Sitting in the kitchen of The Rectory in Pomeroy, County Tyrone, where my grandfather spent the first 18 years of his life, I finally feel the connection to my Irish roots. Not only do I actually feel a quarter Irish now, but I’m truly proud of my Gaelic heritage. There was no guarantee that my search would turn out this way – all I knew was that my great-grandfather was a vicar at the church in this little village in the centre of Northern Ireland. Driving up the High Street in the inevitable Irish rain I held out little hope as, like so many tiny villages in Ireland, there were three churches to choose from; after learning about and trying to understand the island’s history, it is so intertwined with religion throughout the centuries, so perhaps this was to be expected. Having already ascertained that the Irish are amongst the most friendly and welcoming of people, we were hopeful that someone may come to our rescue, so ventured into the Post Office in the village square. The lovely ladies in there couldn’t have done more to help us, giving directions to a verger with a set of keys to the central church (just a hunch this could be the one) while also showing us pictures of how the village looked in 1901, the year my grandfather was born – barely changed over 120 years later. On our way to the keyholder’s house, we stopped to chat to a lovely, lively lady, Flora, who proudly told us that she was 91 years young, had lived in the village all her life and now, after a recent death, was Pomeroy’s oldest resident! Utterly charming, Flora was interested to hear about my family connection and pointed us in the direction of the Rectory – is it the strong community spirit here or all that Irish rain that makes for such delightful, chatty locals?! The key holder wasn’t at home, so we were very grateful to our chance meeting with this wonderful nonagenarian for her tip, as we continued down the hill to the Rectory. Knocking on the door with trepidation, we still had no idea if we were on a wild goose chase, but couldn’t have been more delighted to find the current tenant was not only at home, but immediately offered to help us on our quest by calling another verger……and so it was, that we found ourselves sitting in their kitchen, having a cup of tea with the owners and the best key holder of them all – Hazel. Hazel immediately confirmed that my great-grandfather had been the Parish vicar for 27 years and this was indeed the house where he and his family lived; quite an emotional moment for me imagining my grandfather, the youngest of 7 children, spending his childhood in this house and it’s glorious garden. After much chat (did I mention how friendly the Irish are?!), we finally jumped into Hazel’s car whereupon she brandished the much sought-after keys and the door to the Altedesert church was finally opened. Whilst we perused this beautiful church, seeing the plaque erected to my great-ancestor, Rev. Glenn, along with one for his eldest son who died in the Great War, Hazel was rummaging through the church vault in search of records kept by this meticulous Reverend whom she remembered as having really large, clear writing – she clearly knew a great deal about this church’s history. In this digital age, it’s a great joy to see hand-written records and when the huge books were finally located, it felt very special to flick through them and see records of each service, the number in the congregation (average 150 – he obviously did a grand job looking after his flock!) and even the quite considerable offertory takings. Whilst we pored over these ancient records, Hazel was delving even further back in the vault until she finally found what she was looking for……a record of baptisms. And there it was – written by the now unmistakable hand of my great-grandfather; my grandfather, Robert William Lowry Glenn’s baptism performed in that very church by his own father. What a moment – I felt as though I had won the lottery! Obviously, finding my great-grandfather’s grave was too much of an aspiration, but Hazel suggested that we look in the church of his birth place……you will have to read til the end to discover the most extraordinary and unexpected coincidence that came about later, whilst on the path of my fellow Irish roots tracer and life adventure companion, Giles.

Yes, it turns out that our families have an unexpected common link!

You may be wondering why we were in Ireland in the first place. Having been too busy living life and not having had time to write my blog for far too long, a quick recap: I’m still a long-haul airline pilot, living in the Algarve with my gorgeous man Giles and equally gorgeous dog Sandie who still loves getting out on the road in Skye, our perfect little home-on-wheels. This is now the third summer when we have left the heat and crowds of the Algarve behind and headed off on an extraordinary road trip. The goal is also to find somewhere that is within an easy commute to London for my work trips and I’m extremely fortunate to have the support of Giles in this endeavour, as it also means that he ends up with the lion’s share of the driving. So, although I had to fly to Washington and Los Angeles, Giles had a much more punishing travel schedule, driving from the Algarve all the way to Rennes in Northern France, without the luxury of an autopilot and with just his co-pilot Sandie to keep him company! We had a truly magical fortnight in Northern France (hopefully the subject of a future blog……dependant on whether Irish rain keeps us “van-bound” and Irish pubs aren’t too beckoning!!), a few weeks in England, a couple of days in Wales (see photos below for a selection of our activities) before making the Fishguard-Rosslare crossing. If our first nightstop is anything to go by, our 5 weeks in Ireland are going to be remembered by stunning empty beaches, glorious sunsets and friendly, chatty locals!

