Portugal trek, Setubal to Porto April May 2012Hello readers, it’s the troubled trekker here again with tales from the edges of Iberia.

Back in 2007 Kim and I attempted to walk from Sagres (the southern tip of Portugal) to the Santiago de Compostela in north east Spain. After several navigational problems, (which were the result of ancient military topographical maps not the usual reason; me only attending scouting for one week) we abandoned our original objective and took a train from Setubal (just south of Lisbon) to Porto then continued on foot from Porto to Finisterre using the (better mapped) pilgrimage route to Santiago de Compostela. (The details of that expedition can be found following this blog.)

The failed mission has been nagging at us ever since but the memories of lengthy detours caused by the poor maps took a long time to fade.In early 2012 we were discussing the walking target for that spring and ‘Portugal Problem’ raised it’s head again, I decided to check the map situation and was surprised to find the Insitiuto Geografico Portugues offering updated civilian topographical maps. http://www.igeo.pt/

Prior to the last Portugal trek (2007) I had found the IGP maps but they were all seriously out of date. The military maps were supposed to be more recent, but they proved dated and inaccurate too. Since 2007, the IGP have been busy, having updated a significant number of the civilian 1:50,000 scale maps. Even more exciting they have published a grid of the whole country showing the year each map was revised. (That’s where some of the EC money went!)

Furnished with this new weapon I set about planning a route from Setubal to Porto using the most up to date maps. This strategy produced a rather strange zigzagging route which challenged my usual desire to get from A to B in a straight line.

Setubal is about 30km south east of Lisbon with good transport links so we flew into Lisbon on the evening of the 23rd of April, arriving late in Lisbon, with no time for sightseeing, we stayed near the airport and hopped on the 11:00am train to Setubal. The line to Setubal looks new or recently renovated with modern stations and clean trains. So far we saw little manifestation of the financial dilemma faced by the Portuguese.

Arriving in Setubal at 12:30 meant we could set off straightaway; we had already targeted the town of Pinhal Novo only 14km north as the first day warm up. There didn’t seem to be much in the way of accommodation in Pinhal but it was on the same train track we just used so we could come back to Setubal that evening.

Page 2.The weather was kind for day one and although the first 6km were on road there was plenty of room on both sides for cycles and walkers. We had noticed on the last Portugal adventure that the drivers were not particularly aggressive or fast (like the French) but they were distracted; we always walk facing the traffic so you have a chance of leaping out of the way if the drivers don’t see you, so we study the reactions of the drivers as they approach. There are distinct differences between countries. In Ireland the drivers were careful and courteous, often signalling to pull out round us and offering a friendly wave as they passed.In Portugal they frequently didn’t spot us until they were a few meters away and when they did the sight provoked a sudden swerve not always in the correct direction. The drivers that did spot us sufficiently far away seemed to be drawn towards us by some unseen force. It was for these reasons that we wanted to get off road or onto tracks as much as possible.

We had forgotten the abundance of poppies that we had seen on our last trip but as soon as we got off the beaten track and into farm land they were there to greet us.

Pinhal Novo as the name suggests is a new town consisting of unappealing apartment blocks. It looks like the new rail link has spread the suburbs of Lisbon this far south. No accommodation there so we went straight to the station and hopped on the first train to Setubal.

Page 3.Walking from the station to the hotel we discovered the old town (which we missed earlier), quite a pleasant area with a bustling square and some buildings of architectural merit. Signs of economic problems were evident though with several shops boarded up.

We dutifully returned to the Pinhal the next morning and set off to Alochete only 16km away. The ‘new’ maps were accurate as far as major roads were concerned but some of the tracks were either blocked or ploughed into new fields. This resulted in some minor detours but no major headaches.

The small town of Atalaia provided a welcome lunch stop at the excellent fish restaurant with fresh rouget and squid. It was a national holiday celebrating the ‘Carnation Revolution’ when, on the same date in 1974 a military coup ended the dictatorship of Marcelo Caetano (no I’d never hear of him either) without a shot being fired. So everyone was having a long lunch. The owner and his wife had spent several years in Switzerland in the restaurant / hotel industry, and it showed.

