It was not going according to plan. The expected balmy temperatures of early fall were nowhere to be found, and my watch showed instead 40°C (105°F). The morning breeze had turned into a strong headwind, resisting my every pedal stroke and clinging to my face like a hot damp towel. What had seemed like a gentle slope on paper had turned into a never-ending uphill. The horizon flickered under the heat, but did not seem to get any closer.
In retrospect, I would repeat those 5 days and 500 km (315 miles) of cycling in a heartbeat. Some of that bravado comes from the fact that I am reminiscing from a comfortable chair under a cool shade, but it is also a realization that a certain degree of penitence is required to fully appreciate the beauty of inland Alentejo.
Away from the coastline and out of sight from the main tourist hotspots, this is a land of contradictions. The picturesque castles and fortifications, perched on every village and hilltop, hide a past of brawls that go back to the Romans and extend into the 19th century French invasions. The beautiful but barren golden landscapes, spotted only with occasional cork trees, reflect the region’s propensity for long periods of drought.
Stage 1: A climb to the bottom of a lake
A train ride and a ferry crossing left me at Tróia, the beginning of my journey. Pushed forward by a gentle tailwind and with views of white sandy beaches on the left and on the right, those first miles down the long and narrow peninsula went by quickly.
Before I knew it, I was in Alcácer do Sal. Pleased with the progress, I leisurely sat down next to the river, having a drink. The television of the nearby little coffee shop was showing the local news, fraught with accounts of farmers desperate with the prolonged drought.
When I finally got out of the shade and onto the saddle, the sun was already high and the temperature had increased sharply. I navigated out of town and found the road that would take me further inland, crossing those very same lands affected by the shortage of water. A few miles was all it took for reality to settle in: this was going to be much harder than anticipated. The oppressive heat pressed down on my back, while the headwind forced hot air down my throat. It felt like getting into a car that had sat under the sun for the entire day.
After a long winding uphill, I arrived to the Pego do Alter dam. Perched on the high plains of Alentejo, this dam was at the centre stage of the region’s dry spell. The basin had less than 10% of its full capacity, exposing the entire underbelly of the dam. Barren and worn-out, the entire setting wouldn’t seem out of place on a dystopian movie set. Adding to the Orwellian theme, somebody had sprayed back ‘Salazar’ to the dam’s nameplate (inaugurated in 1949, the dam was originally named after the fascist dictator that once ruled Portugal).
Further upstream, an old bridge sat on the middle of the empty reservoir, half hidden by fissured mud. Built in the 19th century to connect two neighbouring villages, it went underwater when the dam was built, and only becomes visible during the worst of droughts. I was in no mood to appreciate the irony of climbing the entire afternoon to find myself next to a bridge buried at the bottom of a lake, so I quickly got out the sun and went looking for a cool drink.
Stage 2: A ridge of high castles
On the second day I got back to the road slightly before sunrise, eager to advance as much as I could before the heat set in. The day’s stage would take me close to the Spanish border, riding a ridge of hilltop castles. The first one was at Montemor-o-Novo. There was not a single cloud in the sky, and the soft early morning light gently illuminated the town below and the surrounding grounds.
Alentejo is not mountainous by any stretch of the imagination, so the region’s fortifications were erected instead on any crest that was steep enough to offer a vantage point. Throughout history, that military tactic was put to the test numerous times. Romans, Moors, Portuguese, Castilians and the French built, sieged, defended, destroyed and rebuilt these forts many times over.
These castles share a history, but are by no means alike. Montemor-o-Novo’s fortifications, sadly in ruins, have uncertain origins that predate the Romans. Arraiolos has one of the world’s few circular forts. Evoramonte’s stronghold was built by Dom Afonso Henriques, Portugal’s first king.
Queen Isabel of Portugal, known for her negotiation and peacemaking skills, died in the Estremoz citadel. Vila Viçosa’s keep sits next to the Ducal Palace, the royal residence of Portugal’s last king.
But perhaps royal references are not what make these castles memorable. Shadowed by nearby Vila Viçosa, Alandroal is a small town with a population of less than 2,000. In the middle of this unassuming settlement is one of the most remarkable forts I have ever seen. It is not big, nor particularly well kept, nor does it possess any striking architectural elements.
But it continues to be part of the town’s day-to-day life. When I visited it, close to sunset, the entire village seemed to be there. While they attended church, I circled the castle’s walls. To get up there, I climbed the same steep steps used by medieval soldiers and scouts. The only concession made to modern times was a small and inconspicuous sign at the bottom of the stairs, welcoming lost tourists like myself to climb them, but warning that they were precipitous, slippery and devoid of any guard rails.
Stage 3: A bridge over a troubled village
The day’s stage started with a climb to Monsaraz, widely considered as one of the region’s most beautiful medieval towns.
Perched on the tallest hill of a mostly flat portion of Alentejo, Monsaraz offers a bird’s eye view of Alqueva, Europe’s largest artificial lake. In 2002, the construction of the Alqueva dam blocked the flow of the Guadiana river, and its basin slowly started filling up.
