Silent Arrival in Sesimbra

Sunrise in Sesimbra

Hello friends, that’s it now – I made it, the journey is over – I reached my destination “Sesimbra” south of Lisbon.

I feel kind of empty; actually I still do not know how I really feel. Guess it all needs a little time to settle – it is defiantly not such a “High” as I experienced in Santiago – that was an absolutely exceptional moment in my entire life and I do not want to miss it in the world.

I will tell you now what happened after Santiago, how I arrived in Portugal and about some very lovely people I met cycling along the stunning coast of Portugal - and about my biggest fear on this entire trip that I did not know I would have so strong: Bridges!

When I woke up in the old Franciscan monastery in Santiago I faced a dull sky and a city in fading colours. It was almost like waking up with a hangover – just I did not have a hangover. Breakfast was fabulous and I cheered up by telling myself that at least it will not be so very hot to cycle for a change. So I got “Wilson” ready – I sometimes called my Bike “Wilson” as in “Cast away” although I generally do not give objects names. Just a little exception…

Getting in and out of cities by bike is a very unpleasant experience not only because it takes forever and because very often the “navi” leads you through the rough parts of town. City people seem to have no time they drive faster and tend to be more inpatient as people in the country. So they take over when they shouldn’t and sometimes leave only a very small and frightening gap between their car and the bike like 50cm.

This was no different for getting out of Santiago. When I finally arrived in the countryside things did not get any better. There were no more Camino signs that I could follow and no more like-minded people that one would occasionally come across and that I now missed like hell. I felt utterly alone for the first time since I had left Luxembourg – alone, empty and not very motivated. What I did not know then is that it was to get worse.

There was one national road leading to the coast, which was very busy with fast cars and very frequented with fat and noisy trucks. My Navigator let me away from the National Road through the remotest villages and through endless lonely woods, up and down the hills through streets that very often were not paved just very rough gravel connecting one small village with another remote small village and no Bars for “Café con leche” anywhere!

People were not used to see strangers as much as the people that live along the Camino and the few I saw were much more reserved but what was the biggest difference is that the dogs were not as carefully locked up in the properties that they were minding. So it happened what I was afraid off already before I left Lux. A dog, walked by a couple, came running at me and bit me in the calf. Luckily I only had bite marks that got blue later but no open wound. This all happened on a very steep climb and any cyclist amongst you knows how hard it is to get the bike driving again uphill (on gravel) once you stop.

Later the same day, another medium sized dog tackled me. He came running at me with his best fearsome barking outside a village. This time I was prepared and I used for the fist time ever an Ultra Sound thingy that I carried with me just in case and when I am totally on my own. As I had never used it I could not be sure if it would really work and luckily it did. I pressed the button once and the dog stood frozen and stared at me as if he could make no sense of what had just happened – and of course how could he. He turned around and run towards the next village – same direction as me. After a couple of minutes he stopped and turned round trying it again and I did it again too. After that it was obviously clear to him that this noise, which I cannot hear at all, came from me. We reached the village almost the same time and I saw him entering a farm through an open door behind which 2 more dogs were staring and barking at me. One of them, not knowing the story of what had just happened gave it a go at me and I felt I had not much of a choice but do it one more time. So he turned round and all 3 of them disappeared. I defiantly had enough for a day. I cycled for too many hours and made it all the way to Vigo, where I arrived when it was almost dark.

The next morning I decided that I will have no more of this and that I want to get to Portugal to the "EuroVelo1 track" as quickly as possible. So I spoke to a taxi driver if he knows a taxi that has a bike trailer and can drive me cross the boarder to the Portuguese coast. Alberto flipped his back seats down looked at me and in a mix of Spanish, French & English we said we would give it a try. Together we lifted “Wilson” into the back of his car and it fitted by the millimetre. When the back door of the car was closed we gave each other 5 and bursted out in a happy cheerful laughter. The sun was shining again and my mood as well. We had a pleasant drive to the coast, talking a lot and having fun. In Portugal everything was good again. I was surprised how many very good bicycle tracks they have along their most beautiful coast side.

Lovely Alberto

Porto was the next and last bigger city I had to cycle through. I saw 2 Cruise Ships in the harbour Aida and another and I had to cross a pretty high bridge. I already had trouble with all the bridges crossing the Loire – but this one was topping them. It had a small lane for food passengers and besides that it was actually a Highway road. So I took the lane for the people and was so terrified that I could not cycle but pushed my bike across always looking on the ground just 1 meter in front of me trying to avoid to look down.

