Borderia Beach

What a cracking beach it is too. Rocky cliffs being continually battered by the Atlantic swell are to my back offering enticing walks. To my front in the distance is a huge wide sandy beach with foaming white and blue rolling waves sweeping it billiard table smooth. A large sand spit rooted in acres of sand dunes is stopped by the rising cliffs and separated from them by a freshwater outflow. This has formed a large and shallow lake between the big car park where I and several others are and the sandspit.

A bracing fight with cold, furious and foaming Atlantic rollers followed by a gentle dip in the warm freshwater lake rinses off the salt and places me firmly in Heaven!  Even Tanya without too much fuss swam halfway across the lake. Mind you I had to wade waist deep alongside  and encourage her to keep going but she did it and seemed really pleased with herself as she dashed through the shallows and raced like a mad thing up and down the large sandspit.

Early in the morning is simply gorgeous. Before the land heats up and the cool onshore breeze starts to assert itself. I have to admit this mornings early doors skinny dip was definitely preferable to conventional washing!

This is a part of west coast Algarve I have not explored before. While Barbara was here we did a little of it just above Sagres. We found a lovely surf beach full of topless young things and surfers of various ability skimming down the short sharp steep waves. The motorhome had to be parked some way away though so we headed inland across the rural tracks and enjoyed a night in empty but beautiful countryside.

This place though .... well in some way it is a bit poignant as I know just how Barbara would have loved it. Next time Barbara. Next time.

Flood

"Bow wave?" I thought. CLUNK .... JERK ..... DEAD STOP. "Shit!" I loudly exclaimed as the enormity of our sudden and unexpected dilemma dramatically hit home.

The weather, it being Easter n all that, had turned very wet. We were on our way down to the coast from the hilltop village and tourist stop of 'Monchique'. All in all things were going very well. We had enjoyed bike rides, swimming and snorkelling. A real highlight had been wild camping alongside a rural track in the middle of nowhere surrounded by the wild colours, sounds and scents of a flowering Portuguese spring. Such delights had been ours this last couple of sun blessed weeks. But now, Easter Sunday, the rain was tumultuous so we were happily and slowly wending our way to lower and drier levels.

There was a flood under a bridge which at first glance did not look too bad and certainly no worse than Sadie and I had forded through before. 

"Slowly does it" I thought as Sadie crept along. 

We were halfway through when I noticed we were making a bow wave in front of us. Now, the noticing of a bow wave being pushed up in front of a vehicle designed to travel on dry land is good and sort of OK. Unfortunately; 'the noticing' is a sluggish psychological process which is usually some way behind the action taking place in front of your eyes. This of course is not good, not good at all! Sadies big five cylinder diesel engine relies totally on receiving large quantities of dry clean air. Her air intake was now below the bow wave and had efficiently sucked into her engine a healthy slug of water. This had immediately stopped her dead. Simultaneously my brain, which contains years of knowledge and useless information about engines, registered with alarm the catastrophic consequences of said slug of water entering such a precision reliant mechanism as Sadie's large hot five cylinder turbocharged diesel engine

I turned to Barbara and said gloomily. "That's the engine well and truly f****d then!"

I kicked off my footwear and stepped outside to assess the situation. The water was knee deep and lapping at Sadie's entry step. I noticed a youngish tall guy beckoning me over while at the same time speaking into his mobile phone. As I paddled out of the water toward him he said in good English. 

"You got rope? My friend coming back, he pull you out." 

Sure enough edging toward the water a few minutes later was his friends Jeep complete with wife and young child sitting bemused inside. The ropes were soon attached and Sadie emerged from the flood onto the dry road.

That, however, was not the end. Listen to the rest of this story and then tell me who is one very very lucky old codger!

Turns out these two guys were lorry mechanics and really knew their stuff. In seconds Sadies bonnett was up, air hoses were being disconnected and a soggy wet air filter was pronounced as 'No good, need buy new.'  I was then instructed to sit in the drivers seat and occasionally give the engine a flick with the starter motor. They meanwhile rocked Sadie back and forth with her in 5th gear. 

