AWW 21.11.2007 Monte Seco(nd) Time Around

:- or Mudlarks Abroad.

Leader: David

Present:- Mike, Chris, Paul, Myriam, Hilke, Brian, Ian W, Ian S, Terry M, and John O’, who were disappointed with the weather,
Plus Tiggy, Maddie, Oscar and Nandi, who were not.

Track of the walk in pink. (Click to enlarge.)

Statistics:

Distance: 25k. Walking Time: 6hrs 6 mins. Total Time: 7hrs.
Walking Average: 4.1kmh Overall average: 3.6kmh Total Ascent: 711m Max Elevation: 353m

(Text by A.D.C.B)

This walk was billed as the second training session for RTC, and Field-Marshal Paul expressed some disappointment that a number of those due to walk the Long Walk were not in attendance. Most had sent valid sick-notes, however, and were excused. We wish all sufferers a speedy recovery. (Especially since I woke up with a cold this morning).

All arrived in good time for coffee at Casa Benjamin, enabling a reasonably prompt start, held up only by Photographer Myriam who insisted on dragging everyone out from the shade of the carob tree for the initial snap, and enlivened by the sight of Ian S rushing to hand over his peace offering to Mad Luiz (he of the Big White Gate), as the latter left home at his usual breakneck speed.

The Starters and Free Parking!

The walk began in clear sunny conditions with not a hint of the deterioration to come. Nave do Barao was reached in excellent time, and the Leader managed to find his way on this occasion up the correct side of the ensuing hill to reach the trig point at Picavessa, although everyone got thoroughly wet in the process as a result of pushing through bushes still laden with water from the previous days’ rain.

The climb to the first TP

The rocks at the summit did, however, serve to clean off boot soles caked with several centimetres of cloying red earth gathered on the climb. As this was the only trig point scheduled on this revised version of the walk, the customary photo took on an even greater significance and the usual inordinate amount of time.

Picavessas TP

The descent to Ribeira do Algibre was made much easier than previously by the discovery of a new track down to the valley floor (let’s hear it for Google Earth). On the way down the road to the river, a curious sign was noted, sitting against the windscreen of a transit van. A prize to the first person offering a good translation of the phrase ‘Slurry Elastico.’ I don’t really think I want to know.

The Power of Advertising!

The climb to Monte Seco was, as usual, strenuous. The GPS seemed to have a mind of its own on this section, leading to a slight disagreement between Leader and G of GPS as to our previous route. Unusually, other walkers were encountered on the climb – two Brits, one of whom the Leader thinks he offended by suggesting that he came from Yorkshire, when his county of origin turned out to be Lincolnshire – oh Horror!

The 'Two-stick' Technique


The 'Shillelagh Lift'

Reaching the still mostly deserted village at the summit led to another slight hold-up as the group negotiated its way into the settlement, and to a brief debate re. lunch. As last time, it was decided to press on downhill to the river crossing before making a halt. The walk along the valley to the Algibre crossing saw everyone picking up more red earth on their boots, and the river was completely dry,(compare with last time) so the only recourse was once more to scrape the awful stuff off on convenient rocks. Lunch was taken with some walkers sitting in the middle of the dry river bed recalling rather moister crossings on previous occasions. At some point, someone idly pointed out the rather ominous black cloud advancing from the west.

The once raging Algibre!


Lunch on the river!

Ten minutes after the restart the cloud did what clouds do,

A few drops of rain!!

and the AWs got their first rain of the winter, which lasted on and off until the road at Alto Fica was attained – not without a slight detour, as the Leader became over-confident and took a track which led to a firmly shut green gate. This obstacle overcome with a little lateral walking, the iron-willed band once again fought off the temptation to enter one of the two bars at Alto Fica (there has to be a parallel with Greek mythology somewhere), and pressed on.

Hoodie!

More mud was picked up and deposited on the way towards the last steep climb, to the hill overlooking Nave do Barão from the north.

It even stuck to little boots!

