Portugal unplanned

We never planned to end up in Portugal this trip, but it's not raining here, so here we are. Though we have road maps, we have no other information about the country; in effect we are just following our noses and heading up the central coast from one all year ACSI site to the next. Most are large chalet and bungalow style sites in the pine forests behind the dunes with a soundtrack of invisible waves. Many are owned by a chain called Orbitur. At holiday times they are probably manic, but now they are eerily empty with a few motorhomes scattered between the pines. The first site at Nazaré was independent, but the last two at São Pedro de Mar and here, at Gala, a couple of kms. south of Figueira da Foz are both owned by Orbitur. I think, in terms of cleanliness and quality the chain sites are better. The Nazaré site was more than a little gritty.

In some ways, having had a plan to go north in Spain, with researched places to visit, then suddenly having deviated from, it seems to have wrong footed us a bit; it almost seems like being at a loose end. Not that we have being doing nothing, it's just the somethings are somewhat random and opportunistic, which, up till now has not been our style of travel.

So, here's a smidgeon is our unexpected Portuguese somethings.

1. Nazaré - Pinewoods and Wind Turbines

After we got back from cycling around town we had lunch. What to do with the afternoon. I had noticed a way-marked hiking trail leading inland across the road from the campsite gates. Gill wondered if another track might lead towards the sea. Sure enough, the receptionist pointed us in the right direction. A sign nearby read Praia Norte 3.5km. That sounded do-able. What we had not considered was the fact the path was mainly soft sand, that made it really hard going. After around 3km of walking through the woods we arrived at a string of eight massive wind turbines. I've never actually stood directly underneath one, there is something slightly in-nerving about them close up; I'm not sure why. Anyway, we decided to make that do; a round trip of 6kms through soft sand seems exercise enough for one afternoon.

sandy path through the woods

with lovely small purple flowers that we have no idea about

nor do we know the name of the very prevalent yellow bushes

big wind turbines by the coast

a bit spooky up-close

2. São Pedro de Moel - To the Lighthouse, The Waves....

It would have been good if the lady from New Zealand that we fell into conversation with had turned out to be called Mrs Dalloway, but she did not introduce herself; the lighthouse that we went to was good though. As were the huge waves crashing against the cliffs just to the north of São Pedro de Moel, where the campsite is situated. A bit of low key tourist development surrounds the old fishing village by the beach. It's a pretty place, visited by locals as a nice place to spend a Saturday afternoon - families, couples young and retired, motor bikers, and the occasional Northern escapees, like ourselves, all intermingling by the seaside cafes and stalls selling popcorn.

big lighthouse

big cliffs

big waves

big beach

big smile!

big bikes

stumpy tree!

Sao Pedro da Mar - pretty seaside place.

3. Gala - A wild empty shore...

Driving the shortish distance - 71km or so - from São Pedro to here at Gala gave us our first real experience of driving on Portuguese trunk roads. It's not a relaxing experience. The road surfaces can be rough and pitted, the signage eccentric or non- existent and the drivers are opportunistic and unpredictable. It's not exactly nerve wracking, but you do need to be vigilant.

The Orbitur campsite is just off the main road between Marinha Grande and Figueira da Foz. Though it's next to the main road and only a few kilometres short of the fairly substantial port of Figueira, it feels remote, partly because it is almost empty, but also the forest setting makes it seem miles from anywhere. The facilities are good, and what is great is the rear gate leads to a 500 metre path through flower covered dunes to the beach.

Today, though there was scarcely a breeze the surf was roaring up the sands. At high tide the waves swept-in as far as the foot of the steep dunes, sending you scampering up the slope to avoid getting wet feet. Apart from a couple of line fishermen in the distance we had the place to ourselves. The beach shelves steeply; though the waves trickle up the shingle slope innocuously enough, merely a few yards out, you are faced with a 10 foot wall of foaming white water - spectacular. The beach stretches for miles. You can't see the end of it as it is lost in a silver mist of spindrift. This give the town to the north a somewhat spectral appearance, adding to the sense of solitude.

Camped beneath the pines

Path to the dunes

guess where it ends up?

Looking north towards Figueira da Foz

Looking south towards...Senegal?

We decided to walk down the beach. It had all the hallmarks of a deserted shore, large twisted tree branches, bits of broken lobster pot, the inevitable line of plastic bottles at the tide-line; it even had its very own Man Friday. We had only walked a few hundred metres when a naked figure appeared on the dune in front of us. Like a lot of beaches in Iberia, you don't have to stray far from an access point before you hit a beach that has been colonised by naturists. Today, in the sun, with the ocean roaring before you I can appreciate how standing naked before it might give someone a sense of the sublime - puny humanity before the might of raw nature. In this particular instance, the Rousseauian, noble savage trope was somewhat undermined by the naked chap's bright green Crocs. I commented to Gill that I should report him to the Portuguese Naturist Society for bringing the movement into disrepute. Gill however was more empathetic, taking the view that the preponderance of broken glass in the dunes may explain the chap's jaunty footwear. I can't see this, because if I was stretched out starkers on a dune, getting a splinter in my foot would be the least of my anxieties.

A branch from Brazil?

Back to the van. We spent the rest of the afternoon in the Sala di Convivio, the only place with wifi on site. We searched the weather apps trying to second guess the best days next
week to visit Salamanca. I updated the blog and uploaded some additional photos very slowly. At the last minute we decided to take some video of the waves at sunset, by the time we got to the beach the sun had set, but the evening sky was very beautiful, with a thin sliver of a moon and the first stars popping out in the velvety sky. I am glad to report that whatever my Rousseauian sympathies, I resisted the urge to strip-off and stand before the magnificence of creation.