided to avoid the mayhem on the main road to Portimao and went the wrong way down a one-way street for 100 metres found the old road the distance was only two miles and the road was quiet.
We kept the river on our right and made our way past the squares and quays of Portimao. We stopped in the cobbled streets on the way out of the old part of town, and stocked up on water and oranges. We repeated our trick of cutting lemon pieces into the water to keep it tasting some way palatable.
We crossed the old bridge over the Arade estuary, and headed towards Estombar; according to the two maps we had,there was a shortcut to Silves that avoided the main roads around Lagoa. However the roads were completely changed and we ended up doing a bad-tempered warm-up lap through suburban Portimao, and then took the main route. The fun wasn’t over yet as we had to pretend not to see a “no-bikes” sign approaching the EN125, but after a couple of miles we reached a major junction near Lagoa and turned north towards Silves; we were back on a hard shoulder and heading in the right direction.
(This really brought home the importance of a good map for cycling holidays; we had lost about a half-hour, and we could easily have wasted time and effort on the wrong road)
This road to Silves was above the surrounding fields so we could see and smell the orange and almond groves as we pedaled up the slight incline. The road was good all the way; once we rounded the last corner before Silves the red sandstone walls of the old Moorish fort made a very dramatic introduction to the town. We stopped at an outdoor café near the town centre, (centro) and had our mid-morning coffee and cake stop. We reluctantly decided against having a look at the town centre as we weren’t sure what lay ahead of us and we were keen to be in Tavira at a reasonable time. Today’s route was the longest and hilliest so far and it was hard to judge the effort we’d need once we left the coastal plain and took to the hills around Loule. One of the drawbacks of cycling tours is that you can’t really spend too long in any one place along the road, you just get a taste of it and move on.
ON TO LOULE
We had enjoyed the long sweep down into Silves but this had to be paid for with a fairly tough climb back up on the road towards Algoz, but once we had that done we were on a sort of plateau. The road passed by farms and orchards and we were roughly parallel to the Algarve railway line. The road was quiet, but the surface was a bit rougher than we had been used to. There was no hard shoulder but the view, the weather and the lack of traffic made it the nicest section of the trip so far.
We were keen to retain as much hard-earned height as we could and were hoping to go via Tunes and Paderne to Loule, but there was no suitable road east of Paderne so we dropped down to the EN 125 again through Ferrerias to the junction at Boliqueme. Here we had another round of Double Caramel Magnums, (essential fuel for the middle–aged cyclist) at a roadside café-bar. Tim noted the high spirits and camaraderie there and in the other bars along the road and from then on we noticed that most of those café bars were fairly lively around lunchtime and early afternoon. This was very convivial but there was lot more drinking than eating going on, and there were a good few trucks and cars parked outside each shebeen.
From Boliqueme we turned inland toward Loule; from the maps the route looked fairly steep and it didn’t disappoint. We had expected that, but the section from Boliqueme to Loule was the most dangerous and least enjoyable of the whole trip. Once we left the EN125 there was a reasonable slope towards the hills; however the road was narrow, no hard shoulder and a good deal of traffic. There were a lot of rigid trucks, driven by red-faced habitués of the bars we had admired earlier. We had a very close shave when a car stopped at a junction and the next driver in line braked too late; he fishtailed across the road and if one of us had been a few minutes quicker eating our Magnums he’d have been sideswiped off the road. (This was the only near miss of the whole trip).
We then had to negotiate a major junction between the motorway (IP1) and the EN125, once we were past this the road got steeper and there were fewer cars; however there are quarries on the road to Loule and there were a lot of trucks heading that way. These drivers were in no mood for cyclists, and with the lack of a hard shoulder, the sheer drop to the valley floor, the trucks and the heat the next hour was fairly tough and dangerous. However once we got up to the centre of Loule it was all worth while: we had coffees and a sandwich at an outdoor café in the main square, and the waitress was friendly, helpful and extremely easy on the eye.