The very rocky ridge path was rejected in favour of a newly discovered but excellent track about two-thirds of the way up the slope, which led all the way to Portela da Nave. The final two kilometres back to Covoes would have been unremarkable slog had not the rain started again, reaching a climax with a brief cloudburst just as the group got back to Casa Benjamin.

Chez David aka.Benjamin

Outdoor refreshment being impossible in the circumstances, all crowded into the kitchen for the post-walk beverages, while Tax Collector Myriam went about her grisly duties prising breakfast dues out of unwilling hands. The prudent had brought a change of clothes, while the rest stood around looking like refugees from the Western Front. Let’s hope that RTC is blessed with better weather!

Finally, I have noted that the quotations rounding off the blog entries have become more and more erudite of late. In order to counter this insidious trend, I offer the following, with profound apologies to Flanders and Swann:

Mud, mud, red Algarve mud

Boots get so heavy when walking through crud

And so on wet Wednesdays, best keep to the highways

Or you'll disappear into gloo-oo-tinous mud.

CB's notes:- This blog was a joint venture between Trainee Assistant Deputy Chief Blogger (T.A.D.C.B.) 'Updulator' and myself, with regard to my absence for the whole of December, and the maxim "The Blog Must Go On", and can be deemed moderately successful since the only instruction he had was 10 minutes after the walk when we were both more than a little weary. I look forward to him 'Going Solo' if John H. (D.C.B) does not return before the 5th December.

It really was one of the toughest walks we have done for a long time, made doubly difficult by the mud and the slippery rocks, so the 9 of us walking today who have committed to the RTC will reap copious benefits from the adversity - if we recover in time! As for the other 6 - they will have to rely on true grit and the spirit of the RTC to pull them through! I confess I rather limped home and slowed the group up over the last 7 km from Alte Fica, but hopefully a service of my ankle's Universal Joint will be fitted in this week!

On the climb through the bushes towards Picavessa I am sure I heard Ian S. mutter "I'm a Celebrity - Get me Out of Here"!

It was very brave of David to invite the sodden and bedraggled group into his home for much needed refreshment, especially as Dinah wasn't home yet to survey the damage. A temporary lifting of morale was occasioned by application of a selection of beers including the nutritious 'Bohemia", only to be cruelly dashed a few hours later (for some of us) when Croatia knocked England out of the Euro championship Qualifiers on an equally rain sodden pitch!

I couldn't resist this little quote from O. Henry:-

" Bohemia is nothing more than the little country in which you do not live. If you try to obtain citizenship in it, at once the court and retinue pack the royal archives and treasure and move away beyond the hills."

How true - how true!!

AWW 14.11.2007 The Forest and Further

NO PAIN - NO GAIN was the mantra for this 28+ km walk, but unfortunately the 'pain' from the previous walk had resulted in the 'loss' rather than the gain of several members, notably Brian, Antje, Rod and David. To be fair, some were stepping down from this walk as a precautionary measure, or because they did not fancy falling face-first into the soup on a social function booked for that evening. Iron Mike had sounded a preliminary forewarning that he had a slightly damaged hamstring as a result of high-stepping over brambles, but added that he would turn up and give it a go, and he not only made it in good shape, but he survived beyond the dessert at the social function!

And so 14 of the hardiest turned up at Barão São João Cultural Centre Car Park for the walk which was billed as 'Speed/Endurance training' Antje delivered Chris and took the opening group photo, and joined us with Hobo for the first section to the Parque de Merendas, before going in search of coffee and other delights. Stan and Elaine, fresh from the High Andes, and looking very fit chose this walk to make their season debut, and Ian W. managed to persuade Alex to join, probably against her better judgment.

Leader: Paul
Present: Myriam, Mike, Chris, Mick, Sylvia, Ian S., Ian W., Alex, Andrew, Lindsey, John, Stan and Elaine
Dogs: Oscar, Nandi, Tiggy , Maddy, Shorty and Hobo (for the photo call)

Stats: Total Distance: 28.4 km; Moving Time: 5 hrs 45 min; Total Time; 6 hrs 30 min;Moving Average: 4.9 km/hr; Overall Average: 4.4 km/hr; Total Ascent: 606 m.; Max Elevation: 176m.

