Strategic shopping

The first thing I do in Penamacor is some strategic shopping. I won’t come across another supermarket for the next four or five days, so I need to think carefully about what to buy and figure out how to fit everything into my cart. Miraculously, I manage it. Fully loaded, I set off again, only to walk several kilometres in the wrong direction…

Muted Komoot

Along the way, I use the Komoot app. Ideal, because it tells me when to turn. The northern loop of this GR22 was wonderfully signposted everywhere, but that’s not always the case here. At the supermarket, I had muted the voice instructions. It’s rather annoying when you’re shopping and keep hearing: “Turn around, turn around.” However, I forgot to turn the voice guidance back on. So, with my extra-heavy cart, I have to turn around and retrace my steps. Sigh.

Clouds of smoke

On a dusty country road, I see a dark figure emerging in the distance, with clouds of smoke billowing around his head. I can’t quite make him out because I’m looking straight into the sun. He stops and waits for me to walk past.

“You English?” he asks with a big smile.

“Holanda,” I say.

“Holanda, oh yeah, you can smoke there, great country!”

In his hand, he holds the biggest joint I’ve ever seen for one person. He shakes my hand. “Great Holanda, great.” I just go along with him, even when he says he thinks it’s ridiculous that in Portugal you can smoke joints but aren’t allowed to buy them.

“Marco,” he says. “And you?”

“Marnix, nice to meet you.”

He shakes my hand again and says, “Good people, good people,” before sitting down under a large oak tree.

750 GRAMS LIGHTER

Today, I pass through just one village, Aldeia de João Pires, and it’s absolutely beautiful. Strange that it’s just off the route. I walk into the village because I’m hungry and looking for somewhere to sit down. I find a spot in the shade on a little square. My first meal is sorted, and my cart is 750 grams lighter. Every little bit helps, because there’s a serious climb waiting for me to the next historic village, Monsanto.

MENTALLY PREPARING MYSELF…

But first, I need a little time to mentally prepare myself for that climb. I pitch my tent four kilometres before Monsanto. There’s always tomorrow. Then there’s no getting out of it.

Overnight stay: Monsanto