On our way up to Dublin, we had a great climb up a hill in the Wicklow mountains, discovering firsthand what a peat bog really is, as Giles almost completely disappeared from view in one, having fallen down a big crack! The great city of Dublin treated us royally, with a wander through the thriving Temple Bar district and an Irish Stew (and Guinness, of course!) in front of the famous pub at night and then a full tour by bike the following day, finding ourselves inadvertently scooped up in a Pride march just outside the illustrious Trinity College Dublin. This was the first port of call, as my grandfather travelled from Pomeroy to study medicine at this esteemed institution, Ireland’s oldest University. Walking around, I couldn’t help reflect that my grandfather would have trod the same paths and it was a real ‘moment’ on the start of my Irish roots quest – little did I know what would lie ahead! Time was cut short in this lovely city as I had to fly back to England that night for my work trip the following day – but just time enough to pop into a pub on the way to the airport to take in the second half of the Irish football semi-finals, an exciting mix of football, rugby and basketball. Taking place in Croke Park, a few miles away, it was good to see a packed crowd, with good-natured supporters from both teams thrown in together. This was testified by Giles who managed to bag himself a ticket to the Finals the following day!

Arriving back into Belfast a few days later, we made out way out to Islandmagee for a cliff walk at “The Gobbins”. Suspension bridges and walkways that had initially been built in 1910 led us to the great bird nesting site at the end where we were told that there could be a small chance of seeing a puffin. The sight and sound of all these birds launching from their nests clinging to the cliff-face was something to behold with the cry of “puffin” being the icing on the cake, as we watched a small black bird with an orange beak land awkwardly on the water (relieved to say that my landings are somewhat better!).

The city of Belfast was next with a highlight being a trip around the “peace walls” – most people take the ‘Black cab tour’ but I took the ex-serving Army Officer’s motorhome tour instead!! We’ve worked hard to understand the background and history that led to this island being divided in two and the so-called “Troubles”, but seeing these huge walls, murals and double gates brought it all home to me; I have a small understanding now of the deep-rooted feelings on both sides and am amazed and relieved that the Good Friday agreement brought an initially fragile peace that has now held for over 30 years…..long may it last 🙏

The other thing we had on our tourist list for Belfast was to see the ship building district and visit the Titanic museum, having listened to the excellent “The Rest is History” podcast series which gave us the background to the growth of this city from linen factories and ship building, along with an inkling into the poverty and divisions within the workforce. We enjoyed working our way through this superlative museum which has been created so sensitively – there is a moving memorial to the huge loss of life situated in the centre of the dry dock where the ship was built in 1911, along with a fascinating account of the underwater search for the wreckage that only succeeded on its very last day of funding. It was all so clever with displays like life-size dominoes each outlining a safety omission (and subsequent rectification) that all came together to topple this ‘unsinkable’ ship and a huge eerie ghost-like ship model slowly turning, suspended from the ceiling in a darkened, cavernous room, making us feel as though we were underwater, seeing photos floating up of those who went down with her. The experience was topped off by a revisit of James Cameron’s famous film (admittedly it took us 3 nights to get through it!) – if anyone is visiting Belfast, then I cannot recommend this museum highly enough, it was wonderful.

And so, back to tracing our Irish roots! Giles spent the first 6 years of his life growing up in a beautiful house in County Donegal, just over the border from Londonderry and we had a very happy visit with the man who used to help with the farm all those years ago. We then headed to Fahan, a small fishing village where he remembered going to church and playing in the rock pools and found the most fantastic spot for the night, right beside Lough Swilly. After a long walk on the beach and a bracing swim the following morning, we went in search of his grandparents’ graves which we found in the small church cemetery. And the coincidence – remember back to Hazel suggesting that my great-grandfather might be buried in the place of his birth? Well, out of all the places in Ireland, it turns out that this tiny hamlet was where he was born……what were the chances of that?! So, not only do I now feel more connected to my Irish roots, I also share a very special place in my past with my special man ☺️

Now, please get on and issue that Irish passport for me!!

