WAGS S. Vicente Pt Two 23.01.2020. Handkerchiefs and Ponchos

Overture (click to open link)

“Handkerchiefs at Dawn”

A drama in one (short) act.
Dramatis Personae
Sir Terry d´ Ames: a steely-eyed explorer, booted and spurred, ready to go
Dulcinella: a comely and virtuous chambermaid
Paulo a Pé: a mere idler and opportunist
Sundry Onlookers: also booted and spurred, but not quite so ready to go.
The Curtain rises
The Scene: early one morning, just as the sun was rising, a cobbled lane outside the Mira Inn, Bishopton, somewhere in Portugal. The explorer´s expeditionary force is making ready to depart.
The hostelry door opens and Dulcinella emerges, weeping, pressing a man-sized white handkerchief to her eyes.
Music.
Dulcinella:       "Oh don't deceive me, Oh never leave me
                            How could you use a poor maiden so?"
Onlookers:      “Yes, yes, how could you?
They weep.
Sir Terry:         “No. I must go.”
Dulcinella:       “Nay, do not leave me.”
Sir Terry:         “I leave you …….my handkerchief.”
Dulcinella:       “Oh stay, I pray.”
Sir Terry:         “No, no. I go. I must explore yon distant horizon.”
Dulcinella:       “Nay, nay. Stay, I pray.”
Sir Terry:          “No, no. I go, I go.”                                                                   And at last he does go.                                    (exit stage left).
Dulcinella weeps some more, then tosses the handkerchief aside with disdain, and goes back into the inn.             (exit stage right).
Paulo a Pé (sotto voce):
                          “But I, I do not go. I will stay, for a coffee; it costs just a buck
                            And, with my subtle charm, maybe I´ll have some luck.”
Paulo does not weep but smiles, stoops, and picks up the handkerchief.
Paulo a Pé:   “In luck already - it´s a Tilley; a good bit of gear, this.”
and then he follows the chambermaid into the inn. (exit stage right).
The hostelry door closes.
Onlookers:    “ Mark you well, Tilley´s the name.
                         ”But what a shame for the dame.”
They too weep some more, but finally shoulder their burdens and follow Sir Terry down the lane.                                 (exeunt stage left).
Then the heavens begin to weep.
The End
The audience also wept. (Well, wouldn´t you?)
Curtain

But of course, dear Reader, it wasn´t like that at all. The mundane actuality was that, just as we were all about to set off on the second day´s St Vincent walk, one of the hotel staff rushed out calling in a loud accusatory voice:-
“Who was number 6?”
Terry, looking a bit guilty (what had he done wrong? damaged something? unpaid bar bill?), owned up that it was he who had been number 6. He was quite relieved to find that what all the fuss was about was that he had simply left a handkerchief under the bed.
Mini-drama over, we then all made our way down hill back to the scene of the previous evening´s festivities, Restaurante Eira do Mel, where Paul took this splendid Starter picture.
The Starters

Andrew, Lindsey, Geraldine, Hazel, Myriam, Rod, Terry, Jill, and John H

I just had to get in it...!

Of course what John writes below is naturally from his own perspective. Rod's 'tardy load of bollocks' also included a view which I insert below unexpurgated and entire:

Next morning everyone appeared fairly bright and cheerful for breakfast at the appointed hour. And soon after we set off for Day2 walk directly from the hotel. Well all except Paul whose back was still causing him grief and he decide to give it a miss

Barely had we reached the outskirts of town than the heavens opened and we were obliged to seek refuge, by kind authority of the builder, beneath the balcony of a newly constructed house. That over we continued on our way over the gently undulating, windswept countryside. We stopped by the obviously most important watering hole..at least judging from the number of different pipes emanating from it. And then on to the little chapel dedicated to S. Antonio. Note to ascertain the real history of this place and why S. Antonio should have barged in on St Vincent´s fiefdom!

Shortly after there a X Roads marked the point where we could opt for a shorter walk; ….no takers this time so we all pressed on. Little to note from then on except that Geraldine suddenly became aware she had dropped her glasses somewhere so she strode off back into the distance. How most of us failed to see them and avoid treading on them and how a passing vehicle passed them by who knows but in any event she quickly found them and undamaged.