The track. (Click to enlarge - may take a minute or two)

We followed the blue line above. The red section was an extra loop I could have thrown in to achieve the 30 km. but I omitted it rather than having a mutiny about stopping late for lunch. I wanted to reach the '22.5 House' by lunchtime, and a certain amount of under achieving on the early part of the walk meant that we would not reach there until shortly after 1pm even omitting the loop.

The only Trig Point of the day (Photo Obligatory) shortly after emerging from the serpentine path through the Forest

In truth, the walk was almost incident free, as I had purposely chosen good paths for rapid progress, and although the overall climb was significant, it was rarely steep or precipitous. This was the one 'river crossing' and it was good to see that it was still there and provided water for the dogs. No one fell in, although I had the camera poised, particularly when John was traversing the stepping stones.

Tiggy and Oscar also found a way through the gate into this pool.

Calls for lunch started at about 15 km into the walk, just before the only steep climb of the day up to the Radio mast. I deemed it wiser to stop after the climb, and pressed on until we reached the 22.5 House, whose logo is in need of renovation, and we sat on the banks of another small reservoir for a well-earned break at about 17.5 km.

The dogs were very attentive!

Munching away!

Stan had obviously become accustomed to the services of Sherpas or such on his travels, and he had engaged Elaine in lieu to carry the family pack, while he strode round unburdened and regaled the walkers with tales of altitude and exotic places. Mike was glad of the new company, as he managed to engage in a fierce political argument about Afghanistan or Iran - while other walkers either accelerated or slowed to preserve their neutrality or apathy.

After lunch I led the group out on an extraneous loop through some abundant medronha plants and we found ourselves at a dead end overlooking a valley and some new Wind Fans over towards Espinhacão de Cão. Ian S. immediately claimed he could see a good path down the precipice ahead, but was overruled by the shorts wearers and those still healing from last week. Soon after this we came across a huge area of land clearing and path widening, and realised that there were more wind powered generators planned in this area.

Mick met a couple of 'Porco Preto' who asked him the time!

Before long, and after a short cone-gathering session for those too impoverished to buy fire starters, we had the outskirts of BSJ in sight. Of course the pace accelerated a tad, but I had great faith in Myriam as tail-end Charlie, who had been comprehensively briefed on the mysterious workings of the Walky-Talky with which she had been entrusted! Nonetheless, as I chased vainly after Ian S. and Mick, through the calçada of BSJ village, the latter received a phone call from Sylvia alleging that she and Alex were lost. He promptly handed the phone to me with the words "It's for you" and sprinted off after Ian who had gained a few metres advantage. I asked Sylvia where Myriam was, but they couldn't see her, as they had unwisely stopped unnoticed to remove some irritant from Alex's boots. Being a caring leader I advised her to head for the sun, and turn right when they met a 'T' junction, but luckily they met Myriam before they followed this advice, as they had already reached the main road, and would have been in Barão São Miguel before they reached the 'T' Junction.

And so with the sun sinking slowly in the west, we reached the palm tree bar, and because it was my walk, it had been selected because it also stocked Sagres Bohemia - and we all were very happy!

To finish, a quote with a South American flavour, to welcome Stan and Elaine (who don't read this blog) back from their travels:

My God is the God of Walkers. If you walk hard enough, you probably don't need any other god.
~Bruce Chatwin, In Patagonia, 1977

For those that don't know Bruce Chatwin, he has been something of a model or influence for my blog style! It has been written of him:

" Chatwin is admired for his spare, lapidary style and his innate story-telling abilities. However, he has also been strongly criticised for his fictionalised anecdotes of real people, places, and events. Frequently, the people he wrote about recognised themselves and did not always appreciate his distortions of their culture and behaviour. Chatwin, however, was philosophical about what he saw as an unavoidable dilemma, arguing that his portrayals were not intended to be faithful representations; as Nicholas Shakespeare, his biographer, argues: 'He tells not a half truth, but a truth and a half."

AWW 07.11.2007 Madrinha Maddyness (or another bloody walk!)