We had been concerned about the next stage, from Loule onto Santa Bras de Alportel in the Sierra de Monte Figo mountains. On the maps the slopes looked daunting. We set out from Loule, got some water at another rockin’ roadside café and pedaled on a steady pace; the road rose but there were no grinding inclines; the old road had been graded, widened and resurfaced. you just select a gear and steadily cover the ground. We stopped now and again for photos, the ride on this stretch was great, with the mountains around us, the air a bit colder, no traffic and the smells of fruit coming form the farms and orchards. We turned south toward Tavira at a new roundabout near S. Bras, and had a mostly downhill scoot down to the coast. Except for one or two rises it was a great relief to let gravity take over. We had one last little scrape on the way up the last hill; Pat and Chris were overtaken by a local on a Harley with custom footpegs; he seemed to be wearing clown shoes which stuck out like oars on either side of the bike. He just misses clipping our panniers as he roared past, so much for two-wheeled solidarity. We all met up again at a major roundabout at the intersection with the main motorway; this had been decorated with hundreds of yellow, green and red kid’s windmills. We took a few snaps, mounted up and shot into Tavira. The cobbled crowded streets were a bit of a shock after all the quiet country roads, but we navigated our way to the Hotel Vile Gale(two god hotels in Tavira and they both have the same name???) we booked in, stabled our horses in the underground car park, and had a refreshing dip and pint at the pool. Once we were changed we sauntered past he row of restaurants along the quayside, we were hustled by one of the restaurant owners, who made lavish promises; after walking to the town square, which like that in Albuferia was reduced to a heap of cobbles. We wandered through the gardens along the river, over the old Roman bridge and went back to the restaurant with the friendly owner. This turned out to be a bit of a speed wobble after a great day; we didn’t ask for a menu and ended up paying twice as much for the meal as we had on previous nights; we were also assaulted by a squadron of mossies from the estuary. The food was OK, we each had “steak on a stone” which is basically a slab of steak dropped on a hot piece of marble, where it cooks in front of you. With a few strips of onion and basic dips it looked more like a dinner kit than an actual meal, and the heat form the stones and the attentions of the mossies made it a bit of an ordeal. The pain was eased a bit by the nice red wine but this turned out to be €25 per bottle, which would have bought 5 bottle anywhere else. Overall it was the least impressive meal of the week. We were still in good form though, and we wandered back through he gardens, over the “temporary” bridge and sought out Patrick's pub on the other side of the river. This was a friendly place in a narrow alley, and we celebrated 44th Chris’s birthday with a few ciders. We met up with a gang of friendly English guys who were celebrating a much older (50th) birthday by going on the lash in Tavira. This seemed a bit odd, like hillwalking in Holland but they seemed to be enjoying themselves. They had been eavesdropping on our conversation and decided from our Cork accents that we were Scandinavian! Once they had told us their joke 8 times we decided to move on; we crossed the bridge but Tavira was not exactly heaving so we ended up in another pub 20 feet up the alley , birthday celebration continued with beer, port, whiskey and chat and we made our way back to the hotel tired but happy after a great day.………………………
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DAY 5: TAVIRA TO FARO AND HOME (FOR SOME)
Saturday, Day 5
All of us were a bit ropey after the late night before, so the conversation was a bit muted at breakfast. As usual with a buffet set-up everyone milled around looking for bits and pieces, and one of us ended up buttering bread with a spoon but as with the other hotels, breakfast was fine, a good selection of cereals, fruit and hot food. We followed the golden rule that a night of beer must be followed by an Irish breakfast and had bacon, sausage and egg, ideal bike food (if you’re on a motorbike).
We went for independent wanders around Tavira, it was a bright sunny morning, not too hot so the hangovers weren’t nuclear. More like a fine summers day in Ireland. We kept bumping into each other in the winding streets of the town, as we explored the castle and churches on the hill and the shops along the riverfront. The town was quiet compared to high summer with very little traffic and a very relaxed air about the place.
