Tag Archives: wild camping

Day 43 – By popular demand

Days feel like they are getting longer again. 36 hours after waking up, I can hardly remember all that has happened yesterday. That’s why we take thousands of pictures, I guess 😉

The night was calm, even though not quiet in the literal sense. I don’t know if the waterfalls steady roar helped, but we slept well. Not too cold and most importantly undiscovered and undisturbed. Breakfast was as lovely in this place as was dinner last night – although Nina might make an exception for the mozzies that came out in force while it was a bit overcast.

Everything needs to be packed

Number 3 dutifully obliged us on our drive to Santiago de Compostella with sleep. With the awkwardness of this being a place known primarily for being the foremost Christian pilgrimage destination looming over us, we decided to treat this as we would any other city. Sights, good food and a bit of walking to get the feel.

We did. The first thing we noticed was how much more familiar the old town felt. Heavy stone buildings that befit the Galician climate much better than would the more iconic Mediterranean and Andalusian styles of Spain and Portugal. It frankly looked a lot like home, or at least France. We decided very early on not to go into the Cathedral – we had seen our share and many more recently. The outside was … well, the usual. I guess the majesty of it all comes more to the forth after 60 or so days of pain to get here.

“The Camino” (spoken mostly in an obnoxious American accent) and general pilgrimage kitsch was omnipresent, even though not too many pilgrims arrived before lunch. On the main plaza, there were maybe 50 who just now had arrived, mixed in with a lot more tourists and people recovering. For some reason, and I will not muse too much about it out of respect for our friends who have walked the Camino themselves, I felt strong rejection welling up in me about this whole pilgrimage thing. Even though I know it is by far not purely religious (better, Catholic) thing anymore. Read up on it and make up your own mind, I guess.

We turned our attention to more relevant things for us: Food! There was a hip recommendation next to the city market halls. We headed there after a brief stroll over the market. We sat down with drinks, looking forward to some exceptional tapas but were disappointed soon after. Not a single vegetarian offering – fish, seafood or meat. I was OK to call it there, but Nina urged me to at least try some. So I went with cockles and the fish of the day offers. The portions were really no more than appetizers, but the quality was exceptional. The best clams I ever had were good enough that Number 3 helped me out quite a bit – to the surprised eyes of any onlooker. The seared fish filet was absolutely spot on as well.

Footpath inscription

After that brief delay, I was ready to go with whatever Nina would decide on. We stuck with our other choice, the one we had discarded earlier due to their late lunch hours. We only had to kill 20 more minutes, but then were the first in for lunch once more. The place was definitively more our vibe. Nina had homemade ravioli while I went with the waiter’s recommendation of pork in Galician cheese sauce without bothering with the menu. Actual lunch was good, too. We rounded the whole thing off with a sampling of the local pastry of choice (Santiago Almond tart) and the best coffee I’ve had in a while.

All that was left now was to make a bit of distance north, to end up in striking distance of our next goal, the highest cliffs of Europe. We reached our chosen camp by 4 and decided to push on a bit further and to stay on the coast for one more time. This time, everything worked out.

  • Packing up the camp site in the morning
  • Number 3 enjoyed our private waterfall
  • Everything needs to be packed
  • Goodbye campsite
  • Detail of a railing or fence of the cathedral in Santiago
  • Top of one of the towers
  • Gate of Santiago
  • A cool sign in an alley around the corner from the cathedral
  • Number 3 testing his strength again a small chain
  • We enjoyed the European flag flying next to the cathedral
  • He invented a game for himself: Pick daisies…
  • …run over to the fountain and put them up there
  • Urban explorer
  • Why does it have to be so hilly? I need a break!
  • A taste of great seafood
  • Must have been good. Baby ate six of them
  • Number 3 planning our next moves out of the carrier backpack
  • He pulled himself up on the bench
  • Footpath inscription
  • Hippie lunch place
  • Back at the ocean
  • A bit of a sunset
  • How we camped

Day 42 – Off the record

When we got up in the morning, it became clear: The trailer right behind us wasn’t abandoned. Oh no, we had camped right in someone’s “frontyard”. No wonder the voices seemed so close and also so amused last night. So far, nothing moved inside. We decided to pack up and have breakfast somewhere else, feeling very uncomfortable with staying in the spot we were in.