A cracking day, sunny, blue and cool - just the job for a stroll up Foia and Madrinha with Ian S. intending to reacquaint Maddy with the location where she was rescued by Maurice a long time ago. Ian had adopted her and was determined to conduct a photo shoot to relay via this blog to Maurice and Esme, now in UK. The photo below has all the elements required: The subject (Maddy), her Best Friend, (not Oscar - the one with the scabby knees, trying to get down and hold a squat), Madrinha Trigpoint, blue skies. and even a disinterested CB looking the other way!

Maddy back at Madrinha!

All this was much later in the day, soon after the bramble-delayed lunch, and you can read a couple of versions below.
First the Official Leaders version. The Leaders always have their opportunity to open their defense in a reasonably uncensored manner in this Blog. Some grasp the nettle in both hands and make a good fist of it (to mix a metaphor or two), and others err on the factual side. Ian, in what may well be his debut contribution, has adopted the oft-repeated tenets of a Good Report:- A, B, C, - Accuracy, Brevity, and Clarity. Well one out of three was as much as I could expect. Here it is in English as she is wrote!:-

Present,paul, myriam, david, alex, ian w, hilke, mick, sylvia, vitor,dina, brian, lindsey, andrew, chris, antje, mike, yves, rod, ian s. Dogs, shortey, nandi, oscar, maddie, tiggy..On a sparkling autumnal morn we set a brisk pace up through the picturesque byways of Monchique, by the convent under the stately cork oaks & on up to Foia.Decending on a northwesterly track we skirted the small triangular barragem & headed west with the impressive terracing on our left hand side looking particularly enticing .We thus decended under sun dappled eucaliptus to a crystaline stream,a truly bucolic setting.A short contour along an impressive terrace followed by a sharp ascent & we arrived at a perfect lunch spot on a rocky outcrop with stunning views to the west. Here we were joined by Rod for a bravura cameo performance via Madrinha & back up the now barely discernable track under Foia, after which it was every man/woman for themselves for the rundown to refreshing iced tea at the ever inviting helepad. Please note my powers of recall are on the wain.

Now I would be derelict in my duty as CB if I left it there and didn't provide a colour commentary and meaningful analysis and insight into the actual events of the day. Are you sitting comfortably? Let's begin at the beginning....... Once Upon a Time ......

.......at about 0930 in fact, a group of unruly sheep met at Café Descansa Pernas near the helipad in Monchique, where their shepherd for the day (Ian S.) was charged with finding some good pasture on the hills above. The Good Shepherd was away meeting his wife at the airport, but had promised to find the flock towards lunchtime on the fertile slopes near Madrinha. Shepherd Ian S. had allegedly traversed this route before, and had conducted much R and R (Research and Reconnaissance) in the area, so the sheep were led contentedly up the hill through a shady wood, where some, feeling the heat, shed some of their wool. (No Hilke - not that photo!!!)

The newly shorn sheep (note the Shepherd has not cast a clout!)

The route to the summit of Foia was steadily up and fairly uneventful. A veritable forest of aerials have been built to replace or even supplement the profusion that were there already, and the sheep hurried past to avoid infertility or even worse! The sheep dogs were looking forward to their usual dip in the limpid pool near the top, and were disappointed to find it had nearly dried.

'.......Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood......'

but they made the most of what there was! It was soon after this point that the Shepherd decided to try for pastures new, and led the sheep on past the neat track that led to the verdant terraces on the other side of the valley.

The spectacular terraces, rivalling those at Machu Picchu

The flock continued down the north side of the valley, as it gradually became steeper and wider. The shepherd spotted a narrow path plunging into the woods, and with a cry of recognition said "This goes in the right direction!", and commenced the tortuous descent.

