Dr Mark's Tardis

Sagres 8 April 2013 By mermaids, I mean sting rays or rays, which are believed to be the basis of the mermaid legends. We cycled into Sagres today, which primarily reminded me that we had cycled the day before and my bum was sore. However there was a bit more to Sagres than a pain in the bum. It seemed like a sleepy out of season seaside town – that impression can easily be explained by the fact that it really was a seaside town, out of season and there were not many people around. We headed to the old fishermen’s harbour to see the early morning catch. This was never likely to be successful since we had got up late, cycled 1.5 km to the town, and it was now after 2pm. Since we were on bikes and not in the Tardis we could do nothing about the time and headed to the port regardless. To our surprise the catches were being unloaded from the small trawlers. The quaint old fashioned fishing boats transferred their catch to a small modern production process. Standard orange trays w...

Sagres 7 April 2013 Today we left our secret beach and headed onwards, delayed briefly by Karen watching the surfers undress. We ended the day at a campsite by Sagres, from our “open all year” list. Traveler's tip: look for signs, don’t follow the satnav. Late afternoon we took the challenge of cycling to Cabo de Sao Vicente. The satnav correctly predicted it was 6km and flat. Equally significant the directions were simple: turn right when we reach the main road and carry on to the end of the road. The end of the road, was Cabo de Sao Vicente, and was the end of the world – or so it had been regarded by the ancient Greeks, Romans, and later the Portuguese as a sacred place, the end of the known world. We cycled there and stopped. Why? Well, why we cycled there will only ever be known to close family.  But why did we stop? Well I had my excuses, I can’t swim well and you clearly need to be a good swimmer to take that approach, and I had bike, which was clearly unh...

Secret beach 4/5 April 2013  A small hill rises from the beach at the side of our parking space. I had to climb it of course. As it happened I could get mobile phone reception and send Zoe a birthday greeting. However, even that was not the real treasure of the hill. We had traveled along roads lined with fields of wild flowers , about half of which we recognised. We had a mountain walk through forests of fruit , eucalyptus and pine trees interspersed with disowned orange and lemon trees dropping their fruit around them. To add to the fields of flowers and forests of fruit, we had now found the hill of herbs .  Enough varieties to make any gardener proud, they just covered the hill with a fragrant patchwork coat of plants. Not bushes, just low like healthy rock plants and easy to climb over. How come such variety is maintained naturally? If I neglect my rockery for a season it gets overrun by a dominant plant. We identified a few and photographed many of...

Secret beach 4/5/6 April On our first night here we watched the sun set over the sea from the cosiness of the Tardis, parked at the top of the beach. And it did. Set that is. Astronomically not very surprising, but we watched it set and disappear beneath the horizon without the usual clouds that rise up to frustrate us. And we have the pictures to prove it, lots of them. How often have you seen that at the seaside? Late this afternoon, we found something astonishing on the beach. What is the most amazing thing you could find? Well it was not a lump of whale vomit worth tens of thousands of Euros. The beach could have had lots of such nodules that we mistook for slate. But anyway, you will never guess so I’ll tell you….. It was a turtle. A real turtle; but not a real-live-turtle because this one had its head, a flipper, and a few vital organs missing, but it was nevertheless a real turtle that very recently used to be a real live turtle. About 60cm long, and we have the pictur...

Secret beach 5 April 2013 We woke up to a view of the Atlantic waves rolling up the beach a few yards from us. The sun came out (no rain all day) and the waves sparkled excitedly. I longed to go in them, if only I had bought my surfboard! Well body board actually, because I can’t really surf. The sunny spells got longer, but the wind was still quite vicious. A car load of surfers parked alongside us and two of them ventured briefly into the water. If only I had bought my surf board! 3pm and it was clearly as good as it was going to get today. Leaving my full drysuit in the bench cupboard, I decided to try shorts and a rash vest.   I had in fact packed the body board, it was light weight and there was a hiding place the right size. Amazing. The sea was probably a bit warmer than Polzeath in the summer. The shorts and rash vest were warm enough, partly because the excitement of the surf surpassed any thoughts of cold.  The waves were a bit haphazard and the sea fl...

Aljezur and the journey to the secret beach 4 April 2013 We found it, the idyllic unspoilt beach on the west coast of the Algrave. Even Karen admitted that the satnav had done something useful. But you won’t hear about that until the you have heard the whole day’s story. We woke on mount Foia, so shrouded in mist that we could not see the road 50m away. So miserable and wet that we decided to move on even before breakfast, yes even before having a cup of coffee. We aimed for Marmalete as a breakfast stop – all our journeys and stops and organised round our meals. But we passed through it without really noticing and had lunch in a warm layby next to a wood of spindly eucalyptus trees. Aljezur offered us a reassuring public stopping place, with toilets in the middle of town next to the local market. We sampled the market – the oranges were particularly delicious – and then boldly decided to venture further. Next we were tempted by the cliff top park above Arrifana, a ...

Monchique Tue/Wed 3 rd April The journey to Monchique was a delight; bright and sunny almost all day. Tourist information grimaced and said that the forecast was more rain storms the next day. We also found out the routes to the two local peaks to exercise us the next day, if we dared challenge the weather. We also learnt that the “no entry” signs we had seen liberally spread either side of our route to the menhirs, was in fact marking the GR walking route. At Monchique we were on GR13 which headed off, in opposing directions to the two very different peaks. Taller at 900m was Foia which we could walk to but was also serviced by buses and boasted a restaurant craft centre and enough aerials, domes and masts and towers to support an entire navy (the Portuguese navy to be precise). We were more tempted by Picota at 700m but with just a marker and watch tower for the walkers who scrambled to its pinnacle. The night brought enough rain to fill the whole quota for Wednesday, so ...