Today I re-joined the Autovia de Castilla and headed towards the Portuguese border .Such a dream, driving on this Spanish motorway.The Spanish have spent vast sums in recent years improving their rail and road network(probably why their economy is now bust)and it is now supposed to be one of the best networks in Europe.Some Spanish motorways have a toll(the ones designated "AP"),but not this one, which is designated an "A"(although confusingly it is signposted by its Euro-route designation the E80)….But extraordinarily there is barely any traffic. Keeping at a steady 105km/h I can usually only see one other vehicle anywhere on the road, a mile or so ahead. If it’s a car, I’ll never see it again because it will pull on ahead of me .If it’s a lorry I’ll slowly overhaul it and overtake in about 5 miles. All I need to do is basically concentrate on enjoying the scenery.
I stopped for coffee at the Spanish border fortress of Cuidad Rodrigo,the name familiar to students of Wellington’s campaigns.A pretty town,basically a smaller version of Salamanca,with the same Baroque architecture,and same golden yellow stone.The medieval walls still exist but the outer ring of Napoleonic era defences ,which were formidable in their time ,are now not too apparent.
Crossing into Portugal,I was not sure where to head to ; for couple of days I had been thinking about going to the border city of Guarda ,but at the last minute I followed a tip from the English guy at last night’s campsite, whose electrical expertise I had sought,and I turned immediately north on crossing the Portuguese border, and headed for Cuidad Rodrigo’s opposing border citadel of Almeida. This is really in the sticks.This remote Portuguese border region is probably the equivalent of UK’s Powys, with many ruined border castles, lots of sheep farms, and very few tourists. Almeida is a complete contrast to Cuidad Rodrigo.The walls are vast, a massive Napoleonic era star fortress, but inside is a sleepy little village. The overnight campervan spot is a little area of hardstanding provided by the municipality, deep down between the main wall and the Ravelin.
I did have some difficulty finding this little site as it was hidden from the road.My Dutch ASCI guidebook gave satnav oordinates that brought me to one small carpark at the entrance to one of the gates but it didn't match the picture in their guidebook.I set off to walk round the walls and I actually went nearly the complete circuit before I spotted what I was looking for,just outside another of the gates,and then went back to collect the van.
I join 3 French campervans;I am trying not to mention the Peninsular War !!
I stopped for coffee at the Spanish border fortress of Cuidad Rodrigo,the name familiar to students of Wellington’s campaigns.A pretty town,basically a smaller version of Salamanca,with the same Baroque architecture,and same golden yellow stone.The medieval walls still exist but the outer ring of Napoleonic era defences ,which were formidable in their time ,are now not too apparent.
Crossing into Portugal,I was not sure where to head to ; for couple of days I had been thinking about going to the border city of Guarda ,but at the last minute I followed a tip from the English guy at last night’s campsite, whose electrical expertise I had sought,and I turned immediately north on crossing the Portuguese border, and headed for Cuidad Rodrigo’s opposing border citadel of Almeida. This is really in the sticks.This remote Portuguese border region is probably the equivalent of UK’s Powys, with many ruined border castles, lots of sheep farms, and very few tourists. Almeida is a complete contrast to Cuidad Rodrigo.The walls are vast, a massive Napoleonic era star fortress, but inside is a sleepy little village. The overnight campervan spot is a little area of hardstanding provided by the municipality, deep down between the main wall and the Ravelin.
I did have some difficulty finding this little site as it was hidden from the road.My Dutch ASCI guidebook gave satnav oordinates that brought me to one small carpark at the entrance to one of the gates but it didn't match the picture in their guidebook.I set off to walk round the walls and I actually went nearly the complete circuit before I spotted what I was looking for,just outside another of the gates,and then went back to collect the van.
I join 3 French campervans;I am trying not to mention the Peninsular War !!
 Cuidad Rodrigo main square |  Almeira main square |
One of the four gates into the citadel of Almeira
 Between the main wall and the Ravelin...don't mention the Peninsular war !! |  Jeropiga...made by mixing sweet partially fermented grape juice with Aguadente(fire water) |
The man in charge of the little , cunningly subterranean, camping toilet block,(by which I mean it doesn’t disturb the historic site) pops up from time to time. On one of his incarnations he directs the French campervans to move to a different alignment, seemingly not approving of the way they had established themselves.He returns again after a little while to secretively offer me a gift of his home made liquor,a bottle of the Portuguese country liquor Jeropiga.This was wrapped up in newspaper and he made it very clear he didn’t want the French people to see the gift.He speaks no English,but reasonable French,in common with many Portuguese people of his age(all the younger generation learn English)which is a little odd considering his apparent disapproval of the French people.
I assumed he must just have a soft spot for Portugal's “oldest Ally “ .Later I began to wonder: In pidgeon French, I understood that as a special favour he was returning to open a shower in the toilet block for me at 6pm.This turned out to be the shower in his little caretaker's office, and I had to undress in front of him as he showed me how it worked, and which pegs to hang my clothes on…..Ok I thought, I have been born and bred in rugby club showers so this posed no issue. However ,I did begin to wonder a bit when I came out of the shower to find him stripped to his boxers……but perhaps to be fair to him I think this is his end of shift shower for which the water had been heated specially and he’s doing me a favour by sharing it with me(?).He’s offered me another one at 8 am when he starts his shift…I think I’ll decline politely…….
That evening I went out ,not to the sleepy bar in the village square, but one that seemed rather more lively ,outside the gate which ASCI had mistakenly directed me to earlier. Here I discovered what I would regard as absolutely typical Portuguese country cooking, with huge portions of beautifully grilled steak and pork cutlets, smothered in olive oil and lemon juice, accompanied by chips, rice and mixed vegetables, and half a litre of house red.
I assumed he must just have a soft spot for Portugal's “oldest Ally “ .Later I began to wonder: In pidgeon French, I understood that as a special favour he was returning to open a shower in the toilet block for me at 6pm.This turned out to be the shower in his little caretaker's office, and I had to undress in front of him as he showed me how it worked, and which pegs to hang my clothes on…..Ok I thought, I have been born and bred in rugby club showers so this posed no issue. However ,I did begin to wonder a bit when I came out of the shower to find him stripped to his boxers……but perhaps to be fair to him I think this is his end of shift shower for which the water had been heated specially and he’s doing me a favour by sharing it with me(?).He’s offered me another one at 8 am when he starts his shift…I think I’ll decline politely…….
That evening I went out ,not to the sleepy bar in the village square, but one that seemed rather more lively ,outside the gate which ASCI had mistakenly directed me to earlier. Here I discovered what I would regard as absolutely typical Portuguese country cooking, with huge portions of beautifully grilled steak and pork cutlets, smothered in olive oil and lemon juice, accompanied by chips, rice and mixed vegetables, and half a litre of house red.
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