'.........Where Angels Fear to tread'

Never let it be said that the Leader sent his troops where he was not prepared to go himself. There are about 200 varieties of thorn in the Algarvian Flora and before we reached lunch, the Leader had had close encounters with about 177 of them, each of which had left their own distinctive mark on one or other of his carelessly exposed shins. Our Senior Member, having actually learned from his decades of experience, rolled his trouser legs down, and by pretending to tie a shoelace, achieved a position in the rearguard of the procession, thus ensuring that most of the thorns had been used up by those in the vanguard.
There was a temporary respite at the bottom of the valley, where a hardy farmer, surprised by our sudden emergence from a hitherto impenetrable thicket, greeted us, and confirmed the Leader's conviction that Madrinha was "Up there".

The Shepherd can be seen on the right of the above picture, carrying out another recce, while his flock wait nervously in the gully, waiting for the photographer to complete her descent!
By this point, the CB had been in comms with The Good Shepherd, who expressed surprise that the flock had been led into the Valley of Despair, and undertook to proceed by expressway to a suitable vantage point near Madrinha and above the Lost Patrol, where he could monitor the progress with a mildly amused smile on his face.

"They winced among Untrodden Ways"

By this time the lunch hour was upon us, and failing to quell a small rebellion when he suggested it be taken on the steps of an active piggery, the flock joined up with Rod, and took lunch and licked wounds on a rocky outcrop below our final objective, which had superb views of the DNA trail we had just left behind.

Lunch rocks



Bloody but Unbowed - the leader's legs. The front view was deemed Unsuitable in case sensitive people read this Blog (Unlikely I know but Rules are Rules)

Soon after lunch we made the summit of Madrinha, where the photo at the beginning of the blog was taken. It has changed somewhat since last year as it now has a splendid hi-tech watchtower erected beside the old one, whose demolition was clearly not included in the contract!

The Old and the New

Although it can't be seen in this photo, there is a machinery enclosure at the bottom of the enclosed column supporting the new watch tower, and it was speculated that there may be a lift inside the shaft.

Myriam climbed the old tower to get this great Obligatory Trig Point Photo.

Two of the new radar defence towers on Foia can be seen in the background. Our Defence Correspondent confirmed that they are part of a chain of Euro Defence Radar Installations that stretch across southern Europe, and are designed to give Early Warning against attacks from the Zimbabwean Air Force to the south.

From here it was a fairly easy hike back to Foia, except when we found that not only had the Defence Radar been built right across the path we traditionally took, but that the gorse on the western slope had recovered with a vengeance from the hill fire two years before, and again wreaked havoc with exposed flesh. A short stop was made where the final 23 varieties of thorn were extracted from calves and socks, and we bade farewell to Rod who returned to where he had left his car not wanting to risk the Leader throwing in a barbellate loop on the way back to Monchique.

Antje checks for bristles

The way back down was without much incident, being much the same as the way up, except when the leader and Mick threw in a spurt in an attempt to reach the bar first, and shook off all but 7 of the group, the rest being left to find their own route to the fold. I was just glad that I had the presence of mind to wear the Rohan Kevlar trousers, and so had emerged relatively unscathed. It just remains to include the route map:-

The track (click and wait to enlarge)

...which somehow fails to convey the essence of the walk, and the sense of achievement of the survivors. If only we could measure blood lost and skin flayed!

From the stats below, it can be discerned by the overall average speed and the total ascent that it was fairly tough, and definitely will have had a beneficial effect on the fitness of those participants that survive the Black Thorn fever and the gangrene. I did raise the point, as we sat in the café swilling our lager that if this was Day One of RTC we would still have another 12 km to go, but by then the group were in a merry mood, as survivors often are when the danger has passed.

Endgame in the balmy evening sun!

Stats: Total Distance: 18.3 km; Moving Time: 5 hrs.; Total Time;: 6 hrs 33 minutes;
Moving Average: 3.6 km/hr; Overall Average: 2.8 km/hr; Total Ascent: 821 m; Max Elev.:898 m.

"But, good my brother, do not, as some ungracious pastors do. Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven whilst like a puffed and reckless libertine himself the primrose path of dalliance treads and recks not his own rede."
William Shakespeare

AWW 31.10.2007 - Halloween- it ended in tears!

