chapter eleven

On our first morning in Tomar we intended to explore the castle which overlooks the town, but first we had to wash our tent in disinfectant, in an effort to rid ourselves of a swarm of ants. We'd had the same problem at Penacova a couple of days ago, and we now suspected that some of the ants had left `alarm pheromones' on the fabric. As we camped at different sites - and within different ant colony territories - so the ants mistook us for invaders and responded by swarming all over the tent! Luckily they rarely got inside, but we now hoped that washing the tent would remove the problem once and for all; we also took the precaution of moving the tent away from the ant's nest!

It was late morning by the time we left the site and wandered up the main street of Tomar, which was brightly decorated in bunting - as if to celebrate our arrival. We discovered a Jewish Museum tucked away in one of the backstreets and, not wanting to arrive at the castle during the midday siesta, we `killed an hour' exploring inside. A kind elderly gentleman greeted us at the entrance, and explained in English some of the troubled history that the Jews of Tomar had suffered during the Medieval period. It appears thet during the Crusades when the main threat was from the moslem Moors, the Jews were widely accepted, but once the Moors had left Spain old rivalries and religious intolerance returned. Thje museum has received a great many artefacts from all over the world, by Jews who had earlier visited the museum, and this gave an interesting insight into the `Family of Judaism'. We certainly learnt a lot during our time in the museum, and perhaps left a bit wiser because of it.

The main street in Tomar looking towards the castle

n the afternoon we explored the fascinating remains of the castle and the Convent of Christ inside. The castle had originally been built by the Knights Templars, but after a dispite with the king of France who ordered the disbanding of the knights, a new Order of Christ was established here. During the `Period of Discovery' when the likes of Columbus, de Gama and many others were discovering new continents across the globe, the spread of the Christian doctrine was seen as very important, and it was these Christain Orders that often paid for the voyage.

Much of the later part of the Convent is still in ruins, but the oldest parts - including the church - are beautifully preserved. We spent ages climbing stairways to upper balconies, wandering around the castle walls and generally exploring as much as we could before the main gates closed by early evening. The weather had improved too, and bright sunny skies were promised for the next few days, so we were feeling particularly pleased with our one day off from the bikes.

Tom & Jess enjoying the Convent of Christ at Tomar

Mindyou the following day we were back on them and heading off on the twenty mile ride to the religious centre at Fatima. Our journey took us over the varied undulating terrain so typical of this part of Portugal - limestone hills with pine forest one minute and barren dry plains the next; it all made for an interesting ride. When we stopped briefly for a drink at Ourem, we had a fantastic view of another Templar castle high above the old village, which dominated the surrounding landscape. We had little time to spare though, and continued on to the busy resort of Fatima.

'Resort' seems an appropriate name to call this town, which has grown up on the site of an apparition of the Virgin Mary, revealed to three shepherd children. There were hotels and giftshops everywhere we looked, and being a Sunday it was packed with daytrippers all spilling from their coaches and cars. We made our way through this tangled mess to the main centre, which thanfully was closed to motor traffic.

After locking our bikes to some railings we joined the other visitors queueing to get into the plaza, before which stood the impressive frontage of the Basilica. Along the walls of this building were large murals depicting the life of Christ, but inside was the real reason why many people had come here today - to attend a special Mass. The ceremony and music was piped outside to those who couldn't get in, and gave a whole aura to this religious experience. Meanwhile in the adjacent Shrine - the site of the actual apparition - hundreds of people were saying prayers and throwing candle tributes into a gigantic ceremonial fire, which Jess had originally thought was a huge barbecue for everyone!

We gradually began to feel overwhelmed by all this religious adulation, especially since some worshippers were now paying penance by walking around the shrine on their bare knees. It was pitiful to see the old, sick and even crippled `pilgrims' in desperate pain as they trod around the shrine on a way-marked path specifically laid for this purpose. We couldn't help but feel frustrated that people were here trying to be good christians, but were going to return to their zealous, bigotted lives in just a few hours - surely it meant more than just being good on Sundays? We'd had enough and knew it was time to head back to our campsite at Tomar.

