Faro – Portimão – Sagres – Praia Cavaliero – Carvalhal – Lisbon – Ericeira: 464 km

I’m back in the saddle, back on the pedals, back in the sun and the rain and the wind and the road. I’m taking a last look over my shoulder and wave at Marous and her van. I’m happy to have had this motorized interlude, but I’ve been waiting excitedly for the moment to continue my journey on two wheels. Now that it’s here I feel week. My mind is eager but my body not so much. I have a stomach ache. Ellen was feeling weird too yesterday and I think we might have eaten something off. But I push forward. Normally I eat like a maniac, but today I have to force feed myself. I manage to push out nearly 80 kilometres and decide to set up camp on the spot I met Ellen a couple of days ago. The crowd of campers has gone and only a few remain. I’m tired from feeling ill, but the camper people help me out. One of them hammers my herrings into the hard soil, while a couple in another camper cooks up some pasta for me. I overhear them saying they should take good care of me. It’s a warm bath after a cold day on the bike.

I wake up feeling even worse. The strong headwind and the heavy rain don’t help either. I decide to book a hostel in Sagres, I just really long for an actual bed. It’s a 60-kilometre ride, but every single kilometre feels like 10, and every minute like an hour. Luckily the hostel is perfect. It’s tiny. Only two rooms, and everybody there is extremely relaxed and welcoming. It feels like a little family. I rest, stay another night. Sagres is a surfer’s town. A place where everybody’s hair is always wet. On the exceptional occasion their hair is dry, it’s stringy like rope, naturally bleached by the sun and the seawater. It’s a good bunch of people, these surfers.

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As I leave Sagres I start feeling much better. Strong even. I say my goodbyes to the Mediterranean Sea that has accompanied me for the last 8 months and get back the Atlantic Ocean in return. I cycle up north without a real plan. I pass the most wonderful villages, places I could see myself grow old. The cliffs and are breath-taking, the beaches unspoilt. It’s much quieter here than in the Algarve. 90 kilometres into the day I come across a deserted small beach and set up camp on the sandy cliff that overlooks it. I obviously go for a swim. Perfect day. Back in my tent, over the sound of waves crashing, I hear the melancholic tunes of a saxophone. I follow my ears and come across four musicians. They sit on the end of the cliff, their feet dangling over the edge, playing the day away as the sun lowers itself into the waters on the horizon. I join them, and my already perfect days gets even more beautiful.  

The next day is pretty much the same. I ride along the shores, the sun beaming down, Portugal is impeccable. Every single plant is blooming, the flowers along the road remind me of the paintings of Klimt. Fields of red, purple, orange, white and yellow everywhere. I sleep on the beach again. Succulent plants grow out of the sand. The sea whispers me asleep, and gently wakes me up.

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And then, it feels almost sudden, I’m already in Lisbon. Here I join up with Ellen again. I’m happy to see her and Bruno walk towards me on the terrace of a bar on a corner where we meet. We park her car in the middle of the city, apparently next to an army base. They look at us wonderingly as they walk by in their flawless uniforms, Ellen and me brushing our teeth next to the car. They accept our presence. Ellen and I walk around the city for two days, making new friends on the terraces, playing chess – she finally beats me – taking bucket showers on parking lots and eating out. The city feels alive. Cars can hardly make their way through the crowded streets. Bars and restaurants seem to be always full. I never thought of Lisbon as a culinary city but eating and drinking is the main attraction here.

I would like to stay here just to eat in every single restaurant, but Ellen and me are meeting some of her friends up north. Ellen drives, and I cycle to Ericeira, another surfer’s town. Ellen takes my bags with her and I fly over the climbs and the gravel paths. Once there we swim, surf, ride our bikes, run with Bruno. We have pizza with her friends. It’s life in a fairy tale. And then it’s time for Ellen to leave. Her new job is starting soon and her life is about to turn back to ‘normal’. I will miss spending time with her. I’ve enjoyed her energy a lot over the past two weeks. But I’m not sad. I’m happy for this chance encounter, for her dog to eat my sock, and all the adventures that sprung from it.