I hear footsteps

I sleep restlessly. The pain from the fall is manageable, but I keep waking up. Sometimes I hear cars passing by on the road. At one point, it seems like a car stops. It’s still exciting. Do I hear footsteps now? I only hear two and then nothing more. Did I imagine it? I drift back to sleep.

A fisherman next to my tent

When I unzip my tent a little later, I see a man fishing. So he does exist! He must have walked right by my tent, but apparently, he doesn’t mind that I’m here. Still, I quickly pack my things. Fifty meters away, I sit at a picnic table. Not long after, the fisherman arrives. I decide to engage in a friendly conversation and ask if he has caught anything and might want a cup of coffee. Unfortunately, no peixe today. We manage to converse using gestures. He looks amazed at my cart, where all my belongings are, and points me the way.

The mobile baker again

On the map, I saw that there is a water refill point in the next village. It’s really necessary because aside from the rivers, all the little water sources are dry. In the square in the middle of the village, I fill my bottles and sit at a table in the shade. And, believe it or not, I hear honking. The mobile baker! He only comes here three times a week, and right now he is here. I buy two pastéis de nata, the puff pastries that Portugal is famous for. Now that’s enjoying coffee!

Signs everywhere indicating it’s a hunting area

Despite my ‘injuries,’ I walk wonderfully, but I am worried. Signs hang everywhere, a red square with a white circle in it. That means hunting is allowed. It’s hunting season, and moreover, it’s Thursday, a day on which a lot of hunting occurs. Additionally, I read that it happens on Sundays and holidays. There are plenty of great camping spots, but those signs are everywhere. A bullet through my tent or backside doesn’t seem pleasant.

The trail provides again

It is almost dark when a car stops beside me. Where do I want to go? I explain that I am looking for a camping spot. I don’t quite understand what he says, but I do hear ‘500 meters’. He waves at me and drives on. And indeed, exactly 500 meters further stands an old dilapidated farmhouse with withered grass around it. Perfect!