The Basilica at Fatima

The journey back took much less time than going, thanks to a stiffening (and increasingly cool) wind, and we were soon sitting in the tent preparing our tea. We reflected on the day's events, and found that whilst Fatima was indeed a beautiful centre, and full of good things, we'd come away feeling that it was simply too `over-the-top'; perhaps a more subtle (and meaningful?) manner of worship would have been in keeping with Christ's teachings.

chapter twelve

Leaving Tomar was not a simple process and it took thirty minutes of dithering about before finding the right road - further evidence (if any was needed) that we needed a better map! Almost immediately the traffic got much busier and we found ourselves sharing this narrow carriageway with heavy lorries, and just to make matters worse the road was full of potholes!

It was with much relief then that we turned off this main road and cut across country on smaller lanes to the 'Castle of Bode' dam. The view across the water's surface was something very special, and we considered spending a couple of nights at the campsite which overlooks the dam. However, after staying at Tomar for the past three days we were itching to see pastures new and pressed on for the lovely little village of Constancia.

Originally built by the Romans at the confluence of the rivers Zezere and Tejo, the village had little sign of it's ancient history but was most beautiful all the same. A recently-constructed palisade along the riverbank provided us with the perfect spot to enjoy our lunch beneath the overhanging canopy, whilst we waited for the tourist office to open.

Once inside, the assistant gave us all the gossip on one of the village's most infamous past residents - Cervantes, who wrote about the adventures of Don Quixote and his squire. it seems Cervantes was expelled from the King's court at Lisbon because he had 'an eye for the ladies', and it was thought he could do less harm here in the country! Whatever the reason for his living in Constancia, the peace and solitude of this quiet backwater must have inspired him to put pen to paper.

We spent a short while wandering around the village walls, but since the steep cobbled streets and flat cycling shoes do not make perfect bedfellows, we had toretreat back down to the riverfront and prepare to move on. Not before noticing two plaques on a house in the main square though; they marked the levels of the floodwaters in 1978 and 1979 - over twenty feet above our heads!

Our progress east along the Tejo river was exacerbated by the construction of the new IP6 dual carriageway. All the roadsigns directed us onto this arterial route, but since cyclists are forbidden to use it's smooth new tarmac, we had to find the disused old cobbled road to our overnight stop at Abrantes.

We arrived at the campsite just outside the city, and were surprised to find no other tents or caravans occupying the plush green pitches. The grass had been well-watered and should provide us with the most comfortable sleeping surface we'd had for the past few weeks - just about everwhere else had been dry old grass or just plain gravel! We didn't dwell on this though and after erecting the tent and locking up the bikes, we took a taxi (Jess was tired out and couldn't face the long ride) to the castle high above the city.

We had totally mis-timed our arrival and only had fifteen minutes to wander around inside before the castle closed. We discovered all sorts of artefacts on display in the museum, including some beautiful Roman statues, as well as pottery and coins. We would have loved to stay longer but felt guilty about keeping the curator waiting, and reluctantly left to have our supper. Back at the campsite we quickly learnt why the site was so empty - a crowd of youths had gathered outside the gates and spent the next few hours noisily playing football in the square outside.

Next morning we woke after an unexpectedly peaceful night - we thought the noise might go on forever - but decided not to stay for a second nightin order to revisit the castle. There was something unsettling about the site which suggested that they'd had trouble with the local kids in the past. Our sympathies went out to the site owner (who was obviously doing his best to attract tourists), right up to the moment he charged us for our bikes!

We were now entering the region that the Portuguese call the 'Plains', and which the Tejo river seperates from the more mountainous north of the country. Though the terrain was not dead flat, it was certainly more level than the areas we'd already visited, and we had visions of us speeding along in top gear. However, one thing we'd not really considered was the hot dry climate of the Plains - which would make any exertion very difficult - as we were to find out!

Typical scenery in the blazing hot Portuguese Plains

We headed south towards Pontede Sor, and soon the scenery of eucalyptus forests gave way to olive groves and secondary crops of barley. It was certainly becoming drier, but the roads were wonderfully quiet and there were very few villages we had to pass through. We stopped beneath the shade of a tree for lunch, and had the luxury of a white stork's nest (perched on an electricity pylon) to keep us entertained. The huge bird seemed as interested in us as we were of it, but the unrelenting sun soon cause it to go back to sleep, and us on our way.