I had to cycle under the bridge in order to get on top

Coming down from the bridge and on the shore again I cycled along a road where there was one restaurant after the other – busy, busy, busy. It was obvious that these restaurants lived off the people from the cruise ships. Unfortunately I did not take a picture otherwise I could have shown you that the complete street was in smoke. Each and every restaurant has an outdoor grill where they prepare fish and all of them make a hell of a lot of smoke.

The next day or the day after I met a group of cyclist from different countries who stayed in the same hotel as I did. The group was good fun; the mix of people, all my age, came from New Zeeland, US, UK and one from Australia. When I had told my story one woman gave me spontaneously a few Euros for the Charity. I asked her name she said write “From the Kiwis”. We stayed in a village called “Figueira da Foz”.

The Kiwis - Thanks for the Donation

From the beach I could see the bridge that needed to be crossed the next day and I felt that I would not be able for that one - too high – too long – which meant I would have to cycle one more day to cycle around it; time I did not really have. So I talked to the group and the tour guides if I could join them, the next day for the crossing.

They started at the beach at 8:30 – One woman of the group was a Yoga teacher and they had made it a procedure to do a few exercises before cycling, everybody joined in.

The Cycling group doing their Yoga

One of the tour guides was by bike and led the group; the other was in a support car behind shielding the group from the traffic where necessary.

Stephen a guy from the US cycled behind me, everybody else was in front of us. I felt so secure and protected by Stephen, knowing he is behind me, and knowing that if I would get off my bike and push it he would stay with me. Thanks for that Stephen should you read this blog and thanks for the Donation again. Thanks to the whole group for the encouragement.

Thank you Stephen for giving me security and thanks for the Donation too

I swear I never, ever, ever want to cycle across a bridge like that again in my life. I cannot describe the fear I was feeling I have no words for it, with the trucks next to me making so much side-wind and my bike shaking, my hands griping on to the handle bar until they were all white, the fence of the bridge not really high enough, I seriously thought that a strong wind would push me over it.

After the crossing we parted and I made my way alone again.

I cycled through endless burned woods, endless ...

The rest of the cycling to Sesimbra was all very pleasant, driving through villages were everybody waits at the shore for the catch of the day to come in, through villages were people hang their clothes in the streets to dry if they have no garden, eating fresh fish and salad every evening – Heaven!

People waiting for the catch of the day

Last part of my journey was on a ferry cross the river from Lisbon. From there it was only about 28 km left to cycle to Sesimbra where I am sitting now on a decking of the hotel I am staying in, overlooking the Atlantic.

View from the Ferry

When I came down the ferry I noticed that my Bike rack was broken on one side. I re-arranged my luggage to have no weight on that side and cycled like this for about 5km but it did not work. The rack had no stability anymore and the luggage pressed the mudguard onto the wheel, which made cycling impossible. I was stuck in a place with no shade no house and a big road and did not know what to do next. In the end I called the Hotel I had booked “Hotel do Mar” and asked for help in my desperate situation. The man I talked to asked me to hold the line for a little while and I listened to Vivaldi until he was back. He told me that in 30 minutes a taxi will come the driver is Alfredo and I am to see with him if the bike fits. Alfredo came in a Mercedes estate and within no time Wilson and the luggage were in his car and I am on my way to my final destination.

So I did not arrive here “heroically” cycling my way in but totally unspectacular by taxi – however endlessly happy that Alfredo got me out of my misery. Thanks Alfredo, Thanks to the helpful person on the phone of this hotel that I still need to meet.

Sesimbra is a nice little village, the weather is still very hot, the Atlantic is calm you could not ask for more.

Yesterday I met Cristina and Felicia from the municipality of Sesimbra, for a chat and a picture, which was very nice. The community I live in Niederanven has a partnership with Sesimbra. They gave me some lovely local presents, which was very unexpected and I get to visit the Museums for free – Thank you so much for this and for the time spend with me.

Cristina

In the evening I bumped into Lucas from Argentina and Cristina from Spain, we met looking at the Tuna, which was on a table outside a restaurant and within no time we had the most lively and happy conversation like old friends.

Lucas and Christina - Thank you for the wonderful laughter we shared

The Tuna which connected us

So now that’s it.

The official trip is over after roughly 3300km on the bike and 37 different beds I slept in.

And YES I learned something very important - I learned to love myself.

Everything else I leaned I will be happy to share with you when we meet in person.

On Monday I will take the plane to the Azores and spend a bit of time there. My best friend and her daughter will join me in the second and third week and I am very much looking forward to it.