"You must put in 5th gear!" They shouted in unison" 

Sadie's engine was finally cleared of water and able to turn over easily and start. And miracle of miracles she did start. She burst back into life and I just about burst into tears. I could not believe our good fortune. Easter Sunday, a foreign country, a flooded bridge out in the countryside and two Guardian Angel lorry mechanics there on site to assist the crazy tourist who drives a motorhome like he thinks he's got a Sunseeker luxury powerboat!!

I was instructed to drive slowly to our destination, about ten kilometers, and then go to the Mercedes Benz main dealer the next day to finish the job properly. I thrust a generous Euro note into each of their protesting hands before limping slowly away in Sadie with her compromised non turbo charged engine. The air hoses, and turbocharger had been left unconnected to drain out and dry.

I was shattered both mentally and physically when we reached 'Alvor', our stop for the night. To be then cared for and have dinner cooked for me by Barbara was very very special. Especially after she had been suddenly and dramatically told her shared holiday home was, in effect, f****d by her host, a thunderously doom and gloom bearded ancient idiot motorhome driver. An experience that was deeply traumatising for her as well. Thank you Barbara.

We were at the Mercedes Benz dealer early next day. They were excellent and remarkably good value too. Yup! The miracles just kept coming!  I mean .... Mercedes main dealer? Good value? Hah! in the UK you'd need to take out a mortgage if you so much as coughed in one of those places! But here in Portugal we left 2 hours later with a fully functional, fully checked, electronically diagnosed, and all thumbs up raring to go Sadie.

Another day and another story but more to the point. Another example of ..... There is summmat, out there, lookin after me. All I can do is say ..... Thank you soooooo much.

Barbara and I had a bet as to what the garage bill would be. We were happily both way out with our guesses. Even so Barbara was the loser being off the mark even more than me. She was quite happy to stick to the agreement and duly paid for the celebratory meal.

Sadly Barbara is now safely back, courtesy of Ryanair, to her country cottage near 'St Andrews' in Scotland. I can truly say we had a wonderful three weeks and both Tanya and I are tonight missing her a lot. Sadie seems somehow empty.

Special K (with chocolate curls!) & tripping up.

I could not help but laugh with Barbara again as her face convulsed and tears rolled down her cheeks as she recalled the 'tripping' incident of the previous night.

We were at 'Sagres' parked behind Phil and Linda's Burstner Motorhome. I'd first met Phil and Linda last year in Spain. A few days ago in 'Alvor' they had recognized Tanya and called us over. We met them again at our wild spot near 'Lagos' where they assisted in fending off the continuous begging from the local 'travelling people'.

Phil and Linda were enjoying their 'meal in' as we set off to sample an evening meal out at the local 'Sagres' surfers beach restaurant. We knocked on their door on our return, the agreed signal for them to join us shortly for an evening drink.

Now a motorhome is simply a house condensed into a very small space. Upon entering Sadie our immediate task was to 'move' things, which loosely translates as 'chuck stuff on the bed'. This of course to make room for our guests. I lifted the basket of 'stuff' which lives on the bench seat, swung round to take two paces toward the bed. Next thing I am sprawled head-first upon bed with head half in basket. Blue, denim jean clad legs, according to the convulsed with laughter Barbara, were waving around horizontally and alarmingly.

"What the ..... who the hell put my toolbox there .... First rule of motorhoming is NEVER EVER BLOCK THE FLOOR SPACE!!'' 

This was my furious repost as I regained my feet and stupified, stared vacantly at my toolbox neatly placed on the floor in front of the bed. With pointed wagging finger this now very angry bearded apparition rounded on the culprit only to be faced with a Barbara doubled up with laughter, cheeks glistening with tears and not far off an incident involving the lower regions.