On the way to Alochete more signs of economic woes were visible with several secondhand car sales outfits apparently in people’s front gardens.The rain had set in hard by the time we arrived in Alochete but Kim had found an apartment which the owner was prepared to rent for one night, it even had a washing machine, bliss!

Only a few km on road the next morning, passing the huge new outlet shopping mall ‘Freeport’ and over the river Alva. After the bridge we picked up a wonderful dirt road following the banks of the river Tejo (Tagus) estuary, once again the Storks had arrived from Africa and were nesting on the electricity poles. Along this route we spotted some spray painted signs for ‘Fatima’, Kim vaguely remembered that this was a pilgrimage destination. Had we stumbled upon a pilgrim route by accident?

That evening we arrived in Samora Correia and were surprised by what appeared to be major road works throughout the town centre. The streets were covered in sand and adding to the mystery people were boarding up their windows and doors. As we arrived in the main square the bull running posters revealed the truth.

A local restaurant looked inviting and the owner was very welcoming (he had worked for several years on cruise ships), although he wasn’t serving meals until 8:00pm he was happy to rustle up some tapas. He explained that the bull running started tonight and we were well placed for a good view. The first night was just one bull but later in the week things got livelier with fights and Pamplona style runs. He was careful to add that here ‘we don’t kill the bulls’.

Page 4.Here is the star of the evening looking pretty angry.

(Of course I was hiding behind the barrier when I took that shot)

We were sad to leave Samora the next morning knowing that 6 more days of action were in store.The weather had cleared and there was still a fresh northerly wind which made for perfect walking. As we made our way to Porto de Muge we stumbled upon another excellent lunch stop in Salvaterra de Magos, an old royal falconry which had been renovated and reopened restaurant and the birds on display nearby. We had to peer at the birds through the window of their lodging as the falcon trainer didn’t arrive until mid afternoon.

However ‘The Falcoaria’ restaurant run by Francisco was excellent, but unfortunately we were the only diners. In addition to telling us his life story Francisco explained that the economic situation was not treating him kindly. However he did divulge his secret recipe for mint chocolate mousse and revealed why the farms in Portugal were called ‘Quinta’. The name was derived from ‘quinto’ the fifth of income that the farms had to give to the king, seems strange to name your home after a tax.

Page 5.

After a pleasant afternoon on sandy track along the south bank of the river Tejo we arrived at our river crossing point. Now when you are in a car you never think twice about river crossings you naturally aim for the nearest bridge never considering the few extra kilometres detour which may have been required to get there. But when you are on foot each kilometre is precious and it’s amazing how few bridges there are across a big river like this.

Although I doubted the accuracy of the maps this crossing showed a minor road and a railway line crossing the river so I was pretty sure we could get across using one or the other. Just before the river tracking alongside the railway for 1km saved us a 3km road detour so after brief consideration we scrambled up the bank.I don’t think we needed worry as no trains passed us and as we arrived at the major river crossing a guy on a motorcycle came bouncing along the railway line towards us.

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The road bridge was firmly closed to traffic and had been for some time by the looks of it. Fortunately it was still passable on foot and just about on bicycle. The bridge provided spectacular views down river towards Lisbon.

Page 7.After the excitement of the river crossing we arrived in Porto Muge, our target for the night. The accommodation search had been a bit sketchy here but we had found the Quinta Marchanta a stable and riding school with rooms, after asking some locals we tracked down the Quinta and were (warmly) welcomed by Graça. She explained that she only offered B&B but she’d be happy to run us to the local village to stock up for an evening snack.

The local store doubled as the bar and bread depot so they had everything we needed, including local wine decanted from the barrel into a plastic water bottle.Graça gave me a rundown on the area as we drove back from the village. The north bank of the river was very fertile (more than the south bank) and once the flood control dykes had been built this area produced all the crops that Lisbon needed including very good wines. According to Graça the EC intervened and persuaded farmers to tear up the vines and plant tomatoes. By the looks of the derelict farms this wasn’t such a good idea.

Graça moved from Lisbon to renovate the place and open the stables and riding school. Well worth a visit if you are in the area. http://www.quintadamarchanta.pt/enhome.html

As the only guests we had free run of the public area and use of the extensive video library!

