The Cainfenton Trundle Bus: From the Lands End of Europe

We have just been to Cabo de St Vincente, the most south westerly tip, the ‘Lands End’ of Europe, and also the southwest tip of Portugal.

A view down the coast from 'Lands End' Europe

These guys are fishing off 'Lands End' for squid.....it must be about 150 feet down the cliff face to the sea!

That's some fishing line you got there Mr.

Over the past 2 weeks we have zig zaged our way down Portugal from coast to mountains to forest and back to coast. This period of our trip has been more about the coastal views and the inland countryside than historic monuments and churches. Portugal is and feels like a very safe place to be, so we have been doing a lot of wild camping and just spending time enjoying what the country and Mother Nature has to offer.

We spent 3 days camped by a Barragem, which simply translates to dam. Portugal, in an effort to produce enough irrigation for its inland farming, vineyards and orchards has dammed literally hundreds of rivers to produce these reservoirs, called Barragem. It is often possible to get right to the water’s edge and camp, and often, if you can seek out a nice quiet Barragem, to be there entirely by yourselves. We were lucky enough to find one such spot for our camp. We passed the 3 days and nights just watching and listening to the wild life spend the day around us. The only reason we left was because we were running low on supplies and fresh water.....ironic since we were camped on a reservoir!

Camping at the Barragem

Anyway the next stop was the supermarket to stock up. Now here’s a thing. We are making the shopping list and Fang, who loves her tuna for lunch, had managed to find a pack of 4 cans of tuna which are just the right size for a Fang lunch. They were also on special in the supermarket which is another thing Fang loves. She bought these in Spain and so has the Spanish/English dictionary out, ( we now have a French/English, Spanish/English & Portuguese/English dictionary on board), with one of the cans of tuna trying to work out what sort she needs to look for in a Portuguese supermarket. The next thing there is a screech from Fang and ‘you must be kidding’ or words to that effect but with more words......she has discovered in her translation that the cans of tuna are not really Fang size, but apparently just the right size for a daily portion for kittens.......oh yes, Fang has been on cat food for lunch. Tuna is no longer on the lunch menu, and whenever I mention it, which I do a lot, she goes green, and I don’t mean sorting her plastics from her paper either. Since then I have had to put a tray of kitty litter in the corner of the Trundle Bus and leave the window open at night so that she can get back in. On the up side I no longer worry about mice, although fur balls are becoming a fractious issue.

We spent our first night in Portugal at a town called Braga. Just outside the town is a place called Bom Jesus do Monte. Here we climbed the extraordinary baroque staircase Escadaria dos Bom Jesus. The climb up is made of a variety of staircases dating from different periods of the 18^th century. The lowest is lined with 12 chapels representing the Stations of the Cross. Each chapel has lifelike terracotta statues depicting the story of the crucifixion. Next the Escadaria dos Cinco Sentidos (Stairway of the Five Senses) feature fountains on each level with water gurgling from eyes, ears, nose and mouth of different statues. The highest is Escadaria das Virtudes (Stairway of the Three Virtues) with chapels and fountains on each level representing Faith, Hope and Charity. Climbing the stairways is a goal for thousands of pilgrims each year.

The amazing alter in the church at the top of the stairway

On our way south we kept passing loads of people walking along the road. We assumed that they must be on some sort of sponsored walk for charity, but there were literally hundreds of them strung out along the highway for miles and miles. The organisers even had periodic tent stations set up on the side of the road with food & water and medical assistance to help them on their way. It was not until we stopped at a town called Fatima, to have a look at its very impressive cathedral, that we got the story. On the 13^th of May 1917, three children from Fatima – Lucia, Francisco and Jacinta- claimed to have seen an apparition of the Virgin ‘more brilliant than the sun’. Only 10 year old Lucia could hear what she said, including her request that the children return on the 13^th of each month for the next 6 months. Word spread and by the 13^th of October some 70,000 devotees had gathered at the cathedral. Lucia asked the Virgin for a sign and just at that moment rainy skies opened and thousands of pilgrims reported seeing the sun turn into a whirling disc of colours that seemed to shoot rays down to the very earth. Since then on the 13^th of each month from May to October thousands of pilgrims from all over Portugal, and indeed the world, descend by foot on the cathedral in Fatima. We just happened to be going along the road to Fatima the 9^th May...how’s that for timing?

The cathedral at Fatima

As I write we are again camped on an absolutely beautiful beach in the middle of one of the national parks, surrounded yet again, by cool surfing dudes and dudettes.

Days end at our beach

A week or so ago we met with some English Brothers (The Fraternity of the Brotherhood of Motor Homers known as ‘Brothers’) who gave us some fantastic spots for wild camping.

One of the tips they gave us was to spend the night at a place that has a spring water font. Here we managed to fill our tank with fresh spring water, and do some washing in the washing house with washing boards used by women in the village and still in use to this day, we washed our clothes the way it has been done for centuries on this very spot.

Fang making like a local girl

For the last few days we have been working our way back north along the coast just going from beach to beach. I had my first dip in the invigorating Atlantic Ocean the other day. We decided to go down to the beach this particular afternoon as it was 28 degrees in the shade and about 40 degrees in the Trundle. As soon as we hit the beach I dash off into the ocean waves while the Fang selects a spot to plant our things......the next thing I see is my sun hat floating past me on its way to America. After performing a mid ocean rescue on my headgear I turn back towards the beach......don’t ask me how, but Fang has managed to find a spot on the beach, put all our belongings down and then get half of them swept away on the incoming tide, all in a matter of minutes. There she is scrambling about the beach pulling everything out of the water and back onto dry sand. Meanwhile, the sun bathers are all sitting up and scratching their heads in Portuguese and trying to work out how this mad woman thought it would be a good idea to camp on the water’s edge on an incoming tide on a surfer’s beach with 6 foot waves crashing in from the Atlantic Ocean. In order to retain some dignity I got out of the water, put on my soaking sun hat, and wandered back up the beach past Fang tutting in Portuguese about mad tourists.

Now talking of mad tourists, here’s a thing. About a week ago Fang needed a post office to get some stamps. We are travelling along and pass through this very pretty fishing village. I say to her ‘This is nice, how about we find a parking spot and have a wander around to find a post office’ ‘Good idea’ says she. On the way into town I had noticed that there was a big car park so off we go to find it, which we did. However, its market day and the car park is chokers with cars and market stalls and none of the spaces are big enough for the Trundle. So I am following this one way system around the car park trying to find my way out, when instead I find myself right in the middle of the market at a dead end blocked in by a market stall selling, among other things, dried figs. I have to say, I did hear some shouting going on but thought it was the stall holders shouting out their wares, not shouting at me to get my ruddy motor home out of their market. So, here we are in the middle of this market closely surrounded by market stalls and the only way out is to reverse. Now let me tell you something about motor homing, everything is very nice and calm until you send your partner to the back of the van with the instructions ‘just make sure I don’t hit anything’. Well........Fang is in the back of the van shouting out instructions in Fangees. The baker, the butcher, the lady selling vegetables and the one selling local pottery.....especially the one selling local pottery, are all outside shouting out instructions in Portuguese, and I sweating like a Portuguese pig on market day wondering if my insurance covers destroying markets in fishing villages in Portugal. Somehow, and this is another mystery, I managed to wend my way backwards put of the market without doing any damage, and we beat a hasty retreat down the road leaving a bunch of market traders, arms akimbo, and shaking their heads in Portuguese.

Some more extraordinary pictures of storks making use of a gantry on a busy motorway!