It took us until 8.15am to get ready to go…when we were halted by a closed gate, a closed reception and no one around. Flo suggested to leave 10€ as payment and then just go but the gate turned out to be locked. We couldn’t get the car out. A door for pedestrians was open however so we decided to wander around, looking for a café to have breakfast in. “Pastelaria da Ponte” was exactly the kind of thing we were looking for. It provided much needed coffee, treats and some space to get over the embarrassment that we invaded someone else’s sphere with camping last night.

one of many waterfalls on the way

We were back at 9am, sure that now we definitely could leave. The reception was still closed but miraculously, the gate was now open. Plus, a lady arrived at the same time as we did and she offered to take our payment. So we left. Having at least paid someone.

It was our last day in Portugal. Flo had picked a route through the mountains of the National park as our last bit of route and a pastelaria at the end as well. The drive was scenic and full of surprises. Suddenly everything seemed wetter, lots of green plants and waterfalls around. Number 3 slept through all of it so we just enjoyed the ride.

He woke up when we stopped at the pastelaria. I think, he’s got a motion sensor in his bum or something stupid like that. As soon as we stop, he wakes up. Flo had made sure that it was a decent bakery where we would buy our last pastel de nata but everything looked so good that we ended up buying a little extra as well as bread for our picnic lunch.

It felt like lunch time already so we had an eye out for a good spot. Flo then found a sign pointing to a picnic area. Following the road which turned into a dirt road and then into a rugged dirt road…we decided we must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. But the landscape was beautiful just maybe a bit of shade would be nice for our break. Finally, we arrived at the picnic area which was by a stream with patches of birch trees and…cows. Well, young steers. Luckily, they were a bit away from the benches. I am not sure how interested they’d gotten into our lunch otherwise. We thoroughly enjoyed lunch, ending with an orange as dessert. Number 3 had a language update and does now repeat words. Oranges in particular seem to be to his liking so he often asks for them. For some reason he has decided that they are called “ayah” and cannot be dissuaded despite Flo’s and my best efforts of telling Baby that this is an orange.

Soon after, we crossed the border back into Spain. The border was ridiculous. Just a tiny, single lane bridge with the letter “E” carved into it. We are officially on our way back. It feels weird and also appropriate at the same time. Seriously going to miss pastel de nata though.

perfect spot for a break, right?

The camp ground of choice was close to a National park, not too far from Santiago de Compostela which we want to visit tomorrow. We arrived there at 3pm and looked forward to some planning of what to do on our way back. The camp ground was closed down. Not closed just now, not for the season, no just permanently closed down. The forest was very pretty though and a little river ran next to the road. We shortly discussed what to do and looked up the city camp ground in Santiago de Compostela which was the only other reasonable option. So we drove on for another 50 meters and then Flo turned around. It was 3.30pm now, the optimal time for coffee and tea and we even still had the last pastel de nata with us. So we stopped and had the best coffee break in a prime location just for ourselves. An hour passed, then nearly two. We kept finding reasons why we needed to stay a bit longer: It was so nice here, Number 3 needed to run around and explore a bit longer, the city camp ground was probably ugly and loud so it is better to spend some time here…

Finally, I stated the obvious thing. If we ever wanted to wild camp on this trip, this was probably it. We wouldn’t find a more convenient place or time to do it. It was one of Flo’s not so secret wishes that he wanted to wild camp as we had done on Home to Home. Here was the chance. Probably the only one I would grant him, so he leaped on it.

While exploring the track with Number 3, he came upon the picture perfect camp spot, next to a little waterfall. Other people had used it as a camp spot in the past as there was a little fire pit made of stones and a tiny play hut made out of dry branches.

So we stayed there. For one night off the record.

