Portugal (Porto-Lisbon) - The trip of a Lockdown
- michaeldhaydock
- Mar 2, 2023
- 18 min read
After a last minute switch from Croatia, I arrived in Portugal with no expectations. I left Portugal wondering why it had taken me 32 years to visit. Amazing people. A rugged unspoilt coastline. And miles of pothole-free tarmac. Not to mention the glorious sunshine. All this over 5-days and 400km of cycling through lush fig tree filled countryside, coastal towns and seaside villages, culminated in a perfect storm of the best cycling I’d done in a long time.
The trip of a lockdown happened in the brief gap between mandated stay-at-home orders in the UK in August 2020, after our original destination, Croatia, was pulled from the green list - I know, first-world problems, right! The planning was swift, and the morals were jangling, but the decision was the right one - even if it meant buying an emergency flight, should Portugal have met the same fate as Croatia.
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Flying into Lisbon and allowing a couple of days of wandering, and many 'Natas, the plan was to amble down from Porto to Lisbon, averaging 80km per day over 5-days. So after picking up our hire-bikes, jumping on the train, we arrived in Porto full of excitement ready for day 1.
Day 1: Porto - Aviero
Key stats: 80km, 416m+
Pave: mostly tarmac. Some gravel and boardwalk
Accommodation - Aviero Rossio Bed and Breakfast
Bike Hire - https://www.lisbonbikerentals.com/
After a couple of days of taking in the sights, the cycling started in the historic city of Porto. We donned our lycra, stepped out into the baking sun and we crossed the famous double-deckered Ponte de Dom Luís, took a few obligitory selfies in front of the impressive views and headed south-west towards the Portuguese coastline.
Admittedly the ride out of Porto wasn't great, but it was nice to be somewhere new, and after an hour or so of peddling, we got our first glimpses of the azure, and the spectacular Portuguese coastline - a coastline that I wasn't quite prepared for. The beaches were empty; the sea a sparkling blue, and the sand, white. Caribbean white! After half an hour of taking it in, we reluctantly re-mounted our steeds and carried on south towards Aveiro which was described as the 'Venice of Portugal'.
The route for the rest of the day was - not meaning to use a bland word - lovely! If you're used to cycling in the UK then you'll be familiar with the crumbling roads and lazily painted - if at all - cycle lanes. This couldn't have been more different. On the leg south towards Aveiro, we were treated to wide and extensive cycles lanes; praia hugging promenades, a beach-side boardwalk that snaked through reed beds and a bit of gravel for good measure. To be honest, it had it all.
After around 30km of hugging the shoreline and passing through small seaside towns, the route took us through a pine forest which was a nice relief from the 30oc sun. In fact it was delightful. The smell of pine sap filled our noses and pine needles crunched beneath our tyres and it was silent. The lack of cars on the route so far was a bit surprising - and long may it continue. After around 35km we spotted a clearing in the trees and the sea, and if like a mirage, a small beach bar appeared in sight - just as the thought of a nata and a beer started to fill the mind. The shack was nestled between the forest and the beach and had a decent amount of snacks and drinks on offer. I ordered a fresh juice - downed it - an espresso and a Nata. I was a happy boy! Although my taste buds were ready for it, 10.30 seemed a bit early to get on the Super Bock!
Having freed our feet for an hour or so, we remounted and the route started to veer east / south-east away from the coast as we hit Furaduoro and the Avenida do Emigrante. Although remaining relatively forested, the landscape started to change from dense pines to farmland as we skirted around an inland area of salt flats that dotted the landscape out to the surrounding villages. When we hit Estarreja, the landscape changed again and became more industrial which was the theme as we moved closer to Aveiro. It was around this point we hit pur first stint of gravel that eventually led us into town.
The last stint on the route for whatever reason seemed to take an age. Or what felt like an age. As we switched from marsh-side gravel paths to solid roads, we eventually began to roll in to Aveiro towards the bed and breakfast. I'll confess, I did struggle to draw the comparisons between Aveiro and Venice other than they both have, well canals. Actually, that's a little unfair. The first impressions were good. After checking into the hotel, freshening up and then devouring the largest ice-cream EVER; Aveiro really began to shine. For what I would describe as a small town, I'd never seen such a large amount of bars and restaurants in such close proximity - so much so we wondered around for an hour or so trying to decide. But this wasn't until after we'd enjoyed (finally) a couple of ice-cold beers and snacks at one of the canal-side bars. After some food and another wander, we headed back to base to get ready for the next leg of the journey.