At 12:00 we went back to the hotel to check out only to find that our keycards had timed out so we had to have them reset at reception, but there was no problem. We took the 'washing' in off the frangipani and changed into it, much to the relief of Pat's embarrassment! We then packed our panniers for the last time, checked passports and tickets and collected our mounts from the garage. We decided on a last photo outside the Vile Gale, so we asked a passing hombre. After much gurning he failed to take a snap so we did it ourselves. We set off, Chris leading the wrong way down a one-way street which was dug-up for good measure. So we set off again, this time down the correct street and up the hill past the creepy Army barracks. After another brief detour, we headed out the road to Santa Lucia, one of the 2 resorts that flank Tavira and allow access to the beaches on the sandbars off-shore. It was a flat run after leaving Tavira proper, in through what seem to be public housing and past the newly refurbished waterfront. Here there were new fisherman’s huts, a play ground and a football pitch, all ready for the summer season.
We passed a number of dusty shops and restaurants and headed north and slightly uphill through the resort of Pedras Del Rei, a cluster of nice but faded bungalows in beautiful gardens. We decided against taking the toy train out to the beach and pedaled on.
After Chris had an encounter with a possibly imaginary 3-legged dog, we again met the EN125 and turned west (left) for Faro. At the junction we spotted a mobile phone mast which was disguised as a pine tree, very realistic.
We decided, based on Pats new map and a new-found sense of direction that we would get off the main road and head towards Moncarapacho north of the 125. This would extend the journey a little but take us out of the crazy traffic east of Faro and allow us to see a few more villages and more countryside.
WE stayed on the EN125 for a mile or so until the village of Luz, we passed another beautiful locked church and negotiated a bizarre junction to
head toward Moncarapacho. After a few yards we were pedalling beside overhanging lemons, oranges and figs along the road. The traffic dwindled to one or two cars every few minutes. The birds were singing, the sun shining, the crickets chirping and Tim’s Campy freewheel buzzing along the road.
We stopped a few times for photos and a good look round and then rolled into Moncarapacho just as the bell on the church was pealing. In the hillside square we had sandwiches, water, another coffee and sat back and lapped up the sun for another half-hour. Only then did we realize that the bells were ringing because it was 3 o’clock, and we had 10 miles left, possibly a climb or two and had to be in the airport for 5. After a small delay in getting the bill, We saddled up again, found the road to Estoi, and pedaled off.
The road rose a bit then, with a small headwind so we had to get the heads down and get some distance done. But not before Pat and Tim stopped for a 'photo shoot' with a background of overhanging lemons followed by a 'score of bowls' with the ones that had already fallen. We had no mishaps, and after some navigating hit the N2, due north of Faro, turned left and pedaled in the heavyish traffic all the way into the airport. We had to navigate a few serious junctions but we had a lot more confidence than on the first day so we all made it safely and in good time.
We immediately set about get the bikes ready for check-in, which involved turning handlebars down and under the top tube, taking off the front wheel, bracing the forks with a length of pipe and a skewer. We then tied the front wheel to the main "triangle" between down tube seat tube and top tube. All of this and a change of clothes took up almost an hour, surprisingly long as we had all the tools to hand.
We then checked in without any hassle, and were directed toward the outsize luggage desk to deposit our bikes. With a sniff and a stifled sob or two we watched our bikes being tenderly wheeled out of sight, and then no doubt hurled onto a cart 15 feet below the check-in level. In fairness the bikes arrived in Cork safe and sound. TIP: 'Wet Wipes' can only do so much when it comes to masking the sweat of the previous 25 miles cycle, much better to visit the perfumery at the airport and 'wrap' oneself in a heavy mist of 'Hugo Boss!'
The overall trip has given us a taste for touring, and taking in the sights and sound of the places we pass through. We enjoyed the challenge of Mizen Head to Malin Head last year but it's much more enjoyable to pace yourself and take time to smell the oranges. We're definitely hooked and we'll go further afield next year.