Markadia - Zen and the art of stand-up comedy.

I wonder how many places we have stayed over the years? This autumn will mark the tenth anniversary of our shoulder season travels. Among many other things, our journeys have spawned 837 blog posts, I know this because the Blogger app keeps a tally. However there is not a simple correlation between places stayed and posts written. Some pieces cover more than one destination and of course there are many places we have returned to frequently. Some because we like them - Seville, Valencia, Bologna; others out of necessity, such as Calais, Basel, Clermont Ferrand, Dreux or Lille - all somewhat tawdry but unavoidable; places to traverse in order to get somewhere else. 

Taking a guess - since 20I4 I reckon we must have stayed in well over 500 different locations. So it's unsurprising these days that we are not given to exuding wide-eyed amazement every time we arrive somewhere new. We are not bored by travel, it's just that spending more than a third of of our lives on the road means being part-time nomads is normal, its simply part of what we do.

Not always though, from time to time we unexpectedly stumble upon somewhere that strikes us as hauntingly beautiful, life-affirming, destined to live long in the memory Maybe this is what Wordsworth was referring to when he wrote about 'spots in time'. It's probably the case that what strikes us as memorable has as much to with being 'in the moment' than in the place. So the fact that our two nights in 'Markadia', a rural campsite in Portugal's sparsely populated Alentejo, happened to coincide with two days of perfect English summer weather in mid-February probably had as much to do with our effusive reaction as the delights of the place itself.

Still, it is a special spot. A TripAdvisor review from 2016 nails it.

It's fashionable for sites to brand themselves as offering 'eco-camping' these days. Usually it's simply a marketing ploy to appeal to millennials by providing overpriced yurts, pods with hot-tubs or optional mindfulness sessions with forest bathing.

However, Markadia genuinely is a place where you do feel closer to nature. In many respects it's unremarkable, a simple site spread along the shore of a remote reservoir - Barragem de Odivelas.

However there is something very alluring in the way the site hugs the shoreline among clumps of evergreen oaks, each pitch offering an entrancing glimpse of the mirror still water. The pitches are not defined, you can park where you wish so long as you are at least 10m from your neighbour. In practice, because the site is big - 10 hectares apparently - out of season it can feel like you have the place to yourself.

It is profoundly peaceful. During the day, the utter tranquility is only disturbed by the sound of kids happily running around. It's a seems to be wonderful place to bring children. Our visit coincided with the German mid term school break so there was a mix of families, young couples and retirees on site. A diverse bunch of campers is always best.

I presume the Markadia name is meant to conjure an image of Arcadian bliss, which in most cases might tempt you to dimiss the notion as a crass marketing pitch. However there is something a little blissful about the place. The water quietly lapping, the low, knarly oak trees, which when silhouetted against the lake, take on the look of a Japanese woodcut. It all feels profoundly pleasing. I found myself wandering around aimlessly, just photographing this and that...

Another Hokusai style tree -

Reeds and the morning sun reflected on the lake -

A spectacular sunset -

In amongst all this mooching about a snippet of Yeats kept bothering me - a line about 'peace dropping slow from the veils of the morning'. Maybe it is from 'The Lake Isle of Innisfree', I wondered.

Google to the rescue. Yes that's it, but I'd mashed up two lines -

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,

And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;

Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,

And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,

Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;

There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,

And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day

I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;

While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,

I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

Yes, the poem does display a naive Romanticism that the poet later eschewed, but undoubtedly some places can achieve momentary perfection and their profound tranquility is sustaining and life-affirming. For us, I think we will remember Markadia like that. 

That being said it was not an exercise in 'Zen mindfulness' all the time. Parked next to a lake I decided it was an unmissable opportunity to further hone my skills as a stand up paddle boarder. In fact I already can display a wide range of paddle board skills, most of them in fact, apart from standing up 

Pumping the thing up - 8/10 (hyperventilation and double vision afterwards - work in practice).

Paddling towards the far shore like Hiawatha 9/10 (lacks feathered headgear)

Standing up 0/10

Gill watched on as I paddled about for a while, attempted to stand up for the umpteenth time, then...

Finally I gave up. 'The new two piece wetsuit seems good', I observed cheerily. 

Gill glanced up from her phone, "I've just been reading that Bill Bailey is a keen paddle boarder." Then added, "He needed lessons to teach him how to stand up."

She may have a point.