European roadtrip 2023 Part 4

If you were to guess the location of Europe’s biggest waterfall, would you come up with the Rhine River, less than an hour north of Zurich airport? It was certainly a surprise to me, but having since seen something of the tributaries and rivers leading into The Rhine, the volume of water flowing through this river is just enormous. Although not the highest falls, they are almost 500’ wide and the most striking thing about being up close to them is the thundering roar and vibration created by this raging torrent. Rheinfall (as they are known in Switzerland) can be seen from the Schloss (castle) perched precariously on one side of the river which allow you to get yourself into the mist generated. However, taking a boat trip was the best option; there’s a mighty rock lying in the middle of the falls that has withstood the continual battering of the hundreds of cubic metres of water that rush by every second. Alighting there (carefully!), we climbed up through the spray to the top and could really feel the force and magnitude of the Falls – we’d chosen a rainy day to do this which was prudent, as we got soaked anyway!

Rheinfall was an exciting unexpected surprise, as we were actually on our way to Schaffhausen, a medieval town in Switzerland’s north, on my list of “must-see” places. Apparently the town is known for its 171 oriel windows, although not knowing much about windows that didn’t really mean much to me. It turns out an oriel window is an ornate, protruding type of bay window (apparently so that women could peer out and see the activities below while remaining invisible!) and it quickly became impossible NOT to see them – they were on every old medieval building and were enhanced by the incredible painted designs on the walls. The question that sprang to mind is how on earth do they keep these lavishly painted facades looking so perfect……but everything in Switzerland is so perfect and organised that they surely have continual upkeep and renovations in hand. The traffic-free old town is considered one of the prettiest in Switzerland and it certainly didn’t disappoint, especially the old circular Munot fortress which can be seen for miles. The guard still rings the bell at 9pm every evening which used to be a sign that the town gates and inns should close – clearly not heeded these days, as we were soon to find out!

After looking around the old town and hoping that we’d spotted at least half of the special oriel windows, we decided to go on a bike ride along the Rhine. Switzerland’s bike network is simply outstanding; if there are not dedicated bike paths, then roads have special bike zones at each side and drivers tend to be very courteous – like everything in this marvellous country, it has all been well thought out and IT WORKS!!! There’s even a dedicated App that makes biking, hiking and cross-crossing the whole country effortless – along with a ‘Grand Tour’ App, they have really got tourism covered. The weather was gorgeous and we biked through woodland, fields of crops and villages scattered with wooden houses which were clearly hundreds of years old, where the living quarters on one side adjoined the cowshed on the other. And everywhere we looked, it was just perfect……all the flower boxes had perfect geraniums, there were no weeds to be spotted in the vegetable gardens and not a single piece of litter to be seen anywhere. When we reached our destination of Stein am Rhein, we were absolutely awestruck – all the visitor information had concentrated on Schaffhausen (the capital of the ‘canton’ or region) but as so often happens, the actual jewel of the land is just next door. This town seems to sport even more oriel windows and painted facades (becoming somewhat of an expert now!) and it felt that the town made much more of its position alongside the beautiful Rhine river. After the obligatory and much-enjoyed wild swim (being careful not to swim out too far – even so far from Rheinfall, the current was noticeably strong and we had no intention of getting any closer to it than the middle rock!), we cycled back on the other side of the Rhine through fields of sunflowers and more picturesque villages.

Yet again, our visit had coincided with the town’s Annual Festival and, although too late to get tickets to the Rita Ora concert (the Festival line-up had plenty of well-known artists – obviously, Schaffhausen is more well-known than previously thought), we finished our bike ride back at the central market square. Looking entirely different from our daytime visit, the place was packed with food-wagons and all the painted facades were now lit up by colourful random octopi and seaweed, giving the impression of an underwater world. With food and drink secured, all was going well until the heavens opened – however, the Swiss seem to be prepared for any eventuality and free plastic ‘coats’ were dispensed and the party continued. It was hard not to giggle at the sight of us in head-to-toe white plastic; sitting at a local bar, sipping wine that was getting diluted by the rain, dressed in full-body condoms whilst listening to Rita Ora sing live is not an evening we’re ever going to forget!!!

Our hunt for good swim spots took us next to the town of Baden, where research had uncovered the fact that the town had recently put in open-air “hot tubs” that make the most of the area’s natural thermal springs. As if Switzerland hasn’t already been blessed with the riches of endless clear water springs, “free” hydro-electric power, a good amount of sunshine for their prolific solar panels……it also gets free hot water! On either side of the Limmat River, three concrete pools had been constructed with the thermal spring supplying the top one which was a scalding 40°C. This filtered down to the middle one (around 38°C) and the lower one was a positive cool 36°C……a good way for the body to adjust and enjoy all the benefits of this water that is full of minerals to soften our skin. Once we made it to the top pool, we had another rather one of those unusual and memorable experiences (that often happen while travelling!); an interesting conversation with some delightful Swiss locals whilst sitting beside the road in our swimsuits!

