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TRANSPORTUGAL MARCH 2011. TRANSPORTUGAL

DAY 4. ALANDROAL-Mourao-MOURA-Ourique-Odemira. KMS 240

In Alandroal slept in a pastry-residential, a curious combination hospitality. The owner also let me park the bike in an annex to the inn yard, and even helped me with the maneuvers, as the bags bumped against the walls of the entrance and the matter was further complicated account. The next morning I saw clearly what was the parking:

Sleeping Alandroal course I had a little detour from the route, so the first thing I did that morning was to retrace my steps and go back to Capelins Terena and where I returned to the track. For good tracks

da Orada arrived at the convent,

and shortly after , following an old road,




Monsaraz I stood in another village monumental castle. Unfortunately, there was no time to waste visiting the town, just let me pause to scan the landscape and get an idea of \u200b\u200bwhat lay ahead of me:


Once completed

Mourao, we returned to the routine movement between private farms




and spectacular meadows.



At the height of a Farm village called farms began to circulate more narrow, on roads less clear, among vineyards and olive groves:

was here where I board a civilian :

"Come over here. Tens a gateway dated. Porta
-dated? But is it possible to continue?
-Mellor here. But after a slide rail tens dated and no chave.
"But I want to go this route.
-Umm. Sign in here. Grans rodas trator. Go mow your bike. First you see vens?
"Yes, go south.
-Bom voyage.

Total man encouraged me to get me through the olive grove, explaining that to avoid the closed door could move through the garden following a deep tractor ruts. The first ruts were in the right direction, then turned away, and then shot appeared dozens of alternatives, it was as if the tractor had made slalom under the influence of a hallucinogen. Thanks to the GPS can correct the course and to sense the output of the farm, and after a while, escape the maze olive.

The day was not bad at all, with glorious sunshine and local aid that we were leaving later.
Shortly after passing
Amaraleja the track became road, but only for about 3 miles. The road gradually descended into depression and suddenly re-emerged on track again. Then I got the explanation:

a nice ford across the River Ardila I expected.

would

by the station or by the recent rains, the case is that the Ardila came very full, and perhaps that ford was possible in the dry season, but that March day did not seem the most appropriate place to cross. I kicked the river in various directions, and saw that he could wade going from island to island, but in the end there was always a bit deep to reach the other side that frustrated the operation. In these cases, this is about the face that you have left:

Intuitively, since it had no map of the area (that bit was not importance was outside the planned route y del cual no me merecía la pena comprar mapa), marché por asfalto con rumbo noroeste, siguiendo de lejos la ribera del río hasta encontrar un puente. De camino reposté en Póvoa de Sao Miguel, y allí me confirmaron que econtraría próximamente un puente y la carretera hasta Moura, donde volví a las pistas,

atravesando, por cierto, un inquietante poblado gitano. Después de esta anecdótica travesía, el trayecto por las pistas volvió a su normalidad de caminos rectos atravesando fincas, algunas de ellas, restringidas:

Prohibitions of this kind and closed barriers made me lose a lot of time near Serpa. Soon I crossed the Guadiana bridge for good, not like this:

Indeed, a railway waiting for me:

I had a little trouble interpreting GPS information but everything pointed to the path would be peculiar, no doubt, we would head to the track.

Circular on sleepers was a torment. On both sides of the road a narrow path was suspected, but the weed, landslides, the narrowness of the embankment and the remains of the railway premises made it a mined road obstacles.

happened that the right scrip hit an iron pole camouflage behind a bush, I suddenly off balance and nearly crashing through the embankment. Luckily I have long legs as I stand on tiptoe in extremis, otherwise I do not know what would have happened.

For safety, and chastened by the startling news, I traveled on sleepers, a few hundred yards that I had to take a detour to the right. Followed tracks wide and endless villages, Quintos, Saved, Cabeça Gorda. Does the ground? Predictable: straight tracks between fences,

with their puddles,



and flooded areas.

Between Inputs and Castro Verde plains became more oppressive than ever. Also, I saw again through farm full of animals and their doors closed better or worse, that or did you stop to blink or you were forced to retreat.

From Castro Verde I chose to move along the service road of the road, and so continued until after Ourique.

The evening was close now, and I saw how my desire vanished reach Sagres and Cape St. Vincent that day. The ocean was still far away and I was running out of daylight hours. The end of the fourth day also meant the beginning of the return, so I had no aim other than the front cover as many miles and you had just fed up with bike that day. Would reach as far south as possible and veríamos hasta donde y, después, pensaríamos en volver a casa.