It only reached its full capacity in 2010, but by then what was once one of the poorest and driest places in Portugal had changed dramatically. Gone was the low yielding subsistence agriculture, replaced by fertile and abundantly irrigated fields. No other place in the world produced as much corn, olives and grapes per hectare as Alqueva.
But not everyone was happy. Environmentalists lamented the unique flora and fauna lost to the rising waters. Archaeologists entombed the remains of an old Roman fort in concrete, trying to keep it safe from erosion.
But perhaps the most striking compromise happened in Luz. Luz – which literally means “light” in Portuguese – was a small village that is now submerged under the dark waters of Alqueva. The twisted irony caused much grief to the village’s inhabitants, which witnessed their village being bulldozed over and its remnants slowly engulfed by the rising waters.
After descending from Monsaraz and crossing the long bridge that goes over the Alqueva lake, I stopped at the new Luz village, where the people of the old submerged village now live. The new buildings, despite being a faithful image of the old ones, lacked the character that perhaps only time can give them. I followed the main street till it abruptly ended in the lake. There was a sign, pointing to where the old village once stood, not far from the shore. To the left stood the church, with a cross apparently made with timber recovered from water, with limpets still clinging to its surface. To the right I could see a narrow boardwalk, which awkwardly meandered through dry land before reaching water. The entire setting seemed like a mausoleum, forever reminding residents of what they have lost.
Stage 4: The rolling golden hills
By the fourth day, the heat had subsided. Gone were the scars of the drought, the looming castles and the underwater villages. Removed of its hardships, Alentejo showed its softer side.
I spent the day rolling through the gentle slopes of lower Alentejo, enjoying a procession of golden fields set against deep blue skies. Allow me to digress for a moment on why I enjoy cycling. I find it akin to reading a book, an occupation that can demand as little attention as watching TV, to as much investment as a good conversation with a friend. Cycling through a long stretch of road is the same: stunning surroundings will capture my full attention; less memorable ones give me the opportunity to wonder about other things.
Stage 5: Following the river back to the ocean
For most of the final stage I followed the course of river Sado back to the ocean. As the river thickened, golden hills were replaced by rice fields, and then rice fields were replaced by fishing piers, till I was finally back to the open ocean.
As the amount of water increased, so did the hustle and bustle. Cars zoomed by me, while the horizon slowly filled up with buildings. Once back to Tróia, and while waiting for the ferry, I compared my present surroundings with those of the previous days. Would I prefer living with the busy comforts of the coast, or the serene discomforts of inland? I felt myself leaning towards the latter, but one perhaps favours what one has never had.
Verne*
Jules Verne Times Two 
I’m intrigued by the fact that this is the second post on Alentejo that I read in two days. I had never heard of it before, but obviously some people whose blogs I’ve been following for a while went to this region recently. That tells something! Then your description of this seemingly corner of Portugal as well as your sublime photos add to my curiosity. That bridge which is usually submerged is a poignant reminder of what humans can do to their surroundings, for better or worse.
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I was going to say the same thing, Bama! Guess we need to add this area to our list.
And great post, Verne – I enjoyed following along.
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Thanks guys! Alentejo is probably my favorite Portuguese region. Here’s a previous post about its coastline, in case you need further incentive to drop by 🙂
https://julesvernex2.com/2016/11/02/five-days-alone-hiking-the-fishermens-trail
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how absolutely wonderful to read this post.I recently walked the Camino de Santiago along the Portgues route and loved every minute of my days in Portugal and then Spain. The towns, hamlets and cities along the route are fascinating and the architecture incredible. I tried as much as possible to explore every one. Exhaustion, caused by the heat of the days clearly limited my energy, but oh, on the days I could….magical.
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Thanks Cindy! I did the Camino years ago, but would love to it a second time, this time with my camera 🙂 -Verne
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Nice meandering with you again. 🙂 🙂
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Thanks for dropping by, Jo! The next post will be about something I’m sure you know well: the Via Algarviana 🙂 -Verne
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Well, I know bits of it well. Never done the whole thing though, so I’ll look forward to your version. 🙂 🙂
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Hiked the whole thing, it was unforgettable 🙂
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I’ll share it on my walks when it goes up. 🙂
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Oh yes. How change has always “drowned” the past. It was like this in the past and continues today. Imagine that even for cities like Troy we can find ‘layers’ each older than the past. The case of entombing the old roman fort… some day perhaps centuries later it will be “rediscovered”
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The entombed fort is really something! Here’s a photo of the tomb before it was submerged: https://goo.gl/sQo1Pw
– Verne
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Lovely captures. I can see that the place does look hot and dry! Wonder how you cycled! The first pic of Monserraz with the house is super cute 🙂
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Indeed, the hot and dry weather made things much harder than expected! That house sits right in the center of Monsaraz, it’s worth going there just to see it 🙂 -Verne
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Fantástico, especialmente o “veículo”!