Page 8.After and excellent breakfast we were in our room repacking our gear and getting ready for off when we spotted several hikers on the trudging north on the raised flood dyke outside. They all wore high visibility vests, but the guy carrying the cross gave away their destination. Pilgrims! Fatima!

Once again quite by accident we had stumbled on the pilgrim route to Fatima. This time the route that came from Lisbon along the north bank of the river Tejo.We didn’t have Fatima on our route (it was a little too far east) but we decided this was too good to miss so we had to reroute to follow the pilgrims. Besides the ‘all sins forgiven’ vouchers we earned after the Pilgrimage to Santiago de la Compostela had expired (they only last a year) so there may be a chanch to renew them.

It was Saturday so I guess the pilgrims were completing sections each weekend. They were well supported with a lead car and a small bus for the injured! We soon caught up with the whole gang at their mid morning coffee stop and the backup crew asked if we were going to Fatima too. Of course now we could honestly say yes. The lead car soon caught us up in his quest for a lunch stop and asked if we would like to join them for lunch. We politely declined fearing too much delay.

Page 9.Despite the showers the rest of the mornings trek through the tomato fields to Santarém was pleasant enough; there were even signs that the vines are being replanted.

Santarém is not a very pleasant town but a fine example of something we had noticed throughout the trip. New buildings are built next to or literally touching something that is completely derelict. This habit offers a very strange cityscape.At least one of the new buildings offered lunch.

We had finally left the flat flood plains of the Tejo behind and the countryside started to look more attractive with gently rolling hills. We had targeted a village called Azoia de Baixo for the evening with what was quaintly named the Hotel Rural. They were not answering the phone but we spotted a sign and trudged on. Fortunately as we scratched our heads at a fork in the road a car pulled up and Kim managed to get the attention of the young lady passenger. She spoke English and was obviously a bit surprised we were looking for the Hotel Rural. Eventually she persuaded her male companion to drive us to the hotel (about 2k up the track). We asked if she was staying there, ‘not exactly’.

Even before we got into the place it was clear that it was not a conventional ‘Hotel Rural’. There were about 20 cars in the car park and a lot of men milling about. When we got inside it was clear the smoking ban did not extend to these parts. Our new friend said she would ask if they had a room, the bouncer (no kidding) asked us to take a seat we started to plan our escape. As we waited the evening’s entertainment walked by, fishnet stockings and little else. OK it’s a brothel, but you’d think that our new friend who’s ‘not exactly’ staying here would have said something? Fortunately she arrived and said sorry no beds (not for a whole night anyway, perhaps an hour). She was very helpful and called a taxi so we could make our escape back to Santarém and the relative safety of a real hotel.

Back to the rural bordello the next morning by taxi and the punters have been replaced by pilgrims. We overnight in Alcanea and despite being Monday the pilgrim hoards are really out in force. We are targeting Fatima tonight so it’s the last stretch to redemption.

The pilgrims don’t seem to mind walking along the main roads under the protection of God and their high visibility jackets, but we try to keep off road as much as possible so we are in and out of pilgrim company all morning. At the town of Minde (about 15km to Fatima) the pilgrim signposting goes into high gear. I suspect there is a Minde to Fatima penitence walk to have demanded such good coverage. At this point we abandon the maps and decide to follow the designated route.

Page 10.The cafes in Minde seem to sum up the Portuguese commercial approach, not a mention of Pilgrim’s lunch or sustenance for the sinners. In fact the reception you get is downright grumpy. This actually ties in with the reception we had been getting along the route. Now I know you are going to say what about the ‘warm welcome’ at the farm, the ‘friendly tapas’ at the bull fight. Well the unifying trait for all these people is that they had worked and trained aboard usually in the tourist industry.The locals, if left to their own devices are a miserable lot. I know you are going to accuse me of xenophobia but the impression comes from comparison, not with my own race but with people like the Irish, who we voted ‘most welcoming’ and ‘most courteous drivers’ during our Irish trek.

Enough of the moaning the route to Fatima from Minde is quite challenging off road on rocky tracks so pilgrims earn their absolution. We arrived in Fatima late in the afternoon and the first sight was an enormous car park (fortunately empty). It looks like this place can draw crowds which would rival a cup final.