I might write another Blog-Article about the Azores if I feel like it.

The Charity Page in Facebook and on this Blog will stay open until November when I am back home.

Some of you might want to donate only now - that I did it.

If you do not want to donate - not an issue, I will still like you :).

I know we all donate to different charities over time – luckily most of us are in the fortunate position that we are able to do this.

Now, that’s really, really it - at least for today

Love Rebecca

Below a few more images of the last days in Portugal

Santiago de Compostela – Place of Hope and Emotion

A very happy and grateful me

I will talk a little bit about the last days of my “Pilgrim part” of this journey, before I tell you what it was like to arrive on the “Plaza del Obradoiro” at the Cathedral.

I have no clue how long it took me from Pamplona to here – I do not count the days backwards. Many long, hot cycling days are behind me and a couple of passes that were very challenging to cross. In my last posting I forgot to tell what it is all about the “Buen Camino” This is how Pilgrims greet each others and also many locals along the way say “Buen Camino” when they meet you.

In the morning when everybody is fresh and when it is not so hot yet the “Buen Camino” is usually quite cheerful with happy intonation – as the day gets older and the sun stands higher you will see the Pilgrims walking more in a bend posture and the “Buen Camino” sounds more monotones but still always friendly.

After the first set of mountains I cycled through the Rioja region and that I liked a lot. I noticed about myself that I am always most happy when I cycled through regions where people grow wine, fruits and or vegetables. I love seeing how things grow that I enjoy eating it gives me a very warm pleasurable feeling. Then came a region between Burgos and Leon, I think, where it felt I was cycling for days through a highland where they grow grain and it was mostly all harvested – very boring and monotonous to me - I saw myself looking at the navigator of my bike much more often then normally and thinking “What! Still so much left to go – will it never end?”

The songs in my head and not only in my head I sang out really loud at this time where “I’m still cycling” (Thanks Elton Jon) and mostly self-made songs that I made up as I was singing. These songs had a bit of a gospel touch to them. I felt that I had an idea how these songs developed when people where working hard in the fields, the sun burning and the only way to keep going is singing mantras to not feel the pain.

I was surprised about a very old German song that appeared and that I heard myself singing in a canon with myself. The Original is called “Alles is eitel Du aber bleibst” – I sang “Alles ist einsam Du aber bleibst und wen Du ins Buch des Lebens schreibst” See if you can find it in Youtube – it is actually quite nice.

After the long stretch of theses grain fields, which felt a little bit like the plains in Alberta, the mountains came slowly back.



One day I had set myself a target of 110 km but did not check the altitudes/elevation rate sufficiently. When my “navi” showed its only 22 km left I started feeling the joy of looking forward to that cold beer and salad soon-ish. And BOY was I wrong this time! The last kilometres was a Pass to climb of 1360 meters. “Sugar!!” I had no choice but to keep going as there was also no village in-between. The good side of this was that I cycled into the evening light and the mountains were lid up so beautiful that my heart filled with gratitude and stillness looking at it.

Beautiful Galicia

I arrived in my Hostal half past 8 it was already dark and luckily the place was wonderful and I also still got something to eat.

View from my window after the long cycle

After that I was smarter and planned the trip that I stayed the night right in front of a Pass so I could tackle it first thing in the morning. The place I stayed in that night was in a tiny village ) a beautiful stone house (Casa Rural Pandelo) that stood in the garden of Emilia. Emilia is an old-ish lady, the back already a little bend, stern looking at first but then it turned out she has a heart of gold. Emilia kept talking to (at) me in Spanish endlessly until I had understood everything she told me; that the apples on the table are from her garden and I can take as many as I want, that there are 2 Restaurants and a shop and that in this house people sleep and do not party etc…. When I left the next morning she kissed me on the cheeck said “Buen Camino” and that I am to give the Apostel a hug from her when I arrive in Santiago.

Yesterday when I had left in Portomarina there was suddenly an explosion of pilgrims on the path – with light luggage. The story is that in order to get you Pilgrim Certificate you have to walk 100 km or cycle 200 km minimum – and I had crossed that line.

It were so many of them that I stopped saying “Buen Camino” and only said it when I met someone with “serious Luggage”.

Did I learn anything on the Camino?

I thought I did – I kept thinking a lot about humans, relations, tolerance and openness with each other and that I will not allow people anymore to spread poisonous thoughts around when they are with me. It is good for nobody.

And then came the new specious of pilgrims and all my good thought of tolerance vanished. I felt they are not REAL pilgrims and just walking noisy people and all kinds of stuff. There was a little battle in my head. What business of mine is it what their motivation is and what do I know anyway?