I won't dwell too much about places we visited on the trip as I think it's important for you to make up your own mind about a place. Aveiro definitely deserves a night though. If like us you like to walk, I'd recommend wondering over to the salt-flats just out of town to watch the sun set. In more normal times it looks like there are a couple of bar huts which would have been a great place to sit to watch the day turn into night.
An important thing to note is that Aveiro DOES have a bike shop, so if you are in need of supplies, you can grab them here.
Day 2: Aviero - Figurera del Foz
Key stats: 80.27km, 351m+,
Pave: Gravel, tarmac, long stretch of degraded tarmac / gravel
Accommodation: Universal Boutique Hotel
We greeted day 2 with breakfast on a tray - covid innit - that we wheeled in from outside our door. It needed wheels too as breakfast had everything. I remember thinking to myself 'I don't remember ticking all those boxes' but the feast was soon justified with the 'we're carb-loading' excuse. The best excuse if you ask me! A cheese plate. Bread. Juice, Fruit and yoghurt. These were all consumed before cramming our possessions for the week back into our bags.
As there wasn't much space in the Guesthouse, our bikes were stored across the street at the 'sister' hostel in the courtyard. From the looks of it we weren't the only ones doing a bit of bikepacking; but shamefully we couldn't hang around to see who they were, nor where they were going. It was early doors mind you. And we all know how fun hostels can be!
The route for the day was another relatively flat affair, heading south again along the coast. Rumbling across the cobbles out of town and then along the canals, it was great being back on the bikes again and in the morning sun. I must confess that I wasn't in love with the saddle that was on the Grail hire bike - it was hard, squeaky and well worn. And it had well worn my backside I realised, not long into the 2nd day. That aside, the route started pretty much as the first day left off. Marshland to the east of us. Gravel tracks beneath us and an overall initial industrial feel - but no complaints.
Leaving Aviero started a bit hairyily to be honest. To cross over the main expanse of estuary and reconnect with the coast and the route, we had to go over a pretty large and incredibly busy bridge that felt like a bit of a motorway - or freeway if you're American. There wasn't much, but luckily there was a bit of space and we made a makeshift bike lane between the edge of the bridge and the railings at the edge of the road. We survived and it wasn't actually that bad, and shortly after the end of the bridge, the route took us off the main road and onto a smaller one running parallel that was much more appealing.
It wasn't long after joining this road, and a few residential streets later, we were reunited with the estuary-side (Canal de Mira) gravel path that we'd encountered the day before. We then turned south into the sun and were sandwiched between small-holdings to the left and the Canal to the right. It was glorious! After 10km or so with nothing but the sound of our crunching tyres, we headed east towards the beaches and through the small town of Praia de Vagueira where we stopped for a few mins to take in the views out to sea. The next 10 or so kms were more or less the same as earlier in the day, with a bit of a beach-side boardwalk added into the mix. It was after 35 km or so that things started to change and we entered a dystopian world of charred trees; baked tarmac and sand dunes. And it was roasting!
Although we didn't know it at the time, this would stretch on for 40km and it wasn't long in to this section that we were thankful that we'd opted for gravel bikes as the pave was poor to say the least. Although it was baking hot, dusty and hard work, there wasn't a vehicle, other than the occasional JCB, nor a soul in sight. If it wasn't for the challenging terrain, it could have been a little dull to be honest, as the road was Roman-esquely straight. But the bumps, craters and sand, mixed with the charcoal landscape stopped the mind from wondering. It was great fun!
The heat, slow-going and numb fingers made for a long morning. I'd guess the first 20km section took well over 2-hours, and the belly started to rumble. I don't normally like looking at the phone when I'm on a mini-adventure, other to take photos, but it really did feel like we were in Mad Max country. I.e. in the middle of nowhere. After a quick reccie at a crossroad, we weren't actually too far from a small town, so we headed west down another Rua de Praia towards the seaside village of Praia de Tocha. Tocha was a sweet and unassuming little village with bucket and spade shops, cafes and a white sand beach for days. We pootled down the promenade for a short way and pulled up at a bustling taverna - the Cafe Restaurant Avenida. Although we're both veggie, the locals were tucking into some impressive looking seafood and pizzas, but I opted for the local delicasy of chips, a Super Bock and a plate of bread and oil.
The sun was shining and our bellies were full of nutritious carbs, and it was hard to leave, but alas, the open road awaited. We headed back on ourselves up the Rua de Praia and turned south again, back into the inspiring wasteland. It was more-or-less business as usual for the next 15km as we headed towards Foz. Unforgiving gravel, squeaking saddle and the short but sweet relief of random perfect tarmac. However enjoyable it was, it was a relief when the road started to improve as we neared Quiaios and the outskirts of Foz.
