Beja - Vuelta a Iberia - CycleBlaze

October 28, 2019

Beja

We didn’t see any of Moura last night, so we budget an hour this morning to look around town before setting out for Beja.  First though, we swing by the supermarket to pick up lunch.  As we pull up to the store, Rachael reminds me that we need to find an ATM.  How fortuitous!  As I lean my bike against the store’s wall I look up and see one staring me in the face.

While Rachael goes shopping for lunch, I go shopping for cash.  I don’t get far though - when I insert my card, the ATM informs me that the transaction is rejected, and instructs me to withdraw my card.  Which I would be happy to do, if the damn machine would just eject it.  Futilely I punch every button on the control panel, to no avail.  We’ve lost our card.

A bit panicky, I dash into the store, find Rachael, and beckon her to come outside to watch the bikes while I seek assistance.  There’s none to be found though.  The store doesn’t operate the ATM and doesn’t have access.  I have to go to the bank, which thankfully is just a half mile away.  I bike off, leaving Rachael at the ATM in case someone else comes, uses it themselves, and somehow our card comes out.  (Someone eventually does come while she stands by, and the infernal device eats their card too.)

I’m at the bank for a half an hour as several possibilities are aired and tested.  It’s impossible today, because they can’t contact Lisbon until tomorrow (huh?).  I explain that I won’t be here tomorrow, so they take my name and number and suggest that they may be able to get it to the bank in Beja by tomorrow.  Then they rethink, make a number of calls, and finally tell me retrieval is impossible.  They instruct me to call our bank and have the card canceled.

Damn!  There goes our nice, 16 day AFD streak that we were so proud of.  It’s not a catastrophe though, because we’re packing backup.  With nothing else to be done,we start riding out of town.  We’ve used up the time we were going to spend visiting Moura, so we leave town after seeing only our wonderful hotel, last night’s also wonderful restaurant, and a bank and supermarket we don’t much care for.

You should see Moura though, a beautiful small town a bit off the tourist route.  We can at least tempt you with what we saw on our first visit to Moura.

The courtyard for the Hotel de Moura. There are about a dozen high class bicycles under the overhang, for a French touring group. They were in the open when we rolled in but were apparently moved under cover when rains broke out last night. So clever, those French; I wish we’d thought to do that too.
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Looking up the stairwell at the Hotel de Moura.
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One of the classiest places we’ve ever stayed. Definitely on our top ten list.
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This card eating ATM is much less classy, and left us with a sour taste in our mouths about our stay in Moura. Reluctantly we reset the AFD register back to zero.
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Susan CarpenterI sympathize with that sinking, hopeless feeling when you know your ATM card is eaten...it happened to me on when a bike tour in Siem Reap. Totally my fault though as I spaced out and did not retrieve the card in time. No help from bank and I did not have a back-up card. Fortunately I avoided disaster as it was a group tour with most things already paid for and a fellow American lent me some US$ for incidentals and getting back home.
So glad you had the spare card!
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4 years ago
Steve Miller/GrampiesThe bank's reaction seems very similar to the usual Frenh "Desolee", which we always mentally translate as "sucks to be you". Glad you have a backup card. We always carry one "each" after an unfortunate incident a few years back.
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4 years ago
Scott AndersonTo Susan CarpenterNothing like experience - we’ve had our own fiasco with a cancelled card. We always carry multiple backups now.
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4 years ago

After that, the ride itself is a bit of an anticlimax, but a very pretty one.  The countryside south of Moura is much greener than it was to the north, and for the next few hours we bike south through a sea of green, with rolling hills blanketed with olive trees radiating from us in all directions.

South of Moura the countryside is much greener, with some of the roads lined with yellowing black locusts.
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The pods from these locusts must be eight inches long.
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Olive orchards extend to the horizon in all directions. Many of them are very young, and of a uniform age. I think this land must be newly under irrigation since the Guadiana was dammed.
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Makes me think of Arlington National Cemetary.
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For miles, nearly all of the land is planted in olives.
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Brinches Reservoir, just north of Serpa.
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We get a better look at this bird - good enough that I’m sure now that it’s an Iberian Grey Shrike.
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On the outskirts of Serpa we double back northwest toward Beja on busyN250, a bit of a truck route that we don’t care for so much.  We look forward to turning off onto a rural road, N391, soon after crossing the Guadiana.

A bit north of Serpa, the old train bridge across the Guadiana. It looks like now it’s on a walking route. We should have explored following it.
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Or maybe not. It’s walled off anyway, but pushing over this while looking through the ties at the river far below looks quite intimidating.
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N391 is a surprise - it’s unlabeled, and just looks like a rough dirt road.  How long is this going to go on?  Not sure of what to do, we’re happy to be able to slowly bring up the map in satellite view on our phone and scope out the route ahead.  It at least looks like it’s returning to pavement in a few miles, so we decide to take our chances with it.

A slow two miles of dirt and sand later, we finally find an entrance to a gated private road, the first place where we can get off the road and sit down for lunch.  Almost immediately someone pulls up on a three wheeler, wondering why we’re at his gate.  I pantomime that we’re stopped for lunch, and he smiles, nods, and wheels off again.