Cerca del pantano de Monte Rocha abandoné la vía de servicio y me interné por parajes cada vez más sombríos,

sombríos por la abundante vegetación y por la escasez de luz. Pasado Garvao hice mi último intento serio de seguir el track. Esta valla, un poco pesada, me detuvo inicialmente,

but took his courage and continued the march for caminuchos increasingly funny, until a barrier and night convinced me that it was time to find the road and find lodging. Fate led me to Odemira, dark city, industrial and somewhat desolate. The next day we would begin to return.

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DAY 4 MARCH 2011. TRANSPORTUGAL

DAY 3. CASTELO DE VIDE - CAMPO MAIOR - ELVAS - ALANDROAL. 270KMS

Well rested and with the tank top, started the third day covering the end of the track the day before I had left in the inkwell. The route snaked haphazardly and taking away from due south, seemed to be heading inexorably towards another village located on top of a cliff crowned by a castle, Marvao. After a few detours, I started to climb a difficult traffic lane except for off-road motorcycles,

and along said alley got to finish the climb to the very castle Marvao. The track suggested that the decline began at a dead end, which passed just ahead of the Republican Guard headquarters and also had a no trespassing sign except to residents. As there was nobody at the door of the barracks, I decided to make that gamble and throw down the street for a carefully paved road, steep and full of paella charged, a Roman:

I turned off the engine to pass unnoticed as possible, and quietly,




I reached the next town, San Salvador de Aramenha.

followed fairly straight tracks, and a left-hander, surprisingly the track forced me to go down the bed of a creek surrounded by vegetation.

I interned there with little more confidence. After a while of moving between puddles and bushes I came across a shepherd who made me understand that I was on the correct path. Soon I was climbing down first and then by mountain trails, crossing the Sierra de San Mamede.

Transit through that saw me shortly. Then I descended to the plains of what was to become in some way, crossing the desert: vast fields of Upper and Lower Alentejo. Esperança shortly after the problems started, cut a road sign at the beginning of a long line made me expect the worst. Surely some closed and barred the entry of some great "Herdade" but no, the water was what stopped me:

Find alternatives, but it was then that I found well-protected private land. Esperança had to back up and linked by road until Arronches,

and then to Campo Maior, watering holes, I returned to the track, and I checked with amazement pass saddlebag that rocked more than usual. One of the hardware was broken, and, though thankfully was fairly well supported in a recess of the subframe had to be repaired immediately.

emergency A priest with a spare belt momentarily solved the problem, but once arrived at Elvas, a moderately large city, I decided to look a tinkerer. The truth is that I found a body and paint shop as you walk in Elvas, and even here I could not repair, I went to the right place. As it was noon had not yet opened, so I tried to buy time to dismantle the whole rumpus until I got the artist and I rebuilt the rack:

He made me wait for an hour as he came home to eat, I suppose, but I solved the problem

and they do not charge anything I wanted.

More happy than Easter for the treatment and rapid problem solving, Elvas shotgun went in search of the Guadiana between fields.

I went for a gruesome way, with a shot of tractor so high that was dragging the bags about petrified mud ridges. Thought that such a path was impassable even for a 4X4, and that the landowner kept the way for no one dared get in his farm. And so it should be, because after a few hundred meters tractor that tilled the field next to me was, swerved from their place of slaughter and came to me, to say with gestures to turn around, the road was closed over forward. No mood to discuss, I was ready to make a U-turn, a task that took me a long time, for the plateau that separated the two ruts were so high that the bike was locked with a two-wheel or high (! !).

again touched back down. The following attempt to reach the Guadiana was similarly unsuccessful. A pastor and told me that going straight into the water and there was no way to continue along the shore. Another setback. The third attempt in the same direction promised more

but as abanzaba along the shore, the water level going down the road.

overcame a couple of flooded areas, but there came a time when the track was interned in a corral, where dozens of cows swirled, right where the door seemed to allow me to move on. From afar I saw it closed, and when I tried to approach the wall of cattle became even more impressive, so not wanting to get to deal with those critters, I went back one more time. Between failures and setbacks seemed that this would be my black day.

as I stepped back almost to Elvas and resumed heading south. Evening fell, and on temperature. Connect to the track shortly before Rosario, this time not by penetrating fields, pastures but similar to the previous day:

progressing at a rather slow pace, stopping to open and close many gates,

and when I knew it was that the track and followed a zigzag course and almost among countless meaningless farms, it was almost night. I decided to stray from the path that led into the GPS and, through a fenced adventure, join the nearest road. The risk lay in meet any locked door or chain, but still, I decided to venture out, looking for the straightest line I returned to civilization, through places like this:

Finally, after long minutes of tension, as in darkness, left the pavement and after a few miles to the south, appeared on Capelins. From there to the gas station in Terena, where I recommended approach to Alandroal, another city with castle, to find accommodation. The third was a bad day, no doubt.