The Scream

From there we headed back towards Vila do Bispo at which point John H who had for long been in ruminative mode at the rear, swept passed us with an anticipatory spring in his step and was well settled on the Convivio bar terrace and already consuming his second Sagres by the time the rest arrived.. In any event the good Maria Eugenia, unfazed by our failure to dine in her establishment the previous night, produced tostas of the highest WAGS quality.

Thus ended another St. Vincent´s Walk. We sincerely hope that he was suitably impressed…..perhaps even to the extent that he might reciprocate with another miracle one day!

And now back to John's account:

We then set off; what the non-walking Paul then did for the next few hours is not the business of this blog to investigate, so we will ignore him (for the time being).

It didn´t take long for the heavens to really open up. Luckily, we were near a house under construction with a convenient verandah which provided shelter for ten minutes or so. The worst of the weather had now passed but it was a matter of donning and doffing rainwear for most of the remainder of the walk.

The Track

Our initial direction was in a generally south- westerly direction, inland of the Vila do Bispo – Sagres highway moving among some quite fertile looking fields.

The first diversion of sorts arose when Andrew, tired of wearing his heavy waterproof trousers now that the rain had eased, attempted to take them off, but found that he could not do so unaided without overbalancing. Solicitous friends and relations gathered around him to stop him toppling to the ground.

But his boots would not exit the trouser legs which were now tangled round his ankles. And now a very large agricultural tractor came roaring down the road towards him but we managed to drag him out off the way before harm was done.
Eventually, some tactical zips and pop buttons were undone and Andrew was extracted from his outer trousers. .The general opinion of those watching this epic struggle echoed the sentiments of that well-known Fats Waller song “Your Feet´s Too Big, ” the one that contains that great line “Your pedal extremities are colossal.”

We then stopped to admire the stonework of an ancient fonte from which a maze of very modern looking pipe work emerged.

A little further on, we came across that very large tractor once more; this had turned off the road into a sheep pen where the farmer driver was engaged in scooping up the carcasses of two or three dead sheep, sad but necessary.

Not something to be photographed too closely: this blog is, after all, for family reading. The other inhabitants of the pen did not however appear duly concerned.

A couple of kilometres later, we made a right turn and, before heading on a more northerly tack, turned into a small field to contemplate the chapel of Santo Antonio.

A plaque high up on the front wall of the chapel indicated that it had been rebuilt (reedificado) in 1890, so presumably this is quite an old site.

Rod queried why, in territory for centuries connected with St Vincent (flourished early Fourth Century AD), there should be a shrine to a much late arrival St Antony of Padua (flourished early 13th Century AD). But answer came there none.

For those interested in reading further about St Vincent, it is well worth calling up the following article:-

https://algarvedailynews.com/history/7717-st-vincent-the-forgotten-saint
(Author: Roderick Frew, of this parish.)

After that pause for historical thought, we continued our northerly path, moving away from what is quite a fertile stretch of greenery towards the rather more barren tracts of land bordering the western sea coast. There were plenty of signs purporting to send us in the right direction…

……..although if you are ever hell-bent on getting to upper Monte Bagão, it´s not recommended that you obey this next one too literally.

Our Leader gave us a a choice of routes, the shorter or the longer. Why we chose the longer, I do not know, but we did.The land became flatter, the paths arrowing into the distance.

There was little to excite us now, as the fatigue began to grow, apart from Geraldine suddenly discovering that she had dropped her spectacles. It was a timely discovery, because she found them after back-tracking for less than five minutes. The well-known landmarks of the aircraft radio beacon and Torre Aspa came into sight.

But it was the signs to and sight of Vila do Bispo in the distance that suddenly galvanised JohnH who positively galloped ahead of the pack, to such effect that he was already on his second beer at Café Convivio i the church square by the time the rest got home.

Then Paulo a Pé arrived at the Café – we did not enquire too deeply into what he had been up to all morning – and refreshments were taken.

including what must count as one of the most satisfying tostas mistas com tomate to be found in the western Algarve.

and Myriam's dessert

A very good ending to an excellent couple of days, admirably convened by Rod.

Statistics for the day

Total distance: 12.09 kms. Total time: 3 hrs 28 mins.
Moving time: 2 hrs 39 mins.Average moving speed: 4.6 kph.
Total ascent: 261 metres.

Twin Tracks
The two tracks on one map.