As we crossed the 55km mark, the gradient ever-so-slightly started to creep upwards by 0.5-1%. It wasn't huge, but it was noticeable. The next 20km or so were actually quite non-descript now we were back on decent tarmac, apart from the brief glimpses of the coast as we slowly climbed higher. At 71km we encountered the first and only 'climb' of the day that took us a bit by surprise. Thighs burning, and sweat dripping, we crested the climb - if you can say that for a 150m hill - and were eventually treated to an impressive view over our final destination. The run down in to Foz was pretty steep to start with, but through residential streets so we weren't bothered by town traffic. The roads winded down to the sea front where we rolled along a pleasant promenade that skirted the ginormous beach (Europe's largest apparently), passing numerous bars and eateries. I suspect in more normal times, the place would have been heaving with holiday-makers. It was nice if not a little characterless. But blimey it was windy.
We took a side street up a short hill to the hotel and after a brief panic, the staff kindly let us leave our bikes in the staff area, much to our relief. Although relatively short, the day had felt like a long one. I guess it was the baron heat-scorched paths and the change in landscapes that took it out of us; but a cool shower and a freshen up sorted things out. Not to mention the litre of water I didn't realise I needed. After heading to the beach for a wonder and for a blustery jug of white sangria (which was great) our now wobbly legs and rosy cheeks took us to an interesting restaurant come bar in an old converted fort. We spent a couple of hours here and caught the sunset and cheerfully guzzled a couple more cocktails sheltered in a turret. Rather ashamedly, this drove us to the decision to grab a take-away pizza and have the rest of the evening in-front of BBC World Service on the gigantic bed. Shameful, but it was quiet and a bit chilly, and to be honest, we were pretty spent.
Day 3: Figuera de Foz - Obidos
Key stats: 117km, 949m+,
Pave: Decent tarmac, odd stint of gravel.
Accommodation: Casa Picva
The day started with, yep you guessed it, another tray-based breakfast. It certainly wasn't as good as the day before but it hit the spot. Again it consisted of the usual pastries, coffee, yoghurt, fruit et al. We decided not to hang around in Foz for too long. As nice as it was, we weren't overly enamoured with the place, so we swiftly checked out, went through the faff of strapping the bags back on the bikes and hit the road not long after 8. Being on the west coast, it took a little while for the sun to really get going, but it certainly wasn't chilly! I was really looking forward to today. Not so much the riding, but for the unknown. I hadn't really spent much time looking at Obidos, nor the accommodation, but it looked like a unique place to stay, and I was looking forward to exploring.
Today was the longest and bumpiest day of the trip. The stats aren't too daunting on paper, but when fully laden and a wee bit hungover, these things always seem to take longer than on an normal day. Anyway, opposite to the way in to Foz, we left it on the way up. And out over another bridge that took us over the Rio Mondego and the mass of marshy farmland of the Ilha da Morraceira towards Gala, before then shifting south again alongside the Rio for a short time.
The earlier parts of the ride involved periods of peaceful pedalling through forested national parks (Mata Nacional do Urso & Pedroagao). The only real and much appreciated difference being the immaculate cycle lanes, rather than the gravel-ridden roads as the day before. After around 40km, we veered east again and picked up the arrow-straight coastal roads again and pootled down past Pedrogao, and then to the coastal spot of Praia de Viera. The town had similar vibes to Tocha. A wide promenade, tourist shops, bars and cafes, albeit on a lightly smaller scale. And of course, the obligatory beach stretching as far as we could see. Looking down at the beach, it was littered with small striped, almost Blighty-esque canvas beach shacks enclosed on all sides. If I was to guess, they were mostly empty, but I imagine they'd come in handy when the wind from the west decided whip up a frenzy. Anyway - we spent an hour or so sat in the sun at a little beach bar and devoured another beige and nutritious lunch and a beer whilst watching the leaner surfers flounder in the waves. May I add - bloody cold waves having dipped my feed for a few seconds! So rather them then us in this instance.
It was sad to leave the beach behind again being honest. But there are certainly worse places to be getting back on a bike. We cycled in silence for a while, taking in the scenery and the quiet of the trees as we passed through the Mata Nacional de Leira and the roads remained car free and the bike lanes as pristine as ever. Unsurprisingly, we continued south, parallel to the coastline, although it was in and out of sight throughout the afternoon, with the occasional glimpse of a solitary surfer or bather; and that was it in terms of life. Perfect.