  • our gate crashing site
  • one of the two briges from here
  • just a great day
  • green all around, with springs to boot
  • down there, we camped
  • a great road as well
  • one of many waterfalls on the way
  • we actually crossed the border three times today – portugal – spain – portugal – spain.
  • more granite formations
  • reminds me of menhirs
  • views on the hilltops around, back in portughal
  • great road through the high mountains
  • final village in portugal
  • off road commuter car? Go go Blue George!
  • Nina loves cows 😉
  • no time to waste
  • everybody enjoying our lunch spot
  • right, finished
  • Number 3 testing his new skills
  • Who? Why .. this is for kids?!
  • I love europe. This is how we leave Portugal
  • perfect spot for a break, right?
  • first, some hot beverages
  • where might this track lead to?
  • the perfect camp spot!!
  • With our own private waterfall for the night!
  • almost cover shot material? It was a great spot, anyway!

Day 33 – Cherry on top

Today was one of those days that we are craving for on our trips. It started a bit low – even though our camp was very nice. But Number 3’s newest software upgrade is a bit labour intense. Him running away without thought or fear made for a rather slapstick packing time. He felt perfectly comfortable walking alone all the way to reception some 100m and 20 stairs up and then be escorted back by the owners when he fell. Somehow, we still managed to cram in a shower for both of us.

great way to bring the mood up

The route for today was another matter: There is a recommendation far east which would add at least a day before going to Porto. We are already on our final 10 days in Portugal, based on our rough outline. Will it be worth it? Weather was supposed to get a bit worse again. At the very last minute, I made the call to go east.

Our day improved steadily from there. After crossing over the reservoir lake near Tomar, we drove for about two hours along mostly windy backcountry roads. Good choice to avoid toll roads once more. The weather got better and the landscape wider and dryer the higher we got. We re-upped at a supermarket along the way. That allowed us to have a picnic lunch somewhere off the highway down a lovely track through a pasture.

The sight we’re aiming for was a fortress and village named Monsanto. In my mind, the last 50 km drive through Beira Beixa were a sight of their own already. Gently rolling hills strewn with granite boulders and fieldstones of all sizes. Very rural, with lots of open spaces dotted with eucalyptus, olive, orange and cork trees. There was a campground in the area, but if something would come up – this would probably be the best area for wild camping on our trip so far.

the touching bolders from above, and another granite hill in the back

As the steep hill with Monsanto flowing over its side came into view, we got really excited. We could drive almost all the way up, got a good parking spot and were ready to explore soon. Our goal was to find a nice café and chill with a coffee and pastries and take in the village atmosphere.

It did not work out like that in the best way possible. We started exploring along the excellent signposts and felt like up first would be a good plan. Signs with “touching boulders” and “castle” started to show up. We climbed through the village build organically into the hill and the huge granite boulders strewn about when we sort of popped out on top. From here, it became a little hike through a magnificent granite boulder field. We continued on all the way to the very top. Ruins of previous settlement and the “creative restauration” of a Templar castle waited for us there. The view from the highest point were splendid. This granite hill stands out in an otherwise rather flat landscape. One can see other peaks like this in the distance – used back in the day to build up a defensive chain of fortifications against first Moorish, then Spanish intrusion.

pastries found!

It was getting right time for coffee by the time we were back in the village. We popped into the first place we found inviting and were lead out to one of the coolest terraces we have ever been on. The restaurant was built into a boulder, and the terrace was on the side of another one. Only about 10 seats here, but we got the best spot (in our opinion) overlooking the village and down into the surrounding lands. But the positive surprises did not end here: We ordered our usual, but got interrupted after “pastel” … when they arrived, it turned out that the local speciality is a pastry similar to pastel de nata, but filled with a cherry flavoured custard instead! There were ripe growing cherries right next to our seats as well. It was magnificent!

With spirits soaring, we got back to our car and made our way to the campground nearby. It was a municipal camp, but almost deserted at the moment. We enjoyed the stiff spiel from the civil servant at the reception and were positively surprised one final time when the price came in at 8.90€ – the cheapest stay yet. That made not wild camping go down a bit better for me. We even managed to get a load of washing done before bed time (and before running out of critical … bits).