A rarity these days, David, with the able assistance of Terry A. had surveyed an all-new route from his haven of domestic bliss in Covões to Alportel, a lateral walk. This required extra organisation in that some cars had to be left at the destination to enable our return to base. A few last minute subscribers contributed to the stress, and Andrew and Lindsey were co-opted to rendezvous with David at Alportel (I did say Alportel didn't I?) and leave their car there. Somehow, Alportel lost (or gained) a little in the translation and became São Bras de Alportel. The rest you can guess, but no harm done it just meant that Dinah had a little more time to entertain the punctual walkers with coffee and biscuits - come to think of it, I missed out on the biscuits!

The Coven Gathered!

There were rather a lot of cars at the start, which placed a strain on David's parking area, not least because the house next door is being built, and builders trucks were coming and going. Rather than park next to the site, and risk dust on his immaculately maintained Renault, one walker looked for an alternate park in a niche just down the road. Of which Horror story more later!!

The Lateral Track followed - click to enlarge.

David's Ghoulish Report follows:-

Covões to Alportel by Broomstick (We Wish)- A Halloween Tale

Chief Wizard: David

Witches and Warlocks:- in order of confirmation

Ian S, Rod, Paul, Myriam, Sylvia, Mike, Brian, John O’N, Chris, Antje, Lindsey, Andrew, Dina, Vitor, Ruby (visitor)

Familiars:- Tiggy, Maddy.

The coven gathered at Casa Benjamin and partook of the black blood of life before departing 20 minutes late due to the tardy arrival of the broomsticks. (They hadn’t got used to the new autumn schedules).

Chief warlock of the day DL led the party on an easy descent followed by a cruelly early climb to the only trig point of the day, at Passarinhos, above Mesquita. All the magic in the world could not remove the scrub from around it, so the customary photo was abandoned in favour of a rapid descent to Mesquita, across the main road and into the no-man’s land above the Fonte de Benémola gorge. The hunter’s path discovered by DL and Terry was a real hit with the party, enabling the ritual shedding of blood to begin in good time.

What happens to a Tilley when an (All) Black Wizard casts a spell!

Despite one or two slight errors in route-finding, no doubt due to white witch interference, all went well as the fiendishly talkative band wound its way across the valley towards Monte Negro. One ancient member seemed terribly anxious to climb the said mountain to recover some long-forgotten spell he had left there, but was dissuaded by the rest who had no stomach for the climb. At one point it seemed that a new familiar had been discovered, but it turned out to be a tin donkey decked with flowers and only suitable for YET MORE PHOTOS.

Tin Donkey shyly hides behind Mike

Calls for lunch went unheeded as the C.W. wished to press on to the highest point of the walk, over the watershed between Corte Garcia and the valley leading down towards Alportel. Further ritual bleeding took place as an attempt to find a route up a (nearly) dry river bed ended in a scramble for the track, which had been there all the time.

Look!! No hands and only one leg!

John O' fighting an imaginary bull along the river bed!

As the long valley track unwound, kilometre after kilometre, with no sign of any gradient to speak of, it began to be whispered that perhaps the C.W. had been bewitched by greater powers, that perhaps his taste for the steep and stony had been extinguished by The Spirits That Protect They That Tramp – But NO!! With one bound he was free, and led the hapless straggling crew up a steep earthen path, ending in a huge step up which each had to be dragged by despairing comrades (who writes this terrible garbage?)

The ever gallant Mike helping our youngest lady!!!.....


...while David and Andrew need to 'double team' to help Antje clear the step!!

After inspecting an imposing ruin at the top of this hill and finding it disappointingly empty of bats, toads and black cats, progress was made by narrow paths towards Alportel and the Nectar of Oblivion. Witch Myriam cast a spell on a defenceless peasant woman, compelling her to part with a sprig of a plant with which to carry out dark and dangerous ceremonies. – watch it with that trowel, Myriam.

Alportel Botanical Society discussing fertilisers!

Finally, happy witches and warlocks both sat down at Café Vitoria (get it right, David) to await the arrival of the multi-seater broomsticks which would whisk them back to their respective caves. Even the tinkling of the church bells failed to disturb their pleasure – and the landlady gave us peanuts too!