Next stop was Zug and we elected to experience the Zugersee, the beautiful lake on which it sits, from alongside by bike. Zug is known as being a low tax town and, reputedly, 1 in 8 people here are millionaires……although even a pauper would have a “millionaire’s view” of lake and heavenly mountain backdrop here! From there, we headed to Lucerne, where yet again it was explored by bike – having the weight of a canine passenger (Sandie!) means that lakeside rides are more realistic; there is always a stunning view of reflected mountain around every corner and Lake Lucerne, the fourth largest lake in Switzerland, certainly delivered. Lucerne (Luzern in German) is ranked amongst the world’s prettiest cities and is known mainly for its 650 year old timber, flower-adorned, covered Chapel Bridge but also for its medieval old centre. Having got to know the lake by bike and swim, what better way to get to know the old city than by a locally-brewed beer beside the water’s edge…..now, that’s my kind of sightseeing!

Wanting to have a serious hike the following day, where you are just spoilt for choice with glorious mountains, we somehow narrowed it down to Mount Pilatus, a jagged mountain overlooking Lake Lucerne. We drove up towards it and, it was only when google maps said that we’d ‘arrived’ that we realised that we’d been taken to the next door valley, as the mountain was only accessible by cog railway or cable car. Sometimes, these unintended errors have a better result than originally intended, as we were deposited in a really quiet spot beside a river at the beginning of several hiking trails. Looking up at the mountain, all we could see was the vertical “wall” of granite, so assumed this would be impassable without full rock-climbing gear. However, on closer inspection, we found a hiking path that took us right to the top; what followed was 3 hours of strenuous hiking, although the granite wall was more like continual steps up beside a waterfall. Luckily, we have good heads for height as there were certain patches that felt a little perilous – as for Sandie, she just selected four wheel drive and raced up! It was quite a challenge, but the views from the top were exceptional and it felt like quite an achievement to have reached the top under our own steam. However, the descent certainly did not have the same appeal! So, we bought tickets for the cable car (Sandie had to go in the backpack!) for a much more comfortable trip down, even though we still had an hour’s hike back to our valley. Arriving back exhausted, we spotted some communal barbecue areas by the river and discovered that there was even free wood provided – is there anything that the Swiss haven’t thought about? What could have been better after such a strenuous day than a dip in an ice cold river, a cup of tea by an open fire and an extraordinary sunset that made the mountain look aflame?!

Switzerland has wowed and amazed us so much that our original plan to head further east into Austria and back through Italy was almost immediately dismissed…….THIS was a country that we wanted to explore more and really get stuck into and, with the prospect of a big long break from work, it was a tantalising option. Although this country is small enough to drive from top to bottom in one day, it is full of such incredible mountainous scenery, hiking, biking and gorgeous clear blue lakes, so it seemed fitting to spend all our time getting into the thick of it. So, expect a lot more on Switzerland to come – it’s a roadtrip paradise! And, for those of you still wondering about Europe’s largest waterfall, I have ascertained that it is not assessed on the height of the vertical drop (relatively small at 23m), but on the enormous volume of water that passes through each second and, quite simply, the impressive raw power of it…….it is something to behold!

European roadtrip 2023 Part 2

Sometimes, when planning a roadtrip, it’s good to have a date in the diary when you need to reach a destination – otherwise, the danger of being sidetracked by all the beauty and adventure that our planet has to offer would mean that we would struggle to even get out of Portugal, let alone make it to the Alps! For us, that date was July 19, Stage 17 of the Tour de France and the day that cyclists braved the 160km mountainous route through Meribel to Courcheval. It proved to be a great choice, as the near 11% gradient of the final climb of Col de la Loze meant that the cyclists were at their lowest speed rather than going by in a complete blur on one of their 100kph downhill legs. As a Tour de France ‘newbie’ (and recent convert, having watched Netflix’s highly recommended “Unchained” series!) I am in complete awe of these supreme athletes who are still able to tackle such a monumental mountain having already endured so many hours in the saddle. I’m learning that it is a team sport, but seeing the gruelling effort of these elite sportsmen whilst climbing this monster, it’s clearly also about digging deep into inner reserves and embracing the pain. We were so close to the riders that we could see the sweat (and tears!), hear the laboured breathing and really feel the effort being expended. Wondering if this kind of mountain climb was normal on the Tour, I looked up the hardest climbs……it turns out that Col de la Loze has the #1 spot – no wonder it looked hard!!