Just outside the village of Montargil we stopped at a large Orbitur campsite (we'd stayed at several of these well-run sites already) and so knew it should be better than last night. It was still early afternoon but now the temperatures really began to climb, and to make matters worse a hot breeze was picking up too. We decided to spend the rest of the day sipping cool iced tea in the restaurant, and birdwatching on the edge of the nearby lake.

During the night we heard something moving around outside, and thinking it might be rats (the site shop was selling rat poison!) we opted for the coward's approach - to stay inside the tent  and pretend to be asleep! We needn't have worried though, it could just as easily have been foxes or bats(?), and by morning we woke to another beautiful day with birds singing in the trees. These birds turned out to be a family of Great Grey Shrikes and they, along with some nuthatches, distracted us whilst we tried to pack the tent away. Once this was done though wec were keen to be on our way, and hopefully reach our destination before the afternoon heatwave set in.

Making use of the available shade at Montargil

Just a few miles from the campsite however, it was clear we would not be able to do this, as the temperatures were already well into the ninties. When we stopped briefly for a drink in one small village, a siren alerted us to a bush fire up in the dry woodlands, and several fire engines raced away to the scene. We could see the grey cloud of smoke from miles away, and as we passed closer so the thick acrid smell of charred wood filled the air.

More birds took our minds off the heat for a while, as stopped to take a photo of a dozen Egrets nesting in one lone tree, but we were sooning running out of water and Jess began to feel ill. The combined effect of the hot blistering weather and hard cycling were beginning to take their toll, and by the time we reached the village of Arraiolos Jess had had enough and couldn't go on.

We were very lucky to find a guesthouse in this small village and though it didn't look very promising from the outside, the "O'Ninho" was very nice indeed. Withour air-conditioned bedroom and plenty of cool bottled water, Jess began to revive so that by late evening we could take a walk around the ruins of yet another castle. We had learnt an important lesson today - to recognise the early signs of heatstroke - and we would have to bear this in mind if we were going to continue in temperatures like this - which the TV weatherman confirmed as being over 100 Fahrenheit!

Following a good night's sleep we reached the walled city of Evora (our intended destination from yesterday) after just fifteen miles, and so arrived at the campsite before noon. The receptionist (who had appeared a bit frosty to begin with) suddenly became much friendlier once she learnt who we were - she'd been keeping a package sent from England for us for a couple of days now. The parcel contained a spare tyre for Jess's bike and a nice letter from Mum - our fist of the whole trip - and it certainly cheered us up no end. WithJess's whhels measuring an imperial 27", and the continent using a different metric size, we were not going to get a spare tyre anywhere in Spain or Portugal! At least now we could continue secure in the thought that if we did wear another tyre out (we'd already worn one out already!), at least we had a replacement.

Houses within the medieval aquaduct at Evora

We stayed in Evora for a well-earned rest of two days, relaxing in the historic walled part of the city, complete with it'sRoman temple and Medieval churches. The weather was just as hot and we'd had to rethink our general plan of cycling around the coast of Western Europe, and would now have to leap-frog to the northeast coast of Spain. This would mean missing the wonderful sights of Seville, Granada and Andalucia, but it was just too hot in the south and we needed to get to the cooler conditions further north.

Tom at the Temple of Diana in Evora

We enquired at the railway station about trains from Evora to Barcelona, but after much searching through the timetable it appeared we would have to double-back hundreds of miles to do this. This didn't appeal so we then considered hiring a car to take us across, but since we'd be passing from Portugal across the border to Spain, the car companies seemed remarkably reluctant and added a penalty of several hundred pounds! We had only one option, that of riding across into Spain (just a hundred miles away) to the city of merida, and once we'd explored it's wonderful Roman remains, to hire a car from there.

