Belfast…???…No, home…

You don’t have to have been to an Orbital gig, but if you have, you should understand my logic here…bear with me, I will post an appropriate video to accompany at the end…

Having spent quite a bit of time in the ‘company of strangers’, there will be some aspects of my observations that i will not miss when I get home. 

My point is, there is some unwritten etiquette in these environments, for the comfort and benefit of all, that are not always understood or followed…

…and with my massive lugs, I have also got quite attuned to all the noises (it comes from living on a Narrowboat)…

IMPORTANT RULE:

Rucksacks - these bulky items are stored overnight, in a creaky metal cupboard, by the bed and should get packed downstairs or outside in the morning…

So, to give you an idea, mornings with Druids start a bit like this…

Small zip...open…in goes the wash bag..zip…closed…zip…open again, rustle…long zip…close…long zip…open and close, click, snap, bumbag zip open, then close, twice, unknown plastic clip, click…

…around about 8 of them..

Now the peripherals get firmly attached…floppy hat, click, selfie-stick, click, hand sanitiser, click, spare hat, click, spork(don’t ask!), click, click, travel umbrella, click, Go-Pro, click, handy sun-cream on a rope, click and not forgetting the ceremonial shell to be carried to the end, or God will strike you down, clunk, click every trip!

This is now generally followed by a continuous cacophony of loud scratchy high pitched ripping of Velcro straps as flip-flops and ‘not-yet-dry’ washing are then additionally secured. 

A grunt is emitted, and the slight sound of a dislocated limb clicks in the darkness, as 27kilos of the ‘Osprey‘s’ weight is lifted and manhandled quietly out of the room.

The door closes…silence at last!

Thankfully, the heavy boots are stored outside the room in racks.

…but wait, ten minutes later…

The door re-opens for the Orbital-style encore, a blinding 3000 lumen strobe light flashes around the room, silhouetting the Druid in full regalia, now, full metal jacket, loaded rucksack, complete with poncho, bandana and aviator shades with more gear strapped to them than an SAS soldier on a dawn raid. 

We now have the added thump of the newly fitted ‘goretex’ clodhoppers, clomping back into the room…

I am already alert to what the problem is, as Iv witnessed it so many times now…

The ghostly figure lurches back in and clomps, nervously, back over to the creaky, corner cupboard and opens it for the final time. 

At the back, stood in the corner, the bloody forgotten sticks are illuminated…

…having been far too obsessed with starting Strava, they realised after they had gone about half a mile down the Camino without them…FFS!

Now reunited, and with a couple more clicks, a slide, extend one a bit, a click again to re-adjust, then a clatter as the other one drops accidentally on the floor, it stoops awkwardly, now wedged in the small space between the bed and the cupboard, bends down, accidentally lets out a heavily laden fart, from last nights squid dinner, before re-adjusting a strap, clipping on another water bottle and banging the door firmly closed behind it, free to happily, clippity-cloppity off, totally oblivious, towards Santiago. 

Buen Camino!

No Outline…

 

Clarinha de Fão, a traditional Portuguese sweet. It consists of a half-moon shaped, deep-fried pastry shell generously dusted with powdered sugar, enclosing a sweet, rich filling made from fig-leaf squash jam (doce de chila) and egg yolks.

I needed to find this bad boy for breakfast yesterday so I’d did a short walk and found the traditional bakery that had been baking these longer than I have been alive. I’d read about these specialties and went to order one but when confronted with how many I wanted, I found myself saying ‘four’ for some reason and got a box full! 🐖 

I continue on, what has become, my leisurely coastal foodie cruise down the Atlantic coast of Portugal.🇵🇹 

This trip/Camino/challenge has been flexible and organic and has evolved on a daily basis, which has been absolutely the best way for me. I’m nearly there after clocking up 1300 kilometres and am only a few clicks away now down to the airport and home again.

This port of call was probably the best tiny family run bar I have ever spent time in, full of locals drinking beers and wines and enjoying Dad’s  ‘francesinhas’, so if anyone finds themselves here then go and have a glass or two at ‘Sarrante’ in Povoa de Varzim.