Why such a fuss? Well the Virgin Mary appeared in a vision to three shepherd children on the 13th day of six consecutive months starting on May 13th 1917. She divulged special secrets to Lucia, Jacinta and Francisco that only the mother of a deity could have known about. Then made the sun spin about.I’ll let you make your own mind up after reading this.http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Our_Lady_of_F%C3%A1timabut I might add that it was the same year that Frances and Elsie took photographs of fairies at the end of their garden. More about that here. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cottingley_Fairies

Whatever the background it was certainly a boost for the local economy, unfortunately the town has none of the charm of Santiago de Compostela I suppose because the Fatima pilgrims have only been coming since 1917 but Santiago has been attraction the faithful since 813 and somehow old stuff is always more attractive. With the exception of people (and I include myself in that category)The official web site gives you a little taste the stylehttp://www.fatima.org/Do check out the ‘Fatima TV worldwide’.

The town is full of shops selling religious artefacts most of which were recognisable but I couldn’t understand the strange dismembered wax heads, legs, hands, feet etc.The local wax museum purports to reproduce the visions in 28 scenes in wax figures. I can only assume that you buy the anatomical bits needed to create your own scene at home and assemble them with the help of a box of matches.

Page 11.In addition to the macabre body parts the other strange sight that Fatima has in store is what appear to be normal people shuffling towards the ‘sanctuary’ on their knees.

As you can see the high viz jacket becomes a badge of honour at Fatima, meaning ‘I walked here’. I didn’t see any of the shops selling knee pads like the ones used by roofers but I think there may be an opportunity here.

We leave Fatima on May the 1st, twelve days before the anniversary of the vision when up to 1 million people have been there in one day! Phew.

Onwards to Leiria mainly on roads but its’ May 1st, a public holiday so not too busy. We seem to have crossed some sort of economic frontier as things are looking more prosperous, Leiria is quite a large town perhaps we are in the commuter belt?

As we near Leiria we cross two new motorways and a third under construction, this must be where all the Euros went. I wonder if anyone in Lisbon or Brussels had hard evidence that building motorways resulted in economic growth, isn’t there something more fundamental like people wanting economic growth and being capable of delivering it. These construction projects brought to mind what a young lady had said to us in Samora Correia.

Page 12.. (We were inquiring about a particular route choice and if it was passable). This is a direct quote from a Portuguese national.‘We are stupid and we have no money, but we have lots of roads’. I’ll let you decide what that meant.

Leiria has an interesting couple of blocks of old town in the centre but the rest is a mess. Next stop Figueira da Foz back to the coast. A combination of starting in Setubal (on the coast but set south east of Lisbon), zigzagging to make use of the latest maps and detouring to Fatima meant that we had been inland until now, but we rejoined the coast for the last few days of the route. Figueira da Foz is quite a large port with plenty of fishing and industry. The port nestles on the north side of the river Mondego leaving the sea front clear for tourism. We were mercifully out of season but it looks like this place is set up to welcome the masses. The old town had potential which has yet to be realised.

As we left Figueira we passed a good example of a recurring theme, the China Bazaar. Lots of towns, small and large have China shops full run by Chinese and full of Chinese manufactured goods at bargain prices. I wondered if this was a throwback to Portugal’s link with Macao but according to this http://www.neurope.eu/article/chinas-slow-boat-portugal-has-it-finally-arrivedIt’s a fairly new phenomena.

Page 13.North inland the next day to Tocha on a route that tracked along parallel to the main road (N109). The attraction to being near the road is that is where all the cafés are so we were pretty well nourished on this route. We had to brave a few 100mt. sections of the main road where we saw plenty of pilgrims heading south to Fatima. Once again they appeared to favour the road over the back tracks. It surprised me that ‘the pilgrim’s protection agency’ have not routed most of the pilgrimage off road. Perhaps they think that the pilgrims have divine protection?

During one of the (many) café stops today we met ‘Brad’ (not his real name but he looked like a short Brad Pitt) who was cycling from home in Italy to the four corners of Europe (Southern most point, Western most point etc). He was averaging 100km a day with made us envious.The crumbling Albergaria Arcarda south of Tocha was full of pilgrims; I saw some of them cheating by getting on the coach in the morning. I hope God was watching.We passed through Tocha the next morning and it has a huge market square (empty today) it must be the regional centre for agricultural produce sales.