  • 5 minutes off the road
  • weird things happen
  • great way to bring the mood up
  • there it was – castle and village
  • all embedded in rolling farmland
  • out of the car, excercise!
  • Boulders were integrated into the village all over
  • already great views, half way up
  • the high mountains in the bach are our goal for tomorrow
  • those two came down from 100m above
  • big and small, strewn all around
  • the touching bolders from above, and another granite hill in the back
  • only a little bit up to the castle
  • chapel for the dead, at one point
  • no handrail, not for Nina
  • All the way up, showing Number 3 the world
  • from the upper yard, views peek over the wall
  • towards … pastries!
  • pastries found!
  • yea, this is cool. Now feed me more pastries!
  • We do everything but sleeping outside – so there is alway a bit of a gipsy vibe going in our camp

Day 21 – what‘ up, beaches?

Time to leave. Even though this place invites a much slower pace, as do some of our fellow travellers. This is just what we do. Besides, to get around we pretty much need to break camp – and once we do so, we feel we might as well be moving on. Coming back to the same places, no matter how nice they are, often feels like treading water.

So we pack, slowly – say our goodbyes and are off again. Distances are still minute – thus we took the scenic route via smaller winding mountain roads. Near Monchique, we saw widespread tracks marked by the aftermath of the regular wildfires that hit this region, to the frustrations of the locals. Tragic it is, but as in Australia, I must say that a post-fire cork oak growth looks pretty spectacular. Especially one year after, the contrast between the charcoal black tree trunks and the fresh green leaves and grass is a striking sight.

Not much in the mood for lingering, we decided to move on to our first destination. Today was set aside for beaches. Several of them, actually. The first one, Praia Dona Ana, was in a bit of a doubtful area to begin with. Nearby Lagos is a fully “developed” tourist destination, still mildly less dreadful than most of the Costa del Sol. The beach was pretty much in line with that. Dramatic sandstone formations all around, sure. But we have seen this before. Even with relatively few “rotisserie chickens” as we call the usual beach goers, there was this lingering air of high season over crowdedness. Our travel elitism did not help either – we have seen probably 100 beaches by now. Some of them so near perfect that it is hard to compete.

We let Number 3 enjoy the sand for a while – took a couple of photos and decide to try our luck elsewhere. The little one found quite the liking to smooth sand and seashells. He was definitively more apprehensive when it came to the sudden cold rush of a wave flowing past his calves.

Next stop would be the fort of Sagres. It’s situated on a sandstone spit where generations of sailors said farewell to the homeland one last time before journeying across the Atlantic. Given our continued bad luck with Lonely Planet food recommendations (permanently closed, once again), we chose the cliff as our lunch spot. A pretty great one in my mind, but even 10 meters from the drop and with Number 3 properly secured on my lap, Nina could never quite relax to take in the scene fully.

We even enjoyed the change in weather, reminding us a lot of New Zealand and the many changes throughout the day back home in Wellington. We like the sun, but often times a lot for the shade that comes with it. Beaches and cliffs in direct midday sun can be surprisingly unwelcoming to pasty white central Europeans.

The final stop for the day was the highlight as well, for sure. The rougher Atlantic west coast makes for more dramatic scenes and also keeps the touristy types to an acceptable level. Instead, we moved into dude (as in Surfer Dudes) country. Much more overlap, I would say. The very first stop at Praia Da Bordeira landed us at the unofficial camp spot of the beach. It seems most of them have one of these around here. This time of year, they are almost exclusively the domain of surfers and more rugged parental leave families (with some overlap of the two groups). We are still happy with our set up, but places like these bring out the longing for a self-contained vehicle. Then again, they would also not have been any good on the bike, so where is the loss?

We wandered around a bit from here first and found that we were still far in the dunes, at the river meandering its way to the ocean. Great place for Number 3, since there are no waves here – so he got a lot braver with the water here, and his diaper paid the price 😉

We hopped in the car one more time to go on a little further to a set of viewpoints on the cliff and the actual beach access. The views were beautiful, and even the sun showed her face a couple of times cheekily through the clouds. We could have lingered a bit longer, but it was time to find a camp and cook dinner.

With no great options around (confirmed by the lot of Elternzeit families we met) we chose close and cheap. The camp was actually pretty cool. A grove of Eucalyptus big enough for 120 lots with only maybe 20 stays at the moment. Plenty of safe space for Number 3 to roam around while I took exceptionally long to prepare spaghetti al arrabiata for us.