At 70km we arrived on the edge of Pedra do Ouro – a small-ish and pretty-ish seaside town with an immaculate beach. Here, the map – God bless Wahoo – showed a boardwalk at the rear of the beach, perfect for a little cycle. Not long in we realised it was fake news and we had to dismount. Rather than head back to the road, we stripped out shoes and socks off and decided to push our bikes along the sand and have a bit of a paddle. Admittedly it was a bit of a slog, but it was worth it for a beer and an ice cream at the far end.
It was a buzzing little spot, with suffers – mostly hip German’s, coming and going between their VW vans and the bar, and locals eager for a chat – on reflection it was another one of those spots where I could have spent the rest of my days quite happily surfing, playing dominos, and sipping Sangria. The way ahead started with a little climb up and over a section of cliffs. Spurred on by the Aleeez-awing of donkeys and bleating goats at the roadside, we made our way up the gravel road to which we were treated with a view of the Atlantic and the cliffs of the Serra Pescaria.
The way down and back up the other side into the 'town' were quite busy with people going to and from the beach. We were treated to an obligatory close-pass by an impatient person driving a car; but as it was the first and last time, so the less said about it the better. The road flowed past villas and smallholdings before dipping back down to the beach. I forget what day it was but there were a good number of locals pulling up and parking, which made the descent a bit hairy, but we made it, and then we were treated with a sharp steep climb up and down through Nazare and along the beachside and 177m up Pescaria before another descent into Sao Martinho do Porto. We decided to stop again as the weather was glorious, and grabbed another beer and snack in the shadow of the small port and the beach, ready for the final push towards Obidos.
The final push headed inland towards the city of Caldas de Rainha. I can't say I remember the city, but it's claim to the tourist trail is phallic pottery, apparently. From here, the lush green fields of the Portuguese countryside were upon us and we wheeled past fields of apple trees, fig trees and lot and lots of squash. It was around here we got our first glimpse of the walled town of Obidos in the distance. It must have been an impressive sight for a horse riding peasant to behold all those years ago - and it was equally impressive for a bike riding one. I grabbed an apple from a nearby orchard and pushed on up the small cobbled climb towards Obidos, where we would spend the night at the charming Case Picva and it's many antiques and cracking breakfast.
Obidos is a charming place. A little bit touristy, but still charming. There are plenty of restaurants, bars and cafes to cater for all tastes, and best of all, it's situated in the old castle walls which you are free to wonder on and explore, all without the comfort of safety rails. Health and safety is overrated anyway.
Day 4: Obidos to Ericiera
Key stats: 64km, 892m+
Pave: Decent tarmac, odd stint of gravel.
Accommodation: Reserva FLH Hotels
We woke up early and took a coffee in the small, but delightful, orchard in the garden of Casa Picva. The sun was rising, and the mist was settling like a blanket on the rolling hills spread out before us. It was a little nippy sat in our days' old lycra, but it didn't matter. It was tranquillity. I know I've gone on about breakfast on the other days; but this one really was superb - and it wasn't on a tray. Seated on a grand table, surrounded by ancient family heirlooms, we were treated to homemade curds, jams, honey from the garden, home-made bread (still hot), and fresh juice made from the fruit in the garden. It. Was. Delicious! We even got a low-down of the family history and some of the antiques filling the breakfast room.
We knew we had a humpy day ahead of us and we were a bit sad to leave Casa Picva, so we were dragging our feet a bit. All good things come to an end though, as they say. We still had another warm, sunny, work-free day ahead of us - so not all bad.
We rumbled down the cobbles on to the route, heading south-west towards the coast again. The sun was hot already. Very hot in fact. If you are into crisping up your cycling-short tan lines, you would have been in your element. The first 10km+ of the route were nice, but pretty non-descript. We cycled on quiet roads past countless orchards, and strangely, fields of butternut squash.
The first of the days' noticeable inclines came at 10km that rose through the sleepy town of Olho Marinho, with it's blue and white church and crumbling ruins, before plateauing through more crop fiends, eventually dropping down to the town of Lourinha at around 20km. We didn't stop here, merely descending and ascending in and out. We were slightly bemused by the replica dinosaurs dotted through the town - only to find out later that it was the site of some important prehistoric discoveries, lending it's name to the Lourinha Formation.