To prepare for the arrival in Santiago I decided to stay the night about 20 to 30 km away from Santiago so that I would have plenty of time the next day and would arrive not to exhausted and not to late in the day.

The place I stayed was ever so, so beautiful – it was an old long stone house in the middle of nowhere with a beautiful garden, a little restaurant and a bar. It is run by a lovely, very friendly and helpful couple (Albergue Turistico in Salceda).

The Hosts in "Albergue Turistico"

I got to talk to nice people from Israel, Kiel (Germany) and a few Americans. The couple from Germany had similar feelings like me about the “invasion” of Pilgrims.



Today I woke up and my nasty feeling had disappeared and I felt ready for Santiago. I had put on a set a freshly washed cycling cloth and my “Fondation Cancer T-Shirt”. I had asked if I could clean my bike for the special occasion of the day and the lady switched on the hose for me.

All ready I left the Albergue and set out. It was a misty and cold morning and the scenery was beautiful – For once I had enough time to stop and take pictures and just look. The path lead through beautiful old forests, which were looking kind of magical in the misty light. There were less Pilgrims on the way then the day before and I greeted them all with “Buen Camino”

I slowed down more and more as if I wanted to delay the special moment of arrival in Compostela - I was worried that I might burst out in tears. When I came closer to the Plaza I put on my sunglasses and for the last km I pushed my bike.

And then there I was on this huge place and sure enough I bursted out in tears and I do not really know why but I could not hold it back for an eternity.

It was WONDERFUL to see all the people arriving after such a long time. Very, very touching to me.

Now I am sitting in the bar of the hotel while I write this. I am staying in “San Francisco Hotel Monumento” and old Franciscan convent - parts of the building from the 13th Century – fantastic.

I will go for Dinner now and then plan my trip to Portugal.

Love - Rebecca

Buen Camino

Ola, I reached Spain after racing down the Atlantic coast in France, realising that the Spanish mountains will not be easy and that I could run short on time to reach “Sesimbra” in the end.

I also changed plan and do not cycle the “Camino del Norte” but opted for the traditional Camino with a total of 5000 instead of 7000 meters to climb. At my last night in France I met two cyclists who also wanted to drive the Camino. They had a support car with them and offered me a lift of approximately 40 km to the place where they wanted to start their journey, closer to Pamplona, which I happily accepted – one mountain down.

So here I am on the Camino and I want to tell you about some my first experiences.

The majority of people I meat so far are from Spain, USA, Canada, South Korea, UK, Germany and from Tasmania.

He was the most heart refreshing person I met in a long, long time. I had just climbed (pushing my bike) a really long climb and sat down on a bench for a break and some water when these 3 people came up the same way. I asked them if they would like me to take a picture of them and they were very happy and I got given 3 cameras.

They appeared like old friend while in fact they just got to know each other on the Camino. One was from Wisconsin one from somewhere in the US and the one from Tasmania. So they sat down as well and started sharing their treasures that they carried around with them. Lovely fresh bread, goat cheese, grapes and the Tasmanian had one of those Spanish goat skin water bottles filled with wine, telling us it’s only allowed to fill them with wine. Then he unwrapped a long, hard salami kind of sausage announcing that finally the moment has come to try it. And he bit into it with a joy I have rarely seen - ever. It was wonderful and the only important thing at that very moment in his life (this is how it felt). So we chatted along about how wonderful life is and the food and the weather and the view and that this is all that matters and celebrated our newly born friendship and experience in common. We had a great time, great laugh and when we parted he said “Thank you for sharing your story”

Happy People

In the afternoon the same day I twisted my ankle while pushing the bike over really uneven rocky ground. It did not feel good at all and I decided to check into the pharmacy of the little village in which I found accommodation for the night. It was a tiny little pharmacy with a hipster kind of looking pharmacist and 2 English-speaking customers beside me. They showed the pharmacist one after the other their blisters and little injuries of their feet and he took all the time in the world to talk to them and give advice – totally specialised on feet. Later I met them both back in the only Bar of the village where we had a pint or two and paella together telling us our stories.

Most pilgrims are my age and older or really young – Students and pensioners

Time to move on for today.

There are places with fresh water and benches to rest in every little village

One more thing – The picture below shows a table with fruit and a sign Donation – That was on top of a very steep climb and it was all fresh and there was nobody and no house or anything close by – Some good soul is doing this for the pilgrim. Isn’t that really just beautiful?