The route after Tocha was very pleasant through ancient sand dunes that are now pine forests. We spotted some of the trees with their barks neatly peeled away and collecting pots wired to the trunk, reminiscent of maple syrup or rubber collection.

Page 14I had never seen pine resin collected in this way and fortunately only a few minutes later we found the collector, who was eager to share his secrets and spoke French. He collects the resin for traditional varnish, adhesives and even cosmetics.

This evening’s destination is Praia de Mira (Mira Beach) which has made an attempt to turn the lake and sea front into a holiday destination, but the usual mixture of derelict ruins cheek by jowl with new build means they failed. The kids smoking and drinking in the Club Nautique were mercifully more helpful than the miserable cow in the Tourist Office though.

As you may notice I was getting a bit jaded by this stage but day 12 had some excitement in store. We were shooting for Forte da Barra where there was a ferry across the estuary to Sao Jacinto. I had checked that the ferry was operational by e-mail with the tourist office in Aveiro. We were missing Aveiro (dubbed ‘the Venice of Portugal’) sadly but it was too far east. We arrived in Forte da Barra with a good 15 minutes to spare before the 14:24 ferry (the next one was 16:24) but we were not sure where the dock was and there were no signs. It was Saturday but the security guard in the Dock Administration building wanted to be helpful and spoke good English.

Page 15He directed us to the end of the dock, were we saw signs and cars driving towards us. That looks promising the ferry must have arrived from the other direction. When we arrived at the dock, a little breathless, all we found was an old tug and lots of fishermen. We inquired of someone who looked local, and spoke no English, a fisherman came over and offered to help and spoke good English. ‘No the ferry broke down weeks ago, but there is a passenger ferry, in fact you can see it arriving, there to our right. The red boat, it docks opposite the dock Administration Building’.

Well you can imagine the panic, that was back 600 to 700mts and 5 minutes before it sailed, what was the security guard smoking? Off we went at an awkward trot (you try running with a 12kg pack on), I was out front waving a the boat, meanwhile Kim got tied up in one of the fishing lines which caused a stir. Of course at moments like this photographs are not the first thing you think of. The ferry is on Portuguese Saturday time so it’s not going anywhere on schedule. We squeeze on panting heavily.

Despite being at the end of a long deserted peninsula with only a (passenger) ferry access to Aveiro Sao Jacinto is quite a pleasant little town.

There were lots of people enjoying a long Saturday lunch in the sun, so we had to join them.

Page 16.Kim was exited, not only that we managed to get the ferry but that she had spotted a Pousada right en route for this evening’s accommodation. Now Pousadas are majority government owned hotels usually in interesting old buildings and some can be very luxurious. (Some being the operative word) The Pousada de Torreira Murtosa, Ria de Aveiro is a 1960s hotel which hasn’t changed much since it was built. In true bureaucratic style these things have to be booked centrally with the Pousada department before you get there, which Kim had dutifully done. So we knew that the price was 120€ and were expecting luxury. To put things into context, the best hotel so far offered us a sea front suite at 90€. The outside of the place was enough to tell us this was in the 60€ bracket. Before we went in Kim called Pouasda central and asked if any of them had seen this place. Of course not, they were just the marketing department. Kim negotiated a discount before we checked in some of which was based on being older than 55!The guy on the desk was more sympathetic but he had no authority to offer discounts. If any budding social economists out there want a thesis project. I suggest‘Portugal Pousadas; an experiment in centralised decision making in a competitive market’

I thought that the Pousadas were state owned but I now read that ‘In 2003, after a decade of losses the Portuguese Government decided to privatise 49% of ENATUR's (the state owned holding company) capital, as well as concede the management of the Pousadas to the Pestana group, who won the bid. This discovery suggests that the management was even worse before 2003!Our waiter that evening was a young man who had been trained in some hospitality school that thought we were still in the early 1900s, but when we explained what we were doing he warmed to us and was very pleased when we asked for advice on a navigation choice. Further north we could see a great route choice on a minor road but it bordered a military airport. I wasn’t sure if it was public access or not.He knew the route (for reasons that will become clear) but warned us that was the prostitutes hangout. After the Hotel Rural we were beginning to see that Portugal was not so boring after all.