A few minutes later an old, drooling black lab labors his way toward us, pulls up short, stares wistfully at us.  For the next ten minutes I appease him by tossing small bits of cheese rind in his general direction and he roots around in the dust until he finds each of them.

Finally, we start up again; and a quarter mile later we return to pavement, and to a tiny village with a nice stream side bench that would be perfect for a lunch break.

This road surprised us. On our map, it’s listed as a named highway - but the first three miles of it are a variable mix of sand, dirt, and washboard. But beautiful.
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An unusual crop pairing: olives and corn.
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She’s smiling, but with the sand build up here and there it’s slow going.
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After about three miles of that nonsense, we‘re excited to see pavement ahead.
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The next five or ten miles are beautiful as we follow the course of this stream uphill.  As we climb, Rachael notes that the sky looks a bit menacing; and in fact it looks like it’s raining in a few spots far off to the west.  Unexpected, and not mentioned in today’s forecast.  We’re still eight miles from Beja, so we pick up the pace.

Seven miles from town our quiet country lane merges into M611, a road that looks like it would be quiet but in fact carries a fair amount of traffic - and is poorly surfaced, and nearly shoulderless.  with the weather really looking menacing now we lay down the hammer and sprint straight northwest toward Beja, pushed by a strong tailwind.

Five miles out, we lose the race with the rain front.  A few sprinkles come at first, but a mile later it’s time to stop, stash the camera, wrap the panniers, put in on rain coats.  There is no shred of shelter to be seen, and with no place to even lean the bikes we make fast and haphazard job of it, not even bothering to put on rain boots.  Results are about as you’d expect.

For the next few miles we climb gently, following the course of a colorful, reedy stream.
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Olives everywhere you look.
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We’re surprised to see that we’ve been registered for an event that wasn’t on our schedule for the day: the eight mile rain dash. Resignedly we accept the challenge and pick up the pace, with not a shred of shelter in sight.
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We lose the race. We’re not even close, really. With still five miles to go we stop and layer up. In our haste we make a haphazard job of it, and arrive at our hotel soaked.
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Steve Miller/GrampiesSometimes you have to wonder if putting on all gear is even worth it. If it is warm enough it might be better, and certainly easier, to just ride. You end up just as wet.
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4 years ago
Thankfully, the rains pass on after about three miles so the last two miles let us dry out a bit before checking in.
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Video sound track: La Sombra, by Cordero

We’d planned to get into Beja early enough to see the town before it gets dark; but the dirt road slowed us down, and by the time we reach our hotel we’re really mostly interested in just drying out and finding places to hang out our wet belongings.

After a bit, Rachael steps out to check out a few nearby shops she spotted when we rolled in.  She comes back with a fresh new outfit to give her some more options when the weather turns colder.  She reports that a new shirt and long pants set us back twenty euros (Portugal is so inexpensive!), and also reports that there is a barber shop three doors down, something I’ve had my eye out for recently.  I head off to Dany’s place, and show the barber a selfie I took with a fresh haircut, and she sets to work.  for eight euros she does a great job; and she beams when I, big spender that I am, tell her to keep the change for the ten euro bill I hand her.

For dinner we find an excellent restaurant, Intimo, and are charmed and inspired by Marcelo, our 19 year old server.  He speaks reasonably good English, and is happy to share his goals and aspirations with us.  He’s in school here (Beja is a college town), majoring in the hospitality profession, and he envisions a career of gradually working his way up in the service industry here in the Portuguese interior.  It’s an encounter that leaves us with a warm glow and feeling of optimism as we walk back to our room. 

New outfit!
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Jen RahnCute and comfortable!
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4 years ago
New haircut! Should see me through until we get home in February where I can visit Bill the Barber.
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Jen RahnHandsome!
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4 years ago
Dany’s place, in Beja: great clip, eight euros.
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Ride stats today: 40 miles, 2,000’; for the tour, 1,162 miles, 62,700’

Today's ride: 40 miles (64 km)
Total: 1,164 miles (1,873 km)

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Jen RahnSorry about the ATM fiasco!

A 16-day AFD streak isn't bad though.

And you ended a day of frustration and unexpected rain with fashionable and optimistic smiles .. ready for an AFD tomorrow.
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4 years ago
Steve Miller/GrampiesWaiting with anticipation to see tomorrow's update on the ATM card debacle. Will the card arrive, will it follow your travels always a day or two behind, enquiring minds want to know.
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4 years ago
Scott AndersonTo Steve Miller/GrampiesWe’ll save you the suspense, so you don’t lose any sleep over it. Like you, we each carry our own card to two different accounts; so we haven’t lost access to anything. The card was cancelled and a replacement was sent to my sister (whose address we share), for her to hold until we return home.
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4 years ago
Steve Miller/GrampiesTo Scott AndersonThanks for the reassurance, and the option of a good night' sleep.
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4 years ago
Scott AndersonTo Jen RahnIt all worked out fine, and we can’t complain too much about the rain - it’s the first honest soaking we’ve had in six weeks. We were due.
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4 years ago