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DAY 3 MARCH 2011. DAY 2 MARCH 2011 TRANSPORTUGAL

DAY 2. Navas del Madroño, CASTELO BRANCO, CASTELO DE VIDE. 24O KMS.

This was the shortest stage of the journey, and one of the most successful, for we understand that sometimes the amount is not incompatible with quality. After mounting the luggage on the bike (a routine that should expedite rather cumbersome) and the early hours of sunshine, I went Road to Alcantara. Last night I had deviated from the planned track, so when I tried to recover the original path, and the height of Villa del Rey returned to internally between muddy farms. A plainclothes guided me through a maze of doors and paths,

notable for the abundance of muddy sections,




where before reaching the water and wore the wheels six inches buried in the mud.

was when the GPS, as if fully Triangle, went mad. Marked what he wanted. Before leaving the hostel and had determined that the track appeared on the second day marked by a white line instead of the usual black, made it difficult sopremanera reading in the display. Just when I needed it, surrounded by bulls and lost on those farms with little reference clone, GPS betrayed me. After a few long minutes during which I tried several scans in different ways, all unsuccessful, decided to become a way he had come

and, as far as possible, enjoy the scenery that gave me that sunny day.




Already Alcántara, crossed the Tagus passing over an impressive Roman bridge of considerable height in its central pillar,

and soon after crossing the Erges, I stood in Segura, the first Portuguese village trip. From Segura Zebreira entretrenido followed a road, twisted and dotted of wetlands,

wooded




and steep.

continue to Ladoeiro, and here and connects with the path Trasnportugal authentic, charging the designs of outsiders. The landscape has not changed much, the typical meadows amidst rolling countryside, with its strategically placed puddles.

Some tracks allow ample advance at a good speed,




but then returned the humidity. Some did not pose major problems,

but others forced me to play a full, probing fords where you sank as if it were quicksand and opening the way the brush through my handsaw:

luck here and opened a passage between bushes and streams, thank goodness, I thought I'd have to backtrack. Bordering the River

circulating Ponsul and abandoned farms, finally came to this bridge:

At this point, and thanks to my lack estimate, had to detour a few miles up looking Castelo Branco fuel. I found the first gas stations were closed because it was Sunday, and could not find one open to me a few turns circling the city. Back at the bridge over the Ponsul, resumed the action off-road, road and Perais Lentiscais, this time touring areas increasingly hilly and forested:

In the dense forest and up and down hills I was in my natural environment.

I stopped in a village water supply. I also noticed looking at the church clock hours in the neighboring country is one hour late compared to ours, when I took to sync my clock with the Portuguese.

Perais
Soon after came the first Seridan firewall I found during the second day:



By far impressed
a little, then was not so bad.

After a while the road led to Rodas, smelly industrial city, where running quickly to follow a trail that skirted a swamp where the Tagus River dams along several kilometers .

The road was tortuous, entertaining and with good views. A good stretch this, no doubt.




Salavessa I went through,




and stock up again after water, I reached a new section of beautiful streets




and tracks / firewall




seasoned with their streams and wetlands,




which gave me new opportunities for reflection:

Subsequently, more labyrinthine forests

and thick.

Happy with the job done, I gave myself a moment of respite for tea in a cafe in Povoa and Piss, and more full stomach, I went back the caminuchos, the doors had to close and open one after another, the loss, the pools ....

... until, little by little I was closer to my destination, the strength of Castelo de Vide. Ascended by steep stone paths much more than this,




and almost without meaning I was climbing with the bike, cobbled streets climbing steadily to the top of the city, resulting in the door of the castle.




If I do this in Spain, feather me for driving on streets reservadas a los peatones, pero lo cierto es que no vi ninguna señal prohibiendo la circulación, así que continué en moto por la ciudad medieval.




Y, francamente, nada mejor que hacerlo a lomos de una moto, porque las pendientes de este pueblo eran de infarto,

Escarmentado de la experiencia de la jornada above, I started to look for accommodation before night fell. After dinner hosted and still have time to stroll through the old city,

and hence the envelope.