Off the next day to Furaduro via Torreira where the Mother’s day crowds are gathering for Sunday lunch. This place is not bad and everyone looks dressed to the nines (except us), probably for Mother’s day church service.The morning was spent on road with the company of hoards of cyclists but afternoon we manage a few km off road. At a road intersection a local (in a car) stops and asks if we need directions! A first in Portugal it’s amazing how after days of scowling faces an encounter you would expect every day in Ireland can cheer you up for hours.

Page 17.Furaduro is hopping with Mum’s being treated to a day by the sea but it is the same mixture of derelict and modern we have seen all the way.The local pottery artist adds a bit of colour to the place having adorned his or her whole house garden and garage with ceramic figures and plaques.

The ‘Boutique Hotel Furaduro’ (cheaper than the Pousada) gets top marks for service and value but why anyone thought Furaduro was a good place to put a Boutique hotel I cannot imagine.

Next day we were getting quite excited, not only to because we thought we could make Porto but it was the day of the ‘prostitutes road’. The rain set in about 9:00am and we were disappointed that the ladies might not venture out in such weather.We need not have worried, within 2km of Furaduro we spotted out first business lady, scantily clad but armed with an umbrella from a distance she looked quite passable, on closer inspection thought she must have been 70 and on the game for a long time. Quite sad on a rainy Monday.

We were cheered up by the discovery of a new cycle path which followed our route through the pine trees. The road was not busy but it soon became clear that the motorists were looking at the services on offer and not concentrating on the road so we felt safer on the bike track.

Page 18.A km father on and we found the next ‘lay by’. This time a bit more up market complete with white van with smoked glass windows. The owner was in the driving seat reading a magazine with long stocking clad legs dangling out of the door.It was difficult not to stare so we shouted a friendly ‘Bom Dia’. We didn’t get to look in the back but I guess it’s kitted out with mattress and everything you might need for a good time. I wonder where the bathroom is?The next van was had an interesting occupant, a girl in her 20s with what appeared to be a pile of school books which she was marking, looks like the Portuguese economic problem is affecting the teachers too.

The cruising cars were beginning to get familiar as we saw the same one roll by time and again obviously checking the produce before buying. I was surprised that when they decided to stop they didn’t hide the car number plates better.Hope his wife doesn’t see this.

We trudged on, poncho covered voyeurs, speculating how this particular road had become the red light district. It was still about 25km from Porto so that seemed a long way. Seclusion, perhaps, but I think the best suggestion is the fact that the military airbase (actually a NATO base) is right next to it.

The route had not finished with surprises.

Page 19We were only a few km from the sea and there were several tracks going off to the beach, as we passed one of these I spotted a strange arrangement on the sandy ground. Only a photograph can explain.

Wine, perfume, a sliced cucumber, tarot cards, blood, the feathers of a bird and wait for it. A heart (plastic) supporting a photo of a beautiful girl with a dagger, runing through the photo and the heart.

Well can’t say Portugal’s boring now!Who was the girl? who was the perpetrator? Should we call the police? Lots of things to fill a rainy afternoon’s discussion. I have googled the items allong with ‘Spells’ ‘Voodoo’ etc and can’t find the target. Whatever the objective I don’t think it was intended to be pleasant.And the last tale from the ‘Caminho do Putas’, just before we arrive at Ezmoriz the last working lady is once again on foot complete with unbrella and once again well past pension age. The retirement benifits don’t look too good.

Ezmoriz offers a good pizza with lots to discuss, then on to Espino which we had hopes for. Perhaps the nearest seaside town to Porto, but it proves to be one of the worst places so far. Interestingly the beggers here have moved from the traditonal church door to the entrance to the Casino even on a Monday afternoon. Of note on this route is Aguda which is full of 1920’s and 30s villas some renovated to their former splendour and of course some not.

We arrive in the south of Porto late and crash out in the Hotel Mercure. Time to escape by the next EasyJet flight out tomorrow.