Pilgrimage to Sao Barnabe

So I spotted this little dot on the map of a town named Sao Barnabe – Saint Barnaby – so I just had to go! The wind was looking a bit light for a good session and I had no lessons on the horizon, so after a couple of drinks at my favourite pub/free wifi spot, I journeyed up the mountains for a first stop in the fresh air of Monchique.

Starting at dawn, I took a short hike to a local peak before the day became to hot. It was easy going, except the trail markers were a bit haphazard, to say the least. Their symbol in a red and white stripe, painted on what ever surface they feel suitable. If there isn’t a convenient street light or bare rock available at an intersection, you just have to guess and continue on until another marking confirms your intuition.

In this manner, I made a lovely loop track to the peak and back. The ‘picota’ was a barren rock with a scaffold lookout tower on top. Climbing this provided an awe-inspiring view of the surrounds. The rest of the land is very clefted with steep canyons, but none of the hill tops are near as high as this, offering a top-of-the-world view!



I also discovered some odd little bugs on this scaffold. At first I thought they were welding beads, as they were clustered in the crevices and have shiny metallic wings. But some started shifting as the day warmed up and I discovered they are a cousin of the ladybug. Quite curious.



Back in the township of Monchique I relaxed for a while under some strongly scented blossoming trees with a swarm of intoxicated bees harvesting the nectar. What a lovely experience – one I hope never to forget.

After making use of a bit of free WiFi, I picked up some snacks for the road. One of these was very heavy – turned out to be basically a ball of figs compressed and glued together with a sugar. This little treat was so filling, it lasted me a full 24 hours! (Unlike the delicious almond macaroon and custard-filled doughnut that disappeared in the blink of an eye.)

One other interesting feature I started to notice everywhere – a lot of trees had their bark cleanly stripped on the main trunks, with a single-digit number painted on each. I asked the girl at the local tourist i-site, as she spoke excellent English. She explained they were collecting to make cork in a local factory. Bizarre – I never knew cork was processed from the bark of oak trees!? And that you could strip this without killing the tree. She also included that the numbers indicated the year of the last harvest, as the bark grows back slowly, so that they use a 9- or 10- year cycle.



Anyway, I set off in search of the town of my namesake with plenty of hours of daylight. But after turning off the highway at the indicated town’s exit, I found only dirt road. What the hell, I thought – it either goes through, or not, in which case I’d need to turn around. Nothing lost, nothing gained.

Well the track continued, split off, rejoined (I think), past single houses and small villages, with lots of names, all of which were not on my large-scale map. I basically used the sun to define my compass direction in choosing when presented with a fork in the road.

And then I started seeing very tidy, clean new signs for a couple of places. This was eventually explained by one sign the read “Rally de Portugal”. Now, I love watching rally racing on TV and would loved to have done that in an alternate life. But it always looks like they are just racing around dusty dirt roads. To actually drive one of their courses, I am even more impressed with their skills, and the mechanics of the cars they drive. My little van was feeling every little judder of the stripped and scar surface of the cutting these tracks took through bare bedrock and loose chunks of remnant debris. I was probably averaging 20kph where they veritably fly around these courses.



But eventually I found one name that was on my map. And it was a little middle of nowhere spot with two decrepit buildings. Why this made it on the map I don’t know. Or maybe is was an adjunct to the actual town with its proper road, that I came to believe was further north. This belief was fostered when I finally hit Santa Clara de Novo, a sizeable village with tar seal roads going in three directions.

I came in from the west, and could have gone north (to the roads on my map) or west (continuing my current plan). Well I chose to go west, but tar seal soon ran out again. But after a while I realized I was passing through the most picturesque valley of dairy fields, with the cow’s bells clanging somewhere in a hidden valley fold.
Being 6 in the afternoon, I could have pushed on through the remaining few hours of daylight. But why? I simply pulled over (though there weren’t any signs of human life passing this way very often) and setup camp for the evening, reading my book and just enjoying the day.



So glad I did; the next day took me in short order to normal tar seal roads and in short order I’d found signs to my intended destination. Though I first had to navigate a narrow, windy ridgetop populated with more massive wind turbines – a very impressive sight to pass right underneath.

Eventually we started to drop down to the narrow valley floor. As this was shown on my map as a dead-end, I wondered if I’d have to climb all the way back out again, but upon arrival I discovered two separate tar-sealed roads leading in alternate directions – they just hadn’t been included on my big map.

I’d arrived around 8 or so in the morning, but barely a soul was stirring and there was a sign of even a café in this little hamlet. Why it had made it onto my map, I’ll never understand, unless just to draw me out there. Yet they are very proud of their patron saint, hosting with flag on a poll and the crest on a government vehicle.

But in short order I chose to head back to civilization. But a worthwhile and memorable trip into the heartland of Portugal, to be sure. The wind had blown all that night, and was quite chill with a damp overcast. Yet when I made it out to the coast, it was calm and clear blue skies. But come the afternoon heat, the calm did not last and an epic 25 knot gusty wind blew up providing yet another awesome session on the local lagoon – this time with just me and 4 new friends. Where and when do the locals ride?