Col de la Loze; number one hardest climb of 28.6km @ 6.0%

And just how did we get to the peak of the climb of 2304m? A gentle bike or even hike up maybe?! No, we’re not that masochistic! Of course, it was a very civilised gondola up to the top and then an easy, enjoyable hike down and around to the road the cyclists would be using. The atmosphere was electric with lots of groups dressed up, with music on and beers in hand, giving raucous encouragement to the amateur riders who were struggling with the insane gradient. It was a real carnival feeling; riders’ names were chalked in on the road, supporters signs and flags were on display and even Sandie was sporting a Union Jack scarf! The first sign that the cyclists were on their way was the travelling “Carnival” procession – a huge Yellow Jersey figure atop a car, various quad bikes turned into watermelons, strawberries or even houses and vans handing out sponsors’ merchandise. Lots of the vehicles had loud speakers and promoters at the back, throwing out sweets and other “merch” and generally getting the whole crowd revved up for the main event.

It was extraordinary being so close to these supreme athletes on a brutally steep hill at the end of an already gruelling few hours. We were amazed at just how close we were allowed to be to the riders and ensured that Sandie was on a close lead at all times – we didn’t want to cause a crash like the person taking a selfie had done several days earlier! Being fairly spaced out by this stage of the race, we were able to see all the top riders go past before walking up to the Col just in time to see the Peloton…..

Once at the top, it seemed a shame not to make the most of the mountain restaurant and have a celebratory drink – judging by the number of empty bottles around, plenty of fans had clearly spent the whole afternoon there! By the time we’d walked down to the mid stage gondola, we were lucky to get the last one of the day……that would have been a very long walk back down the hill! And the Tour excitement didn’t even finish once back at Skye, as we were in the same car park as 3 of the teams staying in the nearby Le Mottaret hotel. Watching the mechanics service, clean and prep the bikes and the Chefs create mountains of carbo-heavy food in their food trucks was really interesting; the support required to keep these riders going is phenomenal.

As we wouldn’t have recognised any of the cyclists in these teams, we didn’t know if we would be able to spot them the following morning, however they soon became apparent…..easily picked out as the tall, whippet-thin guys walking a bit stiffly and often covered in bandages! After their brief stay, they were off for another 185km hilly stint on their bikes; Bon Courage guys, the Champs-Élysées is not far off now! Getting our own bikes down from Skye’s rack made us wonder – could we ever get up a monster like Col de la Loze?? Maybe a couple of decades ago, maybe with a lightweight road bike, maybe after lots of training……let’s just leave that in the maybe pile! As for us, we were happy with a flat bike around the Mottaret Lake!!

While the car park had been a great spot for our Tour day, it certainly wasn’t the most beautiful parking place in the area, so we went off in search of one. Heading up to Meribel Altiport, we saw a sign for the Golf Club – well, golfing being a daylight activity, perhaps it would be nice and quiet there if we were allowed to stay? Fortunately, France being very motorhome-friendly, there were no interdit signs, so we were in luck. We had a lovely hike up the course for a picnic and leisurely afternoon by a lake and, having not spent a summer in the Alps before, I couldn’t stop marvelling at swimming along while looking up at a chairlift.

We’d stumbled upon such a perfect spot, so decided to stay put the next day and walk the golf course, as it was such a perfect setting. Being on the side of the mountain, it was steep to say the least – no wonder so many golfers had chosen the buggy option! Taking a well-earned rest for breakfast between the front and back nine, we heard the sounds of gunshots……turns out that our nice flat area was the Biathlon shooting site! Two French girls had put a torturous contraption on the roof of their car to replicate the exhausting Langlauf arm movement before shooting on the range. Judging by their almost perfect shot record, these girls were clearly in the training zone for the next Olympics! Refreshed, we continued our walk and, finding a few stray balls along the way, we were able to borrow a couple of putters and have a little fun on the putting green. Sadly, Skye’s garage doesn’t have room for our golf clubs, but now that we’ve discovered golf course parking it would be a shame not to have a few onboard. Mr Skye is in charge of the garage, doing an excellent job of packing away all our toys like the canoe, BBQ and paddleboard, but I think I might just sneak a few into his Man Cave when he’s not looking once home!! 🤣 🤣

Not only were we spoilt by stunning views of the Alps, but we were also treated to a few small aircraft flying in and out of this tiny Altiport. Judging by the slope of the runway, these small machines must gain speed very rapidly – although it must be a very strange feeling once airborne, to see the ground falling away so quickly. Maybe one day we’ll come here by air?!

