Sortelha

March 31, 2012

north along the N 233 through Penamacor

The owner of Taverna Lusitana, located right near the top of the steep cobbled alley that winds through Monsanto, has been expecting me. The breakfast fare at my own B&B was meager, a small basket that had been handed to me by the proprietor last night: a small carton of chocolate milk, an apple and a slice of cake wrapped in paper, something I knew would dry out during the night. I'd expected more for my 40 euros.

A milky coffee and a generously sized toasted cheese and tomato sandwich covered in olive oil and chopped herbs sets me right. I kick myself for not trekking up here the previous afternoon and know this was the place I should have stayed. The young affable owner, a Lisbon native who's escaped the big city, says his room rate is the same. I ask him how much the dilapidated homes are in the village and he points to one across the cobbles that has been carefully renovated. It looks tiny - perhaps one bedroom and a bathroom with a small kitchen - and says the asking price is 80,000 euros and that someone will pay that before very long.

My bike is left outside the tavern. It's a short but steep trek up to the castle and my SPDs slip on the incline of the cobbles. Inside the high walls is a wonderful view of the landscape and it's apparent why the settlement dates back to Paleolithic period, with Lusitanian and Roman occupation , then the Moors, all having found it a strategic location - practically impregnable.

The mountains geological phenomenon - smooth, huge, house-size granite boulders - are incorporated into homes with their sides forming ready-made walls of smooth rock. Inside the tavern is one and I pop in for a second cup before getting my bike and making my way down.

It's almost one o'clock by the time I reach the road that will take me a bit further north, my goal of the day being Sortelha, around 60 km away: a good afternoon's ride.

The clouds that have lingered all morning and threatened rain that the tavern owner said was due on Sunday dissipate a little. He added it's been months - since November - since it rained. They need the water. Not me as my bottles are full from a spring.

My decision is to ride to Salvador. The M 566 is a small road according to my map, one which should have little traffic. And so it is, with inclines less strenuous than previous days, too, and with there being little to delay me in terms of scenery, I seldom stop to take photos.

I cycle into Penamacor, the biggest dot on my map, to find the hilltop town sleeping as has been the case with most places so far. On its far edge is a small supermarket where I buy a litre carton of fruit juice, and, once that's gulped that down, splurge a euro-fifty on a Cornetto.

My map indicates there are not be many shops along this route until Sortelha, not a sizeable place itself, but one that I know attracts tourists. The tavern owner gave it the thumbs up and suggested I take the approach road on its west side, then veer northeast towards Guarda, thus skirting the higher mountains and missing the town of Belmonte, which I'd originally earmarked as another historic hill town to visit.

The road heading east to Sortelha kicks up and I can't see where it's heading; the village is hidden behind the slopes. Instinct tells me it'll be a hard climb and so it is. The good news is the sun has finally appeared and is making the landscape a richer hue of colours; I walk the bike for a hundred metres at times, to cool off and also enjoy the scenery, safe in the knowledge that there's time to get there before dusk.

I head towards the castle, leave my bike unlocked, leaning against a dwelling at the foot of the winding cobbled pathway. The sun is low now - even though it's only six o'clock. A man seems to be risking his life walking along the distant high parapet walls, his silhouette looking like that of an ant's on the vast structure.

After trekking back, I freewheel into the village, soon see a sign for a place to stay and once there decide that the 40 euros for the room is okay. The place is a mansion - Casa Cerca is decorated in style with antiques and a polished wood floor. It's by far a more favorable option to camping, which is what I thought I might be doing as I made my way up that last climb.

Today's ride: 60 km (37 miles)
Total: 1,187 km (737 miles)

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