Portimão – Monchique – Faro: 0 km (of cycling)

The holidays in Portugal have secured a long weekend for everybody. When I drive onto the free overnight parking it’s packed with campers and locals alike. I ride my bike. Take a swim. Have some food. Satisfied with life, I make myself a sandwich and have a beer, when, with the speed of light, a dog catches one of my socks and runs off. I try to get it back, but my efforts are in vain. This still young dog will outrun me every day of the week. Before long a girl shows up. His owner. After a couple of minutes half the car park is trying to get my sock back. We’re just adding fuel the fire. This little doggo, later I learn his name is Bruno, sees it as a game. All this attention, amazing! A good 10 to 15 minutes later, I have given up my sock by now, the girl gets a hold of Bruno just before he swallows it whole. Half her arm in his face, she pulls the sock out and walks over to me. She hands me a slimy rag and introduces herself. Ellen.
“Want to come for a drink? It’s the least I can do. I’m over there with some other Swedish people I met.” She points to group of campers with tables between them.
“Sure. Give me a minute to put on a sock!”

They’ve all met each other on the road. Their caravan getting bigger with every camper they pick up. People leave, people join. These are the people I’ve been fantasising about meeting. We’re spending the night together drinking, music loud, playing chess, talking about life on the road. A little haphazard family that makes me feel at home. Ellen and me are taking a liking to each other.

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The next morning breaks in a big day. Not for me per se, but today is Paris – Roubaix, arguably my favourite bike race of the season. I’ve done my research and found a little bicycle café 50 kilometres up north where I plan to watch it. I invite Ellen. To my surprise she says yes. It must be boring watching cycling if you don’t care about it. But this is exactly how I’ve gotten to know Ellen. As someone who is up for anything. Her enthusiasm for everything new jumps off of her and it is contagious. Always up for anything. It shows in her van too. She hasn’t really converted it. It’s a people’s carrier, and there’s still a row of chairs in the back, her tiny bed and closet behind it. Her kitchen is a wooden plank that she hangs from her door on the outside of her van. It all illustrated what I admire about her; don’t overthink and overprepare, let’s just go! Ellen is the kind of person that groans with every bite when the food is good and doesn’t care people hear her. The kind of person that cries a little when nature is overwhelmingly beautiful. I like her.

The race is beautiful. The village, Monchique, possibly even more so. Here, up in the mountains, the Algarve has a completely different feel. Without the beach, the tourists disappear too. People greet each other on the street. Old ladies slowly walk up the steep narrow streets. We’ve parked our cars up on the mountain a little out of the town. Out of the mountain flows natural water. The view is incredible. We wake up with a sun that rises out of the sea and casts a million different shades of blue and green over the hills beneath us. We can’t leave a place like this after just one night. So, we stay another one. We ride our bikes around the mountains into the forest. Bruno is happy to run around with us. We play chess. Watch the sun set. Drink wine.

The time has come for me to return the van to Marous. It’s bittersweet. I love this little green old-timer, yet I’m more than ready to start cycling again. I’m happy everything went well. I’m grateful for this experience and the trust and generosity of Marous that made this adventure possible. Ellen and I drive back to Faro, spend the night slowly walking around, eating fish. She leaves the next morning, rides off to meet her Swedish crew again. I clean the van and make it as welcoming for Marous as possible. I pick her up from the airport and she’s filled with a newfound love for Turkey and its people. I’m happy about that because Turkey holds a special place in my heart too. That night in Faro marks the end of my van-life experience. The morning will bring me back to my bike, and hopefully somewhere along the road to Ellen too.