With motorways dominating the cross-border routes, we had to pick our way carefully along smaller roads to reach the Spanish city of badajoz just on the other side. We passed through the town of Redondo where we were greeted by the sight of hundreds of fellow cyclists taking part in a regional time-trial.  It was a very big event as the race waswell supported with teams from all across Portugal and Spain, and we enjoyed watching somebody else toil along these roads while we stood and watched! We stayed overnight at Vila Viciosa (in a small hotel which also had the honour of accomodating the organisers of the cycle race) and spent the evening exploring the majestic palace of Don Joao IV. A huge bronze statue of the Duke astride his horse stands in the plaza in front of the palace, part of which is now one of the nation's luxury poussada hotels.

As we wound our way past the towering and impressive castle of Elvas, which overlooks the valley of the River Guadiana, so we crossed the border into Spain and had to change all our money from Escudos back into Pesetas. Almost immediately the road surfaces became better, and it didn't take us long to reach Badajoz where we stopped overnight (again in an air-conditioned hotel!) en route to Merida.

We finally arrived at a small campsite just outside the Roman city of Merida, on Monday 5th july. By this point we'd cycled over 2500 miles........but were now to take a few days off and soak up the remarkable history and ancient culture that this little-heard-of place offers.

chapter thirteen

On our first morning in Merida we were very excited and eager to see the Roman remains that we'd read so much about. The "Rough Guide to Spain" have us quite a bit of detail about the best features we ought to see, and though we hadn't been able to bring the whole book with us, we did take the precaution of photocopying the relevant pages. Aside from Santiagothis was the only point on our ride that we specifically wanted to visit, and after the uncertainty of coping with the very high temperatures we were both relieceved and glad to be here.

We needed to cash some travellers cheques in, so after riding the four miles from the site back down into the city, we found the main shopping area and our first bank. Unfortunately they couldn't cash travellers cheques and recommended we try another bank further along the road. Alas they too couldn't help us and told us to try yet another branch - which we did but to no avail. In all we had to enquire at seven banks before finding one that would cash our cheques - and of course we'd had to wait ages in a long queue to be served in all of them! We made a note of which bank did accept travellers cheques, just in case we had the same problem later on.

We had intended visiting the large National Museum of Roman Art, to fill us in on the main points of the Roman occupation, before going to see the remains themselves. However, since it was now siesta time (thanks to the unforeseen delay at the bank) we opted to explore the Amphitheatre first.

This remarkably well-preserved arena was built in 8 b.c. and was the site of such entertaining spectacles as slaughtering  Christians, fighting wild beasts and other wonderfully exciting (if brutal) scenes. The stone seating (capacity 14000) on which the masses sat was still perfectly usable for the most part - only the upper tier had collapsed in on itself. Beneath the terraces we found the chambers where the gladiators and their victims were housed whilst awaiting their turn in the central arena. It was easy to imagine the horrors that must have occurred in this bloody ring, while the crowd roared their approval at the brutality laid on for their enjoyment.

Lying right next door to the Amphitheatre is the Roman Theatre, at which entertainment of a different nature was offered. There was no gladatorial combat here, or at least only make-believe, as the theatre was intended to appeal to people's higher instincts. It dates back to roughly the same time as the Amphitheatre (which coincides with the Roman founding of Merida), but was much restored in 1933. It is now the site of the annual Festival of Classical Theatre which was due to take place just a few days after our visit, and the gantries of theatre spotlights had been erected in the wings in preparation. This detracted from any sense of ancient history unfortunately, but the rest of the main building was still undisturbed.

The restoration had included replacing the magnificent blue granite pillars which had fallen off the main screen wall, which formed the backdrop of the theatre. Photographs we were to see later in the museum, gave us a clear impression of what the place had originally looked like prior to the restoration - and we actually preferred this to the neat columns you see now.

Tom & Jess at the Roman Theatre in Merida

Still, once we began wandering around beneath the theatre we discovered some far more original features, including a wonderful Roman road complete with stone paving slabs. Leading off this were small alleys and other buildings which must have provided refreshments to all the theatre-goers. On the floors were beautiful stone mosaics, whilst the plastered walls depicted scenes from popular Roman plays. We continued exploring the site for another hour or so and then returned to our bikes, safely locked up near the entrance.

