After the Christmas house-sit, it was time to return to the UK for catch up with family and friends and to get the latest on the ever expanding dinosaur situation. A whirlwind tour was undertaken whilst Gurty was left in capable hands at Faro Campervan Park. It was fab to catch up with everyone and have a boogie for Rocky’s 50th. What a great gang we are!
As Storm Ciara rolled in it was time to escape back to the wheels of Gurty and leave everyone to it – you’re welcome -:)
Portugal was shining when I got back and spent a couple of days at the Camper Park. I went for an explore on my bike, and was astounded by the wilderness and beauty just at the end of the road, despite being in the middle of Faro.
With trusty map in hand, I followed the directions – straight across at the roundabout. So I gamely attacked the single track in front of me and headed off. An hour later I have gone round and round and up and down many bumpy dusty tracks, always coming out at the same spot and no beach in sight. I decide to go back to the top of the hill and follow the road, only to realise this is where I should have been in the first place. Never did have a sense of direction!
I passed Salt mountains and marshes, smelt the stinking rich at the luxury Golf course (which was trying to disguise itself as a bird sanctuary – I think I only muttered ‘Wankers!’ once! I could now see the beach, but it was taped off for a local event. Finally after talking my way through the tape via a very lovely steward, I cycled across the boardwalk as lithe athletes ran out of the sea discarding their swimsuits and jumping on bikes – a triathlon how marvellous.