Driving down the mountain made us think once again about what the Tour cyclists put themselves through – even using engine braking, our brakes must be roasting by the bottom…….and these guys are flying down these inclines at an insane speed. So much respect 😅

Once on the valley floor, we drove to Lac d’Annecy for a swim; it’s good to have a mission on a roadtrip and one of ours is to swim in as many Alpine Lakes as possible – it’s proving to be the perfect quest! As for our final stop, it was a small lake (of course!) half an hour from Geneva airport which is becoming our ideal airport pickup/dropoff spot and was, in fact, the point at which this blog actually started. Yes, off to work again for another trip to Delhi – but only away for 2.5 days before embarking on European roadtrip Part 3……what an unusual adventure!

After making it clear that Skye’s interior meant that anyone joining us would have to camp, I should have guessed that would make it far too tempting for my son who has spent time camping in Canada, Spain and the UK over the past year. “Camping lad” arrived straight from an interview at Heathrow, so can be excused the footwear option for our first night on the beach where we had the inevitable BBQ and sent some positive vibes out to hope that his interview performance would be enough to ensure a job offer…..so hard for today’s graduates. However, what better way to try and put any thought of ‘real life’ aside than by taking to the unexplored beauty of Northern Portugal? And, as for the outcome of the interview? All will be revealed…..

First stop: Esposende (‘ish-po-shenda”…..I’ve spent a bit of time here and still can’t pronounce it!). This little town has it all – an estuary for kite-surfing (one afternoon’s strenuous activity), a gorgeous cycle track, hiking with windmills, roman ruins and, of course, endless beaches lined by well-maintained boardwalks.

We would have stayed there longer, but the town’s one downside is the sea fog that occasionally rolls in for the entire day. But the beauty of the campervan is that you can chase the sun, so we drove inland to Barcelos and were rewarded by a glorious afternoon on the “beach” in the river and even found our very own ‘spa’. This old Roman settlement is most notable for it’s brightly-painted clay cockerel – whose crowing, according to legend, miraculously intervened to save a man from the gallows. There is more, as the rooster was already roasted and the man was actually already hanged, being saved by a badly made knot – but I suppose it wouldn’t be a folk tale if it didn’t have such stretches of imagination and the Rooster of Barcelos is now a common symbol of Portugal. We explored this old medieval city by bike in the evening light, checking out the roosters and tombs.

Our transport the following day was partly in the form of a paddleboard, although I will admit to doing very little paddling, as Senhor Skye paddled me down the river for a picnic lunch and Camperlad did the honours on the way back – Senhora Skye could get used to this!

The beach we found that evening simply refused to let us go the following day, with its huge sand dunes, surf and flat hard sand that provided a makeshift tennis court (ingeniously improved upon by the guys pinching the windbreak to improvise as a net!). However, we knew that the old town of Viana do Castelo was midst festival week, so we finally tore ourselves away to spend the evening in what is known as one of the most beautiful cities in northern Portugal. Nestled beneath the Santa Luzia monastery and lying beside the sea and on the mouth of the Rio Lima, with narrow cobbled streets and beautiful open squares, this city is a total must. Experiencing it during Fiesta was extra special, as we were entertained by the folk dancers in their traditional costumes, dancing an “interesting” blend of flamenco, Arabian and……what appeared to be Morris dancing!

Festival season in the Iberian peninsula meant that we couldn’t miss a detour to Santiago de Compostela, the goal of all those pilgrims we had observed plodding northwards with large packs and a scallop shell on their backs. Having blogged about this before, I won’t wax lyrical about this unique city (please read this if you’d like to discover more), although it seemed even better second time around. And, yet again, there was a band playing just beside the sacred cathedral and another one in the park – the latter being a popular Eurovision entry and some sort of cross between Little Mix and traditional singing (wailing?!); surprisingly catchy and certainly very popular with the locals. Enroute from one musical experience to the other, we were treated to a superb fireworks display; having a backdrop of this extraordinary Cathedral would always ensure a spectacular show, but this one was replicated in four areas of the city, so was truly memorable.