Back at the campsite we relected on what we had seen during the day, and hoped that the other sites would be just as exciting. We had other things on our mind later though, as the campsite was alive with wildlife just calling out (literally) for our attention. We saw Stone Curlews, Mountain Hares, Kingfishers as well as a very noisy family of Great Grey Shrikes in the trees above our tent; and just as the sun was going down a group of bats put in an appearance!

After a rather noisy night - the nearby reservoir was a popular haunt for local youngsters - we were up early and on our way into the city before ten o'clock. The museum is right opposite the Amphitheatre we'd visited the day before, and has four floors exhibiting the very best Roman artefacts that have been found from all over Merida.

Statues of Roman gods, emperors and other dignitaries share the hall with huge mosaics that have been fixed to the main walls - thus allowing one to see the full pattern made by the small coloured stones. There was a large section on pottery which we found particularly fascinating, as the exhibits showed clear similarities with those we'd seen at Dorchester Museum back home. Overall, the art in the museum was beautifully preserved, probably due to the hot dry conditions of this part of Spain, which has meant less decay than in the cold damp conditions found in England!

In the afternoon we rode around to the "Alcazaba", a fortress built by the Moors to protect the bridge across the Guidiana river. The bridge itself was actually built by the Romans, who had a small dock here on the southern edge of their city. The walls of the Alcazaba are still in perfect condition, and give little hint that it dates back almost 1200 years. The Moors held the city for 400 years until the Christians recaptured it in 1230 AD under King Alfonso IX, when the fort then became a convent. Hidden beneath the Alcazaba though are the remains of Roman houses and streets, and recent excavations have revealed the beautiful mosaics that have lain undisturbed all these years. We walked along these streets, in the footprints of the old Roman citizens, before continuing across the bridge itself. At over 2400 feet long, and made up of 60 arches, it is perhaps the perfect testement to Roman ingenuity and technical brilliance.

Merida is well supplied with digital clocks around the city, which also record the temperature, and we hadn't been slow to realise just how hot it was. During the mornings it was a pleasantly cool 28 C, but by mid-afternoon the temperature had climbed to over 40 C - and if that wasn't enough a strong wind made it feel even hotter! That evening we had a meal at a small restaurant overlooking the campsite, and apart from sitting in the shade we had to sit out of the wind - it felt just like the blast from an oven door!

A Roman road and villa inside the Moorish Alcazaba

Over the next two days we tried to see much more of the ancient city of Merida, including the "House of the Amphitheatre" - which is in fact several mansions (not just one) built near to the gladatorial arena. Excavations are continuing, but it is already possible to see some splendid mosaic floors as well asthe heating system for the hot baths that these houses contained. It was nice to see how the people lived, by interpreting the layout of their homes and the evidence from all their remains. An example of this was the water that passed through the kitchen, providing not only water for drinking and cooking, but it also carried waste material away down the hill.

Some of the other building remains are in heavily built-up areas, and it was therefore difficult to visualise them in the context of the Roman city - but they were interesting all the same. The Forum and the Temple of Diana have been partly restored, which further detracted from their appeal, but the Circus (or Hippodrome) was most certainly still very impressive. This huge arena held the famous chariot races - immortalised in the film Ben Hur - and though little is left of the long central plinth, some of the stone seating has survived. The huge blocks of limestonehad obviously been taken away over the centuries and used to construct other buildings elsewhere in the city.

One site that we could not fail to miss as we entered Merida, were the two huge aquaducts bringing water into the Roman city. The Romans had constructed dams in the surrounding hills (including one very near our campsite), and had carried this water along stone channels all the way to where it was needed. Where the water had to negotiate a river valley they built an aquaduct to carry it across, so that it arrived in the city by means of gravity alone. The aquaducts are about eighty feet high, and though no longer used to carry the city's water supply, the local White Storks have not been slow to use them for nesting on!

After five wonderful days we felt it was time move on, and though there was still plenty more that we'd have liked to see the heat was still unbearable at times. We had already decided to hire a car to take us across to the other side of Spain, where it should (according to the weather forecasts) be much cooler. This central southern region of Spain is a long way from the coast, and it doesn't get the cooling sea breezes found further north.

