Mountain Biking

February 1, 2007

The most intimate look at the north of Portugal is best seen by mountain bike. Duarte and I like to start off our rides by turning left just outside the front door of our little house onto the steep and narrow alley that leads below to a green valley where a thin, bubbling, stream passes through. Following the flow of the water, we pass over a rocky bridge that is damp with the morning dew. This bridge has thrown us from our bicycles more than once, so we pass with care. We climb up an old dirt road. As we ascend we pass fields of grape vines, tilled gardens ready for spring, burrows grazing along a stone fence and of course, olive trees. There are trails leading in every direction.

Our destinations vary from day to day. Riding two or three times a week, we have yet to ride the same trail twice. Relying on Duarte’s knowledge of the area, we head for a memory he has from childhood. These memories are magical places. We’ve ridden to an abandoned castle from the 14th century that overlooks all of Chaves and into Spain. We found a land manager’s home that sits on top of a mountain among the forested areas around Chaves. It was abandoned when the dictatorship ended in the 70’s. Other times, we simply ride as far as we can ride with a few euros in our pocket to buy a cold drink and a pastry at one of the villages through which we pass. It’s difficult to pry our selves away from these peaceful places.

Sometimes the trails meander up and down through the rolling landscape. More often, we climb. Though the climbs are long and steep there is much around us to take in and enjoy. I like the rich, musty smells of the fields ready for planting and the smell of smoke from the fireplaces in the villages. The wet, mossy rocks that squish with the weight of our bicycles, make the journey seem mystical at times. I like the sounds of the animals walking through the fields; the loud calls of the women in the villages washing their laundry in the village wash areas and then hanging their clothes to dry. The church bells from the many villages echo throughout the valley. There is a rhythm to this culture that I tune into while my legs move the pedals and I climb higher.

The villages are interspersed between forests, gardens, farmlands, vineyards, and high rocky cliffs. Every turn we make offers a different landscape. We race through shadowy, pine forests feeling cold and damp and then emerging in a bright, open field with the sun warming us enough to shed a layer. We hop off our bikes to climb huge boulders giving us the greatest of vistas. Once when we were riding, Duarte stopped ahead of me saying – “You’ve got to see this.” Up the hill was a stone wall made of chunks of granite stacked about 3 feet tall. Looking over the wall at us was an old man dressed in dark clothing with a button down cap. Beside him, also peering over the wall, was a donkey, a black goat and a white sheep all with the same curious expression.

Exploring the roads, trails and villages of Portugal has been my favorite part of our stay here. While riding, Duarte and I enjoy time together as a couple. We have time to talk, to laugh and time to be quiet together. The rides are physically challenging which allows me to burn the countless calories I eat each day at Quinta da Mata. By bike, I am seeing the heart of this beautiful place…so different from anything I have ever known before.