Phil and Linda then announced their arrival at our open doorway which meant the whole story had to be re-canted by the virtually incoherent with mirth Barbara. Phil joined me in the highly male ritual of 'Hmmmph!' Which is the delicate and nigh on impossible transition of male red rage anger into desperate and futile face saving justification when faced with overwhelming, and frighteningly mysterious, female humour. Linda meanwhile 'getting it wholeheartedly' was by now laughing too as the sorry tale of the fuming angry horizontal leg waving bearded motorhomer unfolded.

Overall it was a good start to what turned out to be a lovely evening and a farewell to our friends as they started to head North the next day.

We meanwhile headed for the local 'Supermercado' to stock up the dwindling food supply. All went well until I made the mistake of allowing Barbara freedom to roam. She found the breakfast cereal aisle. I knew immediately we were in trouble as her unmistakable whoop of delight echoed around the supermarket. I arrived as the shelf was being cleared of the unavailable in the UK 'Kellogs Special K with chocolate curls.'

Special K with Chocolate curl (SKCC) addiction is a growing problem across Europe and Barbara, a vulnerable victim, and totally unaware of the lethal and lifelong consequences had tucked into her first milk soaked bowl of SKCC a year ago in Paris. This unexpected fresh exposure brought on a total relapse undoing all the good work SKCC anonymous had achieved over the past year.

Strong action was needed. A threat to report her to the GNR (Portuguese gun toting police) was thankfully enough to allow me to replace all but two boxes. These days, due to the explosive expansion of SKCC use across society, two boxes per shopping trolley is tolerated by the GNR. However; the strange and far away look in her eyes plus the way she clutched tightly to the supermarket trolley reminded me of the injuries I sustained the last time I tried to touch those two allowable boxes.

She is now doing OK after phoning her SKCC anonymous buddy. It's a bit like handling an eggshell first thing in the morning but once she has consumed her morning fix she becomes the Barbara I know from an un-addicted past life. The daily scrumptious Greek yoghurt recommended by her buddy seems to be helping too with her relapsing only once so far into more than one bowl a day.

But overall, and pushing aside for once, the joint crazy humour we both enjoy, Barbara, Tanya and I have been enjoying a wonderful sun blessed time here in the Algarve. She will be missed.

Welcom to Portugal Barbara.

"Shhhh! No don't lower the blind, just lie still n they'll go soon." Says I to a not suprisingly, nervous and worried Barbara.

The pick up at the airport had gone smoothly apart from Barbara's bag being on the wrong plane and going to arrive 12 hrs later courtesy of super efficient (not) British Airways. Sorting that out had taken some time so we arrived at the local Faro Beach car park, our overnight spot, later than expected. No problem. Barbara was delighted and we were both pleased to see each other and share some lovely fruity sweet curry and rice.

Timing is all important in life. Youngsters with boom box rev me up cars arriving to do wheelies on this, an empty sand covered and therefore skid heaven car park, just as we were settling down for the night was timing to perfection. Poor Barbara wondered what on earth she had let herself into. She, bravely and with considerable doubt trusted me as I quietly listened and figured out it was not a crowd but just two cars with a couple of youngsters out for a bit of fun. Thankfully my prognosis of the situation soon proved correct as two rev me up cars disappeared into the dark night leaving us with only some 'end of storm' breakers hurling themselves against the sea wall in front of us. A re-assuring and continuous sound which quickly lured us into a deep sleep till the morning light and Tanya's flapping ears awakened us.

Portugal still and in particular at my favourite wild spot here opposite the small village of 'Ferragudo', just over the river from the high rise holiday complex skyline of 'Portimao'. The river estuary is a busy waterway with lovely sandy beaches one of which is right outside Sadies door. The mooring buoys scattered around the estuary have beautiful big fresh mussels clumped together and tightly clinging to their underwater anchor ropes. Last year I swam out and collected some and fair exhausted myself what with the tugging at these underwater mollusces and swimming against the tide. What a difference this year. Blow up Kayak became my fishing boat and it was not long before Barbara and I were feasting on a lunch of very fresh mussels enhanced, I have to say, by Barbaras delicious tomato onion and garlic sauce. Yummy yum yum!