So it was then that we dismantled the bikes and bundled all our luggage into the back of the hired Citroen, which was going to carry us the 600 miles to the outskirts of Barcelona. It would only take us two days, and since the car was air-conditioned (what a luxury!) it would be a comfortable way of passing through this very hot and very arid region. We knew though that Merida was the highlight of the trip, as well as our furthest point, and that we were now on our way back home - something that filled us with mixed emotions.

chapter fourteen

We eventually arrived at Granollers, just north of Barcelona, by late afternoon. It had been a good journey overall although we did have problems in Madrid, where we ended up going right through the city instead of around it. Mind you, Madrid looked beautiful and we promised to revisit at some point - though preferably not on bikes!

We couldn't find a campsite to stop at, nor the car rental office that we were supposed to return the car to, but at least the hotel let us use their "pagos amarillos" (yellow pages) to sort the problem out. We discovered that the company had an office right on the coast, which would be better for us, so after much messing about we arranged to leave the car there. That evening we shared a bottle of wine and let the frustrations of the day ebb away, at least we would be back beside the sea tomorrow - something we hadn't seen for several weeks!

Finding the rental office in the busy town of Mataro was not as easy as we'd expected, but by midday we'd reassembled the bikes and were pedalling off up the coast. We passed a succession of holiday resorts, complete with hotels, restaurants and souvenir shops - and busy traffic - all the way to the British favourite of Tossa del Mar. The sea was a beautiful turqouiseblue colour, and the golden sands made us feel very welcome to be back, as did the campsite we found on the edge of Tossa.

Considering this was the Costa del Sol and it was high summer, the place wasn't as hectic as we'd expected and we had no trouble finding a quiet pitch well away from the crowds. The site had a cosmopolitan mixture of French, Spanish, Germans and English, and although most of these were family groups, there were a few couples too. We didn't feel too different then, although we were the only cycle-campers.

The next stretch of coast was far more mountainous than the ride up from Mataro,and it would be like this until we'd passed the huge mass of the Pryrennees which come down to meet the sea here. It really was a case of up in first gear and down in top gear, and this went on for mile after mile. The scenery was fantastic though with the dark greens of the coastal vegetation contrasting sharply with the reds and yellows of the rugged sandstone rocks.

The terrain eased slightly as we approached the Gulf of Roses near l'Escala, and suddenly we were transported into the world of Summer Madness. Campsite fees had leapt to over ?17 per night (we were used to paying ?6 - and even less in Portugal!) and to make matters worse the pitches were smaller and more congested! We eventually found one very friendly campsite at San Pere Pescador who let us stay on the 'stop-over' area near the front gates, at a fraction of the proper rate. It was late evening by this time and we were just glad to find somewhere reasonable for the night, hoping to at least have a peaceful sleep after the exertions of the day's ride.

Cutting the bark from Cork Oak trees

It was only the ants that woke us up during the night - but by now we were even used to this - and we were off early to resume our ride around the coast. Once again the road became very hilly and the temperature soared as we left Port Bou, the last village in Spain, to begin the climb up to the French border. A car passed us and the driver cheered enthusiastically, but in this heat all we could manage was a polite smile. Slowly though we gained the necessary height and crossed into France atop the cap of cervera, where the view somewhat surprised us.

Below us stood a huge railway marshalling yard, obviously the point where international traffic is inspected, ready for crossing into Spain. It looked remarkably Alpine, being set deep in a valley amongst the surrounding mountains, and we took a quick photo before dropping down into the village of Cervera.

We managed to exchange all our Spanish money - even down to the last peseta - at a fairly competitive rate, which immediately allowed us to stop for a cool drink and gateau outside one of the cafes. Things had quietened down a bit, and we stopped at a municipal site right on the cliffs overlooking the sea; before watching the Tour de France on the site's telly. In the evening a pair of Blue Rock Thrushes (the first we'd ever seen) entertained us as we watched the sun go down - boy it was good to be back in La France!

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