As I wandered around a bit after the little one was brought to bed, I stumbled into the camp of some known faces: Johannes, Maike and their two kids made it here as well – having secured a quiet corner far off from a lot of hassle to stay a bit and explore from here. They send me off with a tip to check out the local beach, which was not on our radar yet. We took note and will probably give it a try tomorrow.

  • blackend trees green again
  • Blue George playing ralley car again
  • everything is green and flowering
  • a beach
  • a bit sheltered, but this is the Atlantic. He was having none of it
  • sand, much better
  • Sandstone in the foreground, city in the back
  • ‘edgy’ lunch spot …
  • … I am a dad now, dad jokes are ok!
  • minimum allowed distance from the edge
  • Two cars far away from home
  • “oh, this water is fun now?”
  • “Up!” “you can walk” “Up!”
  • Look, there are sticks here, too!
  • there is a lot less slack in the new pair of these pants …
  • what a place to camp!
  • nose into the wind
  • wwwrooosh!
  • prime seats
  • something is off with these new dry pants …
  • whole beach with the river in the back
  • the dudes
  • properly teaching wreckless behaviour

Day 299 – Moving on (and on …)

Hotels in towns have become a luxury for us by now, so after two nights in Trabzon with patchy weather, it was nonetheless time to move on. We used all the time to sleep in and get ourselves organized though. This included changing the brake pads around, taking the dodgy pair I got gifted way back in Pattaya, Thailand and swapping it for the most worn one. The Transalp uses CBS, which means that the foot brake also operates one of the two front calipers, which in turn wears faster.

Finally a shot of the main building without a school class

Finally a shot of the main building without a school class

On our way out, we did a brief stop at Trabzon’s version of the Aya Sofia. This one is a 10th century church, build on the same site as a roman temple that got converted into a mosque, ammunition depot, museum and now mosque again over the last 10 centuries. We mostly learned how to squeeze through endless high school classes armed with selfie sticks.

Then, we were back on the coastal highway. Riding is really smooth, even through the regular little showers coming from the grey sky. Soon enough it was time for lunch. We bought some supplies and found a really nice picnic spot right at the sea. We sat down, enjoyed our lunch and amused ourselves with the innocent romancing of high-school-aged teenagers.

No break without a hot cuppa :)

No break without a hot cuppa 🙂

We had no real goal until Cappadocia, 660 km down the road. So soon enough, we were faced with a decision: Take the shortest route now, or follow the fast coastal highway for another 100 km, adding 50 km to the trip. We made the call as the rain started back up and turned inland. The particular pass we chose turned out to be a bit annoying, because it was in the process of being upgraded to two lanes per direction. To make matters worse, it really started hammering down about half way in.

Flo decided to wear plastic bags over his shoes to stop the water from leaking in

Flo decided to wear plastic bags over his shoes to stop the water from leaking in

Thoroughly soaked (the Compañeros held true, but summer gloves and old boots not so much), we made it to the high point of the pass at 2200m. We had passed through the rain by then and at least up here, the sun was out. Not too much consolation, though, as it was pretty cold.

We still stopped for a bit right after the pass to have a chat with two huffing and puffing pushbikers on a snack break. Tristan and Francesco from Switzerland are on their own epic journey from Europe to central Asia (and beyond for one of them). We swapped some anecdotes, snack food and tips for our respective roads ahead before going our way to secure a camp spot. In parting, we heard they will be looking for a guidebook for Iran, so we quickly dug up our Lonely Planet and donated it to their cause. Definitively a much better use than collecting dust in our future home. Godspeed guys!

Lovely guys (just) starting on their journey: Tristan and Francesco

Lovely guys (just) starting on their journey: Tristan and Francesco

As we got lower, it got warmer again, but so did the clouds return. In the first town after the pass, we stocked up on rations again and soon after were in full camp spot hunting mode. The rain made it tempting to look at the hotels, but the idea of spending another $50 did not appeal to me at all. We got lucky anyway – off the main road, then a side road and into a dirt track we found the perfect little ditch in the pastures that could not be seen even from the little track.

We set up our tent in the light drizzle and soon gobbled up our dinner. Risini noodles and instant sauce made for a surprisingly good and hearty meal and a nice change from bread and cheese. Time to keel over, exhausted. 440 km to go till Göreme …