Portugal, Part 1

17th October, 1999

After watching the race we packed up and headed south, reaching the border at Rio Minho for lunch.  Just inside Portugal is a fortified town shown left below.  At the border there is a large site which once housed customs and other offices, but is now empty and deserted apart from a caravan based Bureau de Change, where we changed some money.  It occurs to us that in a little over a year's time these places will be harder to find, when we Brits want to change money.

The route south through Portugal took us onto a relatively new motorway that cuts through the Minho region, which is reckoned to be the most beautiful part of the country.  The road was almost deserted and, for mile after mile, we crossed sparsely populated mountainous countryside.  Eventually, we arrived at Porto and set about finding our campsite.  Once again, we came on a different route to that described in our book and missed the correct turn and reached the site having through the port and refinery area of Matosinhos.

The first thing we noticed was that the British car we had seen on the way to Santiago was in camp and we soon decided that the spot next to them was probably the best place for us.  The couple were Cliff and Dorothy, who told us they had sold their house and planned to spend some time in the sun.  So far, however, the sun had been distinctly lacking and we were in for even more bad weather.  After sorting ourselves out, we walked down to the sea shore, where a small community lived.  Our guide books had warned us about Portuguese roads.  They have the habit (as we have also experienced in the USA) of tearing up the whole road to re-make it rather than doing half at a time.  In this community we found the main street, shown below left, was just such a case.

The site was very large and mostly static - that is to say caravans and tents that stay there all year round.  Though it is quite near a busy port and oil refinery, it is also close to a very pleasant beach and is a weekend resort.  On the Sunday, when we arrived, the weather was good and the site was quite busy, which was why we had pitched near the other English and well away from the ablution block, where the weekenders were concentrated.  On the Monday, however, the site was all but deserted.  It also had an area for washing cars which we took advantage of as the weather at the time was dry and sunny.  Car washing is the modern day equivalent of a rain dance and the rain we had been running from soon caught us up.  For the first time on our expedition, we took to driving from our caravan to the ablution block which, as luck would have it, was the furthest away we had experienced.

19th October, 1999

We woke to a miserable, wet day but were determined none the less to do a bit of touring and set off for Guimarães, which was the first capital of the early kingdom of Portugal and the birthplace, in 1110, of Alfonso Henriques.   From this town the reconquest of Iberia from the Moors began. 

We decided to explore the 'N' road rather than take the motorway.  This turned out to be little short of a disaster.  The guide books tell how poor the roads are, but one still has to experience them to believe it.  Portugal has the dubious distinction of having the worst road accident record in Western Europe - several times as bad as the UK.  The roads must play a major part in this as their driving standards are not too bad.  The main problem is the very poor demarcation of the road edge, together with a very sharp drop from the edge of most roads to the surrounding land.   If you are not careful and let a wheel over the edge, an accident is inevitable.   In the wet and dark, it is all too easy.

After a very tedious drive, we reached Guimarães but did not stop.  We drove past the castle and, seeing signs for supermarkets, decided to do a bit of shopping.   When we left the supermarket the rain returned and stayed with us almost without let-up for the next 48 hours. 

Our main objective for the day had been to visit Citânia de Briteiros, which is a remarkable hill fort on the road to Braga from Guimarães.  The pictures below show the site, which was occupied from about 300 BC and may have been the last stronghold on the Celts against the invading Romans.  We explored the ruins, in driving rain, and got soaked to the skin.  Though wet, it was not cold and we suffered no ill effects.   The picture below left shows a view looking towards the (modern) reception from a paved road which is shown below centre.  The picture below right is a reconstruction of a Celtic round house.  On the site there are some dozens of stone circles where these houses stood.  We were particularly impressed that these people had paved roads, communal baths and water and drainage systems.  Previously, we had thought these unique indicators of Roman civilisation.

Soaking wet, we drove on towards Braga, which is something of a religious centre.   Our route took us past Bom Jesus, the most famous part of which is shown below left. 

Bom Jesus do Monte is an extravagant Baroque church created early in the 18th century by the then Archbishop of Braga.  It boasts no particular apparitions, miracles or relics and yet has become a place of pilgrimage where penitents climb the steps on their knees, much as they do at Rocamadour and Santiago.  We had difficulty in finding the church and the view of the stairway as there are no signs.

We decided, as it was getting late, to settle for a quick look at Braga which turned out to be a most time-consuming venture as we got horribly lost and found ourselves in the evening rush hour going the wrong way.  What seemed a reasonable recovery route turned into a diversion down narrow, dangerous roads which, in the dark and wet, was something of a nightmare.  At one point, we were held up while some hapless local was lifted out of a ditch having slipped over the precipitous edge of the road.  We arrived back to a wet and windswept campsite. 

The previous night (also wet and windy) we had trudged over to the bar/restaurant only to be told that, contrary what the receptionist had said, it was closed.  We now know that many businesses close on Mondays.  This night we determined to try the site restaurant and, after a little hesitation, they decided they were open.  We dined alone.  The restaurant was really designed for warm summer evenings and was surrounded on three sides by full length glass panelled folding doors.  In the gale that ensued, these panels rattled continuously and water ran down the inside of many of them, as well as part of the roof, which also leaked a little.  The meal, however, was ample and we enjoyed it.  The waiter, however, was thrown a little by our request for a glass of port, which we had thought might be the thing to do as we were staying just outside Porto.

20th October, 1999

After a wet and windy night in which we were disturbed by monster cones falling from the pine trees, we decided, wet or not, we would see Porto.  Our British neighbours had done it the previous day by bus.  The trip meandered through all the suburbs along uneven cobbled streets for an hour and a half and we thought we would do better in our own car.  Getting into town was easy but, as we had expected, parking was impossible so we made brief stops, parking illegally for a few minutes at a time.  

We made for the Duoro river and, as we were pointing west when we found it, we followed it to the sea, shown left, which was more than a little agitated.  The area was surrounded by park land and, in good weather, must be a very pleasant place.  We returned to the centre and spent a little time at the Cais de Ribeira, from where we looked up at the famous two-tier Pont Luis I bridge.

The bridge is shown below left.  On the south bank of the Duoro, opposite where we were, we could see the numerous port houses but, as it was still raining, we contented ourselves with a wander around the  square adjacent to the Cais, shown below right.  

The port wine, for which the area is known, is made further inland along the Duoro and, in times gone by, was brought down in little boats like the one on the left that could negotiate the rapids further upstream.   Now these boats are only for the tourists.  We continued along the Duoro to the point where the Rio Tâmega meets it.  The drive was quite pleasant and we had a few breaks in the rain.

The pictures to the right give some idea of the beauty for which the Duoro valley is famous, with steep wooded  slopes going down to the water's edge.

The pictures to the left show the bridge we crossed at Entre-os-Rios taken from the road on the south bank to the east which was as far as we went before turning back.   (Note of 18/03/01: Sadly we saw recently on the News that this bridge colapsed with much loss of life.)

Last updated:  18/03/01