i'll take the high road

Portugal

Out of Évora through the oppressive heat. There aren't enough adjectives in the English language to describe this heat. In the semi-arid highlands that we head into, it is stifling and dry. Closer to the coast, it gains a humid sticky quality that coats every square centimetre of skin with thick beads of sweat. In either case, it is accompanied by relentless sun and a near-total absence of clouds. We drink water like fish and yet it is still not quite enough. Even our heavily tanned skin shows patches of red from mild sunburn. All in all, not something that a lifetime largely spent in Canada or the northern US prepares you for - just as we get used to one level of heat, we pass further southward into yet drier and hotter areas and must acclimate ourselves to another. This climate is not something to be trifled with, especially when we rely upon the exertion of cycling to get anywhere. The heat renders us short of temper - we must try harder and harder to keep the peace. The only way out is to bike, but that is sometimes too much. It has become necessary to stop altogether from 1300 to 1700 each day, and sometimes even until 1800; even with such a long siesta, we still find ourselves taking frequent breaks throughout the day when we are fortunate enough to find shade. That is another thing: the trees here have adapted to the hot and dry climate, so that they develop less bushy leaves and grow farther apart from each other. Neither characteristic is conducive to good shade, sadly. :(

We had hoped to reach Encinasola just across the border into Spain today, but must settle for the border town of Barrancos. In such a remote area, you would expect cheap food and lodging; instead, Barrancos takes advantage of its remote location and picturesque hilltop view to charge multiple limbs for substandard "duck rice" (essentially poorly-cooked rice with small chunks of duck meat). The only hotel open in town is 50€ for three people, which is outside of our budget - so we stealth-camp again, this time just out of town about a kilometre before the border into Spain. (Granted, August is high season in these parts; most shopkeepers get as far away as possible for a week before it hits.)

A bit of positive news, though - even with the minor setback of falling 10 km short of our goal for today, I think we will make Tarifa by 25.7...which means we can see Morocco before our visit to the Alhambra near Granada, even if only for 24 hours! It will be a mad dash, an endurance race of nearly camino-esque calibre...but we'll make it. We always do!