Driving back south, we spent the day at Rio de Barosa, hiking upstream, basking on rocks, enjoying a shoulder massage under the waterfalls and picnicing beneath the trees…….all the while laughing at the antics of people sliding down smooth rocks into the natural rock pools as if they were at a water park

After our brief foray into Spain, it was back to Portugal, nightstopping by the Rio Minho after a brief scamper around the huge fort of Valença. Camping lad was staggered by two things; the sheer size of this fort and (surprisingly, despite his pretty extensive travelling exploits) by the fact that a simple river was all that divided one country from the next. I suppose that we all take country borders as fact, but it was interesting to see it through his eyes. Of course, there was only one way to begin the following day…….by swimming across to Spain, of course – followed by a huge fry-up whilst mulling over borders and how they come about!

Waterfalls had definitely been on the agenda for this trip, so we indulged for two days; basing ourselves in Montaria, we camped deep in the Forest, hiked along streams leading to series of clear, cool pools and swam in the alluring water. If anyone needs a reason to explore NW Portugal, this place is definitely it; cool, calm, outstanding beauty that has not yet been “found” by the masses. Heaven!

Driving along this river the following day, ending up as far to the northwest of Portugal as possible, we reached a beach that is, even by Portuguese standards, extraordinary. A staggeringly vast sweep of endless sand that rounds the north-west tip of Portugal and heads back around into the Rio Minho. Walking for a couple of miles along this beach, we saw what looked like an ideal camping spot – however, after then seeing several barely clad men, we realised that this would be a spot for “camp lad”, not our camping lad, so made a quick exit! 😱🫢😂

We opted instead for a huge empty beach just further south and, with the place to ourselves, had an enormous driftwood fire after the sun went down on our beach BBQ (and, after Portugal’s terrible wild fires this summer, we made sure that there wasn’t a tree in sight!).

Our final stop was Porto which we’re beginning to know quite well; it’s a city full of history with a charming, lively atmosphere and beautiful buildings, all set upon the backdrop of the stunning Rio Douro. We finished our sightseeing at a restaurant just next to the river where ‘Interview boy’ bought us a port tasting “taster” to say thank you for his 10 days in (well, camping beside!) Skye. As you can see by the size of the glasses, this was hardly a tasting session – clearly Port is in plentiful supply in……Porto!!

Our roadtrip has been amazing in every way; incredible beaches, waterfalls, fiestas, cities and rivers – but also special time with the two favourite men in my life. In addition, it had the desired effect of putting the interview out of our minds for the duration. However, what was the outcome? If you could please forgive me for a moment whilst I indulge in some maternal pride ☺️

I’m thrilled to report a positive outcome!

👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

It’s so wonderful to know that all his rigorous studying of Aerospace Engineering at University, along with hard work in interview preparation has all paid off and he has landed the Graduate scheme of his dreams with…….Virgin Atlantic, my employer for the past 3 decades! One day soon, I am very much looking forward to seeing this special engineer on my Airbus Flight Deck, but in the meantime, I’m very happy to continue to share an occasional chance encounter when we’re both at The Virgin HQ.

Welcome to the Virgin family, George!!

The plan was hatched on the banks of the Rio Minho – has there ever been a more beautiful setting to scheme and plan the bare bones of our route around Northern Portugal?! We had found a quiet setting under trees, just next door to a cute bar on a spur of land with a swing seat, on the fast flowing river separating Portugal from Spain. In fact, starting the day off with a swim is always good, so the first plan hatched was to swim across to Spain the following morning (with one of us on the SUP to keep us both safe!); however, even these intrepid adventurers had to concede that the current was too strong so we opted for the calm lagoon instead.

Any readers who are not up-to-date with who “we” are, will have to read this to discover more about my Intrepid Adventuring Soulmate – let’s just call him Mr Intrepid for now! As for our mode of transport? After selling Gloria and having a fabulous experience in Bruce, we had taken the big step to buy our very own motorhome and at last, after hunting high and low for the configuration and mileage we were after, we had found the perfect one. Smaller than Gloria, she is set up for just two happy campers (visitors be warned – you will be in tents!) and is perfect for our needs. But what to call her? Every motorhome needs a name and hers came to me in a moment of clarity on the beach whilst witnessing yet another glorious sunset; I love the sea, sand, sunset, sky……wait, sky – what about Skye?? With my family connections to the island in Scotland and my vocation in the sky, it just felt right; Mr Interpid, not being in the habit of naming vehicles, was just happy that I was happy, so Skye came into being and she was promptly christened with a bottle of bubbly 🍾🥂(drunk by us, not smashed over her bonnet!).

