PEDALLING PERFECTION
A languid cycle trip along the pretty Algarve is pure pleasure
THIS is the puncture repair kit,’ Fred explains. He’s already shown me the GPS, a route map, and his disappointment in my amateurish cycling kit — holiday shorts and T-shirt. ‘Oh no! I think I’ll just call you if I have a puncture!’ I say.
He waves me off on my cycling tour from Loule, a small town on the Algarve, to Tavira, and finally Olhao.
I start the 24-mile route briskly, until I reach Sao Bras de Alportel, which has cream cobbles and blindingly white lowrise houses, some of which are elaborately tiled. I wonder what my hurry is as I sit in a cafe on the sunny square.
Like anyone used to city cycling, where drivers hate you, pedestrians hate you, and even other cyclists aren’t that keen, you’re so busy trying to stay alive it’s easy to forget the simple pleasures of cycling.
Now I remember. Huffing and puffing up a hill, then freewheeling down the other side; it reminds us of childhood. As Michael Palin said: ‘One of the greatest days of my life was when I learnt to ride a bicycle.’
The afternoon passes in a gently paced tour of benign hills, daisy meadows, olive groves, and the delicious scent of orange blossom and jasmine. Heaven.
I arrive to no fanfare at all in Tavira, and call the one I love to report my achievement.
The town is a delight. It’s a former tuna fishing hub (catch in 1881: 43,000, catch in 1972: 1) with intriguing narrow lanes lined with houses opening on to the street, some with quirky hand- shaped door knockers, and an open riverside main square Praca da Republica.
It’s all cobbled in the same cream stone, worn to a polished gleam and neat enough to look like someone has mosaiced every street. It makes the centre feel pedestrianised (it’s not), and the pace is s-l-o-w.
There are nearly 40 churches to visit but more than sightseeing, this is a place for dawdling — on both sides of the gentle River Gilao there are ice cream stops, cafes with pastel de nata (custard tarts), and restaurants serving tapas and fresh fish with a €2 (£1.80) glass of rosé.
AND it would be a wrench to leave, so it’s lucky the next day I’m on a round trip of 40 miles. In bright sunshine, it’s sometimes hard to see the GPS screen, but a wrong turn leads me to the tiny, charming, village of Santa Rita. Definitely worth a few extra pedals.
I pass tethered horses lazily swishing flies away with their tails, cows, and goats with bells round their necks, and noisy dogs on patrol, not even panting in the heat.
Castro Marim is enticing too, overseen by the ruins of a hilltop medieval castle, once home to the Knights Templar.
I arrive in Vila Real de Santo Antonio, a city founded by the Marquis of Pombal in 1774 and built in just two years as a tuna fishing centre, before heading straight for the Ecovia coastal route that covers 140 miles.
I stare at the high-rise hotels, Guinness pubs and Cristiano Ronaldo souvenirs, before taking peaceful sandy lanes.
Unfortunately, I get fed up with GPS and follow street signs instead, which lead me on to main roads for the last few miles back to Tavira. My final leg is 20 miles of coastal sandy paths to Olhao. Cyclists (mostly men, mostly in full L’Etape gear) nod as they flash past in villages such as Fuzeta with markets and open-air cafes grilling fresh fish. I don’t want this to end, and wonder if I could handle another 20 miles. In fact, this four-night trip balances enough cycling with enough time to relax and explore your base. I also feel immediately attached to Olhao. I’m staying in a swish five- star hotel — large, informal, if a little impersonal — which sits portside. It’s near the huge, red-brick fish market, family- run restaurants, and pretty backstreets. Lazing by the pool, I see the sun has tanned the tops of my hands and thighs, and the back of my calves. A cycling tan.
I end with a ferry to the beach; a collection of sandbars close to the mainland with no cars, simple cottages, gorgeous beach cafes, a lighthouse, and miles of long, clean, empty beaches, reached by wooden pathways.
Albert Einstein famously said he came up with his theory of relativity while riding a bike. Sadly my only thought while pedalling is how much fun it is.