Bike Day 3 – Quarteira to Praia Da Rocha

As I was fumbling around town this morning trying to figure out which combination of roads would get me out of there, I realized that if 80% of the written directions for a trip like this are pretty good and 20% don’t correspond to any version of reality (this describes the directions for my trip this year), then all of the directions are useless because if you’re not on track, you don’t know if it’s because you’re actually in the wrong place or if you’re in one of those 20% portions of the directions. Having done this four times now, I’ve decided that I could be a pretty good direction writer, just in case you know anyone who’s hiring.

How many reasons can you think of not to get chicken at this place? Make sure to click on the image so that you can see the chicken before you total up your reasons. I’m imagining the owner talking to the painter saying “I want something that’s really going to pop and get people to stop here. Here’s my concept for the design . . .”















I rode for a while through this marsh, which is right behind a popular beach. There are a lot of areas like this here – beach, then dunes then brackish marsh.

I also have a picture of a Portuguese Water Dog walking around there that I was going to throw in, but I figured the turtles provided more than enough cuteness for one day.

Today’s ride was long, hot and dry. I rode for miles around places like this, where I was very glad to have lots of water, a spare inner tube and low gears.








Not the most engrossing video, but around here once you’re off the beach everything here is sere and dusty except where people water. How dusty? After I took a shower this evening, the towel I used to dry off with had brown spots from wiping off the dust that the shower didn’t get.

I try to be super alert when there’s traffic around, because the driving I've seen here can be pretty erratic. Like RV’s riding with two wheels up on the sidewalk (which would basically take me out if I were riding in front of them). Here’s my theory – most of the tourists here are from England, Scotland and Ireland, where everyone drives on the left. They rent vehicles and are so unsure about how far over to the right they need to be that they get nervous and overdo it. I’ve driven in the UK, so I know what that feels like. But I never drove on the sidewalk.

Speaking of Brits, this is a picture taken in Albufeira, the epicenter of bad, drunken British behavior during the summer. I was talking with someone who grew up here and he told me that people call Albufeira “the new Ibiza.” Then he hung his head in shame. I felt bad for the guy.










For tonight, I’m in Praia De Rocha, another beach town.

In this part of the Algarve, the towns aren’t at beach level; they’re at cliff level.

Nothing says “disconcerting” more than having a relaxing day at the beach just to find a 20-pound piece of cliff debris* come plummeting down on you or your companion. That’s why there are signs all over the beach telling people to stay near the water. “The beauty of Portugal. Come and get to know it up close. But not too close.”




But back to me, I checked into my room and was pleased to find that it has an outside balcony where I can dry the clothes I washed in the sink today. Tomorrow I’ll be ready to ride, with gear that smells refreshingly of Portuguese shampoo.

*”Cliff debris” is not my term. It’s the term used in the warning signs.