Our journey had started from Porto airport and, on our way up to the river we had enjoyed a couple of great beach nightstops (well, it’s Portugal, so unfailingly great goes without saying – I have yet to come across a bad one!) and a detour to the monastery of Santa Luzia; one of the joys of life on the road, is that you can detour whenever a sight takes your fancy. The views from here were magnificent…..

So, back to the plan, what did we hatch? We decided not to stay fairly local and spend the majority of our time getting to know Parque National Pineda-Gerês. We also stumbled upon a method for planning that worked so well that it will inevitably become the blueprint for our future adventures; mark all the viewpoints/waterfalls/castles/sights on google maps, find a central point in a cluster of them and stay there for a couple of nights – that was it, planning complete in under 30 minutes! First stop, via the huge fortress of Valenca, was Lindoso, where we found an ideal a camping spot just below the medieval castle.

Mr Intrepid had done the (almost!) impossible and brought our two bikes up from Loulé up by train, so it was time to make all his efforts worthwhile and put them to good use. Our big ride the following day took in the huge reservoir with almost no water (drought conditions of this area are upsettingly extreme), a couple of waterfalls, the granaries of Soajo (we had originally thought they were some sort of weird tombs, so were relieved to find out their true purpose) and complete off-road detour to a magical sliver of river with inviting pools divided by cascading water. No swimsuits…..no problem, as it had been a 45’ thorny, rocky, tree-strewn, bike-carrying path to get there, surely no one else would be mad enough to attempt it? Sometimes in life, things are worth fighting for and this swim, the best moment in our day, was certainly one of those!

The equally arduous uphill route back to the road resulted in Mr Intrepid suffering a slow puncture but,in his typical no-nonsense manner, he simply stopped to pump his tyre up every now and then, giving me the perfect excuse to grab a breather. We were definitely happy to get back to the castle (castles are generally built on high ground……it was a long uphill slog back to Skye and her very welcome onboard shower. Clean and recovered, it was time for some food – have barbecued sardines ever tasted so good?!

The next day involved plenty of hiking and two more swims in different waterfalls (swimsuits on this time!) before arriving at our next stop on the Cávado River just below Gêres. It is called a river, but for all intents and purposes, it looks like a lake with watersports and a marina – in fact, that is where we found we were able to park up for a couple of nights, with a perfect view to enjoy both by night and at first light……

What better way to explore this stunning piece of water than on our Stand-Up Paddleboard, taking it in turn to paddle (or “sky an oar”….how appropriate!). The silence, broken only by the splash of the paddle, the birdsong, the sun on our backs and the beauty of the surrounding pine forests and clear water made for a truly magical experience. Navigating up to the head of the small river that feeds this lake, we beached the board and made our way up a series of rocks to swim and bask in the sun like lazy seals. Having not brought much lunch with us, Mr Intrepid went off hunting; one of our goals of the trip was to find wild juicy oranges (and lemons 🍋 for the G&Ts later!) and he came back with an armful – the simple pleasures in life are sometimes the best 🍊 😊

Our drive to Guimarães encompassed yet another waterfall; we thought we had seen them all, but it seems as though we saved the best one for last! This was also one that I had hiked to the previous year, so it was very special to share it with my Fellow Adventurer. Guimarães was just a taster this time, as we need to spend a good couple of days here in “the birthplace of Portugal”sometime, with its well-preserved medieval castle, palace, monastery amidst a maze of cobbled streets.

Our destination that night was Amarante set on the banks of the Rio Tâmega. For the sake of brevity, I’ll let the pictures do the talking; the most memorable moments were swimming just downstream of the weir and experiencing the local pastry offering!

And so, finally, we were back in Porto where we spent a wonderful day biking around Portugal’s enchanting second city.

And so to the end of Skye’s maiden voyage and what a trip it has been, encompassing all manner of wild swim spots, fresh air and exercise, city and nature at is best. Above all, Skye has proved to be the perfect purchase for the pair of us; she is the ideal size, incredibly comfortable, carries all our various sports equipment without complaint, is more nimble than her predecessor (sorry Gloria!) and gives us the belief that our dream of so many more exciting roadtrips ahead will become a reality. Our gratitude for finding you, Skye, is immense 🙏