Ok, il come clean… I want to play this track, as it’s beautiful and been a soundtrack ear worm for me for this trip. This artist is a relatively new find for me (#6Music)but such a beautiful crafted song. Lauren Auder. 

A Good Heart…

 

I decided not to visit the iconic mountain top church that overlooks the town even though it’s said to be the sanctuary of the sacred heart ❤️ of Jesus. Why there would only be the remains of his left ventricle is beyond me?

 I did look back and it was impressive on the top of the hill.

But as Fergal Sharkey once told us , “A good heart these days is hard to find…”

Relaxed start as not far to go again today, the first job was to negotiate my way along the tiny path, just wide enough for a Brompton bag, across Eiffel’s road and rail bridge across the River Limia. 

The ‘Che Guevara’ shrine and emporium at a small bar stop was an interesting find.

After passing more wild orchids growing along the roadside, the second bridge of the day was over the Cavado River as I arrived at Fao.

Less than 50km away from the airport now so probably done more miles than Vasco da Gama on this trip. 

Well it’s 1985, Thursday night, 7pm its Top of the Pops and this is this week’s number 1….

East of the sun(and west of the moon)…

This is the second donkey 🫏 iv come across on this trip if u have been following the blog?….the first one had a really long face…😜

Today, following a few days respite, I’m continuing the journey slowly south, towards my eventual departure from Porto. A cloudy start again but still keeping the sea on my right. As I approach ‘Viano do Costelo’ the coast gets rocky and the cobblestones get more unbearable on my non-existent suspension. I walk…

As I approached, I couldn’t resist riding up the long, protruding length sticking out from Viana do Costello out to sea…🤐

Iv got to get my little hairy sticks over this erection tomorrow…the Ponte Eiffel, yes, also the maker of the famous landmark in Paris…so quite a trophy!

The ‘Bastoners’ were in town when I arrived and practicing in every narrow street and square.

 

A colourful lot of Catalonian stick dancers with little tinkling bells, like Portuguese morris dancers and equally as boring looking!

A bit of jazz today with a chilled Diana Krall track, with quite a clever link (IMO)…as DK is married to Elvis (Viana do)Costello..it’s not just thrown together!!…like the beer, it’s crafted! 

Steady as she goes…

“It is by riding a bicycle that you learn the contours of a country best, since you have to sweat up the hills and can coast down them”…said Ernest Hemingway.

“You have no such accurate remembrance of a country you have driven through as you gain by riding a bicycle”.🚲 

I read recently, that I actually stayed in the very same place in Burguete on my first night of the Camino Frances as old Ernest frequented, back in his day!

I’m thinking of switching the Brommie for the next bit down towards Porto ….

…but not sure what model to go for??

Anyway, no more hills, coast all the way as I prepare to leave the lovely Âncora tomorrow.

“Steady as she goes" is an idiom that means to maintain your current course, speed, or routine without making sudden changes or erratic adjustments. It encourages calm consistency and perseverance, especially in the face of ongoing challenges. 

A bit of Jack Black for today’s track in ‘one of his many bands’ this time, The Raconteurs.

This is the sea…

A ride up the coast to visit Caminha and a dip on the way back at Praia de Moledo. 

This is the sea…

This isn’t…

I heard it through the grapevine…

Day 26 now - The hillside hideaway is a perfect base to explore a bit of Portuguese life from and also a few days off not lugging all my clobber around too. A little bit away from the well-worn tourist/druid track enables me to shop, eat and drink in local spots and get a real feel for the place. 

Two streets back and busily frequented with local folk is usually a giveaway. This is where you can find local food at incredible value for money and to also to research, explore ad enjoy the wines grown in this area.

Vinho Verde is not a grape variety, but a unique Portuguese wine region in the lush, rainy northwest of Portugal. The name literally translates to "green wine," which refers to its young, fresh style meant to be consumed soon after bottling rather than its color. 

The Demarcated Region of Vinho Verde stretches across the historical Minho province from the Douro River north to the Spanish border. The Atlantic Ocean creates a cool, high-rainfall climate, keeping the landscape extraordinarily green. Vineyards are traditionally trained on high pergolas (enforcado) to keep grapes off the damp ground and prevent rot. 

What a song and a fantastic version here by Amy at her soulful best…with the added bonus of Weller and Jools…