"My bike. I can't believe it!" 

The look of pleasured amazement on Barbara's face as she gingerly handled this brand new and rather smart ladies bike was, for me, re-payment with generous interest on this 'damm good value for money' bicycle. We were soon embarked upon our first joint cycling trip over the river to 'Portimao' and the beach beyond. A nice easy flat ride. Apart that is from the exposed walk/cycleway which was a bolted on extra to the long steel road bridge spanning the river. This was of course no problem for roughy toughy Steve and his Tanya filled green bucket bike. For Barbara though, embarked as she was on her first bicycle excursion for many years, this very long, narrow and rattley steel floored passageway came under the OMG terrifying label. The open sides showing the swirling waters beneath did nothing to ease her terror. She did great though. With gritted teeth and eyes fixed firmly ahead she kept pedalling and with a "Phew" type exclamation arrived safely alongside me. 

"Now you've done it once the return journey won't be so bad." I said to her. I did'nt get a verbal reply, just a look, a look which said it all!

All was forgiven and we are now, a few days later by the way, in a pavement cafe in 'Lagos, listening to Sweet Alabama from two excellent street buskers. Heaven.

Waiting + Fridge & special guest

'CHECKMATE' .... issued forth the the voice from my smart phone.

"Whaaat .... How ... Oh damm, I forgot that knight!" Issued forth the whingy whiney voice of myself. Shoulders slumped and jaw dropped as realisation sunk in of the enormity of losing to a computer chess app set at level one, which is one up from beginner. It did'nt help that the sound of heavy rain beating down on Sadies roof was loud and continuous and had been since we had left Tavira.

Doom, gloom and mental breakdown into depression. This was the clever octopus now tentatively reaching out its multi suckered arms in the hope I would remain in the defeated Chess stupor long enough for it to get a firm hold and drag me down deep into it's lair.

HA!! "No way José!" 

I say as I remind myself of the actual where/what and how well we're doing just now. Barbara was due the next day and we had returned to the campsite in Tavira to clean Sadie, get washing done and prepare, as best as one elderly single brain celled male can do, for the arrival of female company. We had done well. Even Tanya had a bath and we had collected a very smart ladies bicycle from the local cycle shop.

But .... Oh yes, there is always a 'but' where these things are concerned. Day 2 of fridge doom had also arrived. You gotta admire fate's timing have you not. I mean the very day before my special guest arrives. Good timing fate, good timing!

I'd done all I could in the way of re-stripping and re-furbishing the intracies of the fridge's complicated operating mechanism twice now. Master Fridge was not having it though and refused to play ball.

"Where's that leaflet for 'Camper Serv' Tanya?" I mutter as I finally locate it. 

"Aha! They are agents for Dometic (fridge make) and they are just up the road from Faro airport. "C'mon Tanya, in y'get we're on our way!"

In the pouring rain, with me holding the umbrella, a very efficient young man at Camper Serv pulls out two wires, cleans and replaces them and without further ado Master Fridge sputters into gas fuelled activity. Hooray! The day, and more importantly, Tanya, Barbara, and my stock of food, are saved. I would have willingly paid a lot more than he asked for especially as he took time to show and explain to me this particular fault of the fridge and how to fix it.

Well that was yesterday. The rain ceased early this morning and here we are watching the planes come and go in a sun blessed viewing area at Faro airport. Plenty of time to take Tanya for a walk and prepare a nice curry for this evening, Barbara may be hungry, before we drive round to the airport pick up area once I see her plane land.

OH! And Master Fridge? He is happily 'green for go' and keeping the grub cool.

Only fly on the horizon is poor Tanya who does not in any way approve of the regular bird scarer bangs coming from the end of the runway. AH well! Can't have everything perfect can we.

The piccys. Well the rain also forced me to 'Smart phone play'. Guess who found an app in Google Play Store called 'Sketch Guru!'