A shady café with a spacious terrace

On returning to Casa Benjamin, it appeared that Warlock Ian had displeased a Great and Mighty Evil One by parking his MS Broomstick across the former’s runway. Prayers of appeasement were said by Witch Myriam after other brethren had been threatened with horrible curses, and ritual offerings will be made to ensure the return of harmony.

You would not believe the time I spent writing this trash – over to you, Warlock Paul.

The Creative Muse certainly visited David, as his above report hit my inbox at about 2300 hrs on Wednesday night! However, the stress and strain of the Incident of the Invisible Gate (henceforward known as "IanGate" had clearly preoccupied him as he made a couple of minor omissions in the story of the walk.

First the Crossing of the Fonte Menalva near Fonte Benemola. Someone had thoughtfully provided high designer-concrete cast stepping stones over the river which was at least 40 cm deep in places! We all know the problems that witches and warlocks have when crossing water - but these paled compared to some of our present coven!

One 'witch' skipped lightly across the 'High Road'...

...while a senior wizard was almost a blur!....

.....but a Leprechaun opted for the 'low road' and a refreshing footbath!

The other was the lunch break - an often controversial issue of timing and length, which our Chief Wizard deemed unworthy of record. A shady spot was eventually found - a little tardy for some who had been on the road since 0730 to this far-flung walkers paradise. Rod was pretty relaxed about it -

..striking a nonchalant pose for trainee paparazzi Andrew.

A convenient bank made it easier for some to get up after lunch!

The introduction, by Vitor and Dina of an attractive young Australian lady, Ruby, who was 'Gap-Yearing' round Europe, was a cause of much posturing and chest puffing by some more ambitious (or perhaps deluded) male Wednesday Walkers (whose wives were not on hand to impose reality on the situation):-

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Click on pic for special effects!

but she was a polite young lady, and kept her opinions to herself, accepting gallant offers of assistance over every tiny obstacle, when she was in a better position to help the helper! Anyway, we think she enjoyed the walk, and her vocabulary is no doubt richer, as is her acquaintance with Algarve expatriate affairs!

Towards the end of the walk, we approached Cerro de Alportel where this magnificently purple Bougainvillea was overhanging the fence, and I couldn't resist a photo:-

A 'Purple Patch' to complement the 'Purple prose'!

IanGate:

As mentioned at the beginning of the blog, and no 'D'-notice having been received at Blog HQ, Ian S., no stranger to controversy, had arrived early at David's gaff, and either for reasons of his own, or to protect his car from building debris. decided to park just along the narrow road in what appeared to his early morning eyesight to be an appropriate lay-by backed by a white painted wall. Unfortunately neither David nor Dinah were on hand to witness this very accurate piece of parking, which, we discovered on our return at around 3 pm, to be neatly across the sole entrance to the neighbour's property. By 3 pm this poor maligned gentleman was in a state of apoplexy!. "I am the Chief Architect of the Loulé Câmara" he expostulated and I have lost two major opportunities to extract Euros from grateful builders" he raved, handfuls of hair raining from his head. This did not seem to impress Ian S., whom we know has been insulted by far better people than a minor Câmara official, but muttered threats were made about bulldozing the offending vehicle away, and calling on his cronies in the GNR, so Myriam was summoned to mediate. However he was presently inconsolable, huge portions of his manhood having been seemingly cut away by his inability to drive out through his gates that morning. A friendly builder who had been forced to make the journey to Covões to pay homage, as the architect could not get to the meeting, did see the funny side, and (well out of earshot of the suffering victim) opined that "Isto passa!" I did think of asking Myriam to remind him about Mohammed and The Mountain, but decided that as I would have to cover the incident journalistically, it would be better to maintain a strict neutrality. I was unable to find a Paparazzi bold enough to snap the invisible gate with the foaming prisoner behind it at the time (if only John H. had been here!), so have to rely on spy photos taken by US satellite after the event.

This space looks free!!!

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"It is a short walk from the hallelujah to the hoot." Nabokov, Vladimir