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O veículo porta-se bem, mas não me importava de ter um par de mudanças mais leves 🙂
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I do miss Portugal… Great pictures and entertaining read!!! But where’s Beja? 🙂
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Indeed, Beja and a good chunk of Lower Alentejo is missing! Clearly a second trip is needed 🙂 -Verne
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Clearly it is 😁
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Obrigada pela aula de história e adorei as lindas fotos tiradas por você ! O lugar ainda parece bonito apesar da interferência do homem na paisagem.
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Obrigado Márcia, o prazer é nosso 🙂 -Verne
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Worth putting up with tbe heat ( at least in retrospect ) to ride in this lovely area though harder on those suffering from the drought.
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Indeed, Alentejo generates conflicting sentiments. It is beautiful to visit but harsh to live on, particularly during these long droughts.
– Verne
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Já tinhas alma de agricultor, agora depois deste tour pelo Alentejo, ficas com alma alentejana!
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Não sei se alguma vez chegarei lá: o verdadeiro alentejano é demasiado inteligente para andar de bicicleta no pino do calor 🙂
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nice post! It is great to read about the history of the landscape and towns you’ve visited. By the way, that is a really nice bicycle you have got…
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Thanks Dennis. I love this bike. I built it piece by piece and don’t see myself ever getting rid of it!
– Verne
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I’m always saddened to see a empty reservoir, don’t quite know why but… hey, your great hand-drawn maps are back! Yay!
Fabrizio
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Thanks for reminding us of those, they should have never gone away 🙂
– Verne
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Wow! I just read you blog and realised I’ve been there, but wasn’t aware of all the history.
Here’s one of the locals https://snowgood.wordpress.com/2013/03/20/donkey-man-of-alentejo/
and what I was driving at the time
https://snowgood.wordpress.com/2012/01/25/set-free/
I’d love to to make your trip by bike – funny how bikes now mean more to me than cars.
Great story. Keep up the good blogging/biking.
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Yup, the gentleman with the a donkey is definitely an ‘Alentejano’ (inhabitant of Alentejo)!
Alentejanos are warm and curious folks that don’t need much of an excuse to stir up a conversation, and that vehicle sure gave them one 🙂
Thanks for reading, Stephen!
– Verne
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My pleasure – I’d love the car again – but a decent bike would be preferable!
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Same here! I would gladly get rid of the car and fill my garage instead with bikes 🙂
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Your photographs and words transported me to what is really a beautiful region, Verne. It must have been a tough five days though, but I can understand why you won’t hesitate to repeat it.
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Thank you Jolandi!
Alentejo is indeed remarkable. I had a tough time choosing the pictures for this post, as there were many other places I would like to have showed as well.
– Verne
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What a spectacular post, trip and views. And in that drought and heat when I was barely able to breathe. Did you ever consider departing in another, you know, more user-friendly season? But obviously you did well. I love it how carefully you choose and present the images. I always think of all the rest of them that you don’t show here. There must be heaps!
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Thanks, MMM!
When I planned the trip, weather forecasts were much more user-friendly. But, as my departure date approached, forecasts kept creeping up. Old age has made me forgetful, and I no longer quite remembered the last time I had cycled with 40+ degrees, so I decided to go anyway. Well, that memory came back really fast 🙂
Yup, I always take a bunch of photos! On this trip I took around 800, kept 400, and edited about 35 for this post. There’s some cool ones that didn’t make the cut, maybe we should launch a B-side 🙂
– Verne
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Heheh, yes, yes, please! B-side wins again! 😉
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Well you know what they say. “Adventure is just bad planning.” Awesome blog post!
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Good point! A quote by one of the early explorers of South Pole, right? Now that must have been an adventure 🙂
– Verne
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Glad you liked my country 🙂
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Gostamos pois, é também o nosso país 🙂 -Verne
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boa! nós estamos no norte 🙂
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Nós vivemos em Lisboa e temos andado mais pelo Sul do que pelo Norte, mas nos próximos meses vamos corrigir isso 🙂
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Digam-me se precisarem de ajuda. Parabéns pelo blogue 🙂
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Dizemos com certeza, parabéns também pelo vosso blog!
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I love your philosophy of riding… it’s much the same as mine for hiking. It can be meditative, and you can lose yourself in the rhythm of the steps/peddle-strokes and contemplate life, the universe and the simpler things —- or you can have all of your attention snagged by the incredible landscape surrounding you, heightening your senses, making you feel vibrant & alive.
Both are equally important, and powerful in their own right. But what I also like about the places you went here, and the length of time you spent on the road, is that sense of solitude… something that is so important to our wellbeing as well.
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Exactly, you put it beautifully! Alentejo is a great place to enjoy that sense of solitude. Sometimes I would ride for hours on those beautiful back roads without seeing a single car.
– Verne
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Beautiful! I’d love to see Portugal.
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Well worth a trip 🙂 -Verne
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