The next stint on the route had us following the N247 road through Casal Nova, Ribamar and finally Maciera at around half-way. It was a rolling mix of countryside and residential areas -with many a crazy dogs (chained up luckily) to keep us motivated. After the descent down through Maciera the route turned more westerly towards Porta Nova and the coast - and after the baking interior, we were looking forward to a cooling sea breeze...and a beer.
Continuing on the N247, now with a new sea view, we crossed the Rio Alcabrichel into Porta Novo. Again, we chose not to stop here, although the beaches looked quiet and inviting, but instead we chose to continue to Praia Azul further up the coats, at around 45km. Here the beaches were equally as quiet, grand and inviting, as we pootled up the promenade to the south side of the beach. We were able to use a wooden walkway most of the way down the beach, before having to get the toes sandy - which was a delight -and push the bikes over a small bridge, back onto the route. Finally, here, we decided it was time for a stop and we parked ourselves at the al fresco bar / cafe, Acqua Beach Bar. Although small and relatively remote, it was filled with a chirping mix of locals and tourists, all enjoying white sangria.
Reminiscent to the day before, the route restarted up a sandy climb onto the top of the cliffs. It was a bit dusty so we kept our eyes down, but still able to admire the view of the Atlantic opening up beside us. The sandy track above the sea lasted for a couple of kilometres or so, and re-joined the trusty N247, and the suburbs again not long after. The next 20km or so seemed o go by quite quickly, although it was similar to earlier in the day. Bumpy. Hot. Quiet. Crazy dogs. Things seemed to change at around 60km when we were clearly reaching the outskirts of Ericiera. Sporadic houses and shops started to give-way to surf shops and restaurants. And the traffic started to become more noticeable.
Still tracing the coastline, one last punchy hill later, we arrived in the busting town of Ericiera. I wasn't sure I would like it being honest, as it was the most touristy spot on the route (bar Porto), but on reflection I enjoyed it. Bustling streets. A myriad of bars and restaurants. And a laid back attitude. Worth a stop.
Day 5: Ericiera - Lisbon (via Sintra)
Key stats: 60km, 755m+
Pave: Decent tarmac.
Accommodation: N/A
The last day of touring had finally arrived. Booo! Sore bum and burnt arms and legs aside, we were both pretty glum and pretty quiet for the first part of the morning. We were up against the clock to get the bikes back to the shop in Lisbon before it closed - we had ample time, but it still feels different when you have a limit looming over you. In a mild panic we took the decision to alter the route slightly to save 20km or so. Rather than following the coast all the way down and round to Lisbon, we settled on a more direct route inland via Sintra. This way it atleast meant we could see one of Portugal's main sights before ending the journey a bit earlier than planned.
After guzzling another buffet breakfast (which was great) we packed up and carried the bikes up from the basement. One thing to note of our experiences in Portugal was that every hotel was willing to accommodate the bikes. Whether in the hotel room, cellar, kitchen or makeshift area, all the staff went out of their way to ensure they could assist. It was really refreshing. We cycled down to a viewpoint and took one last longing look out over the sea, hugged eachother and set off inland towards the end of the trip.
I'm not going to write too much about the last ride, as it wasn't that enjoyable being honest. That's not true actually. The first 5-20 km were pretty nice. A familiar mix of quiet country roads, surrounded by forests and grassland - with views out to the impending hills around Sintra. This stint of the ride was quite hilly as we skirted the edge of the Sintra-Cascais Natural Park towards the climb up to Sintra itself.
We made our way up to Sintra from the north via Monte Santos and what we'd assumed would be a bit quieter. The climb itself was enjoyable. It was just very narrow, and we were being tailed by a long queue of traffic after a short time. With accompanying beeps. We made sure we pulled to the side when we could to let the cars pass, which meant it took longer than anticipated. But we made it! It was loud, hot, busy and stressful when we got to the top and the main square. This put me in a bit of a mood and I just wanted to move on straightaway. So we did after a can of coke and all that effort - without even a glimpse of the main sights.
The following 20km - mostly descending - was a strange mix of industrial zones, assumed social housing towers, and not much else. It remained pretty traffic-heavy as well as you would expect for a tourist hotspot, and on the outskirts of a capital city. It was only at around 45km when we crossed the rail tracks at Caxias and joined the Tagus-side cycle path that would be our final pave of the trip. It was a fitting, and quite beautiful end to the riding, taking us past urban beaches, sculptures and monuments including the Torre de Belem. All these were insignificant compared to the towering and iconic Ponte 25 de Abril that guided us through to Lisbon, and the end of the tour - after one final waterside beer of course.
..Fin..
