APAPS 23.12: Let There Be Light

 

The regular Reader of these pages will have noticed, I am sure, a common theme running through the opening lines of Yves´ Blogs which is that , when he wakes up early, it is dark and then he goes in search of the sunrise. Not that he is seeking enlightenment; far from that. He needs light to make his camera work. So, before we go on to this week´s blog, I will play you an overture and while it is playing (about 7 minutes) you can pass the time looking appreciatively at his latest gallery of early morning studies.

Catching the sun

Over now to Yves; a modest man, he does not like to boast

The day started because it really had to; it did not really want to as the weather was in a strange mood: reasonably warm but overcast and unclear which way it would go…

Still, at silly o’clock this Blogger was on the bridge in Silves in the hope of catching the rising sun gently bending its beams around the shoulders of the storks and other birds living in their apartment block by the large hotel. Time ticked away as traffic grew and the good denizens of Silves set off to their places of employment to finish their night’s slumber… Still no sign of the sun peeping over the hill to illuminate the birds. The Castle was showing off its ‘red grès’ walls in full glory against the azure sky; the cathedral was bathed in a glorious glow that picked out its maroon details in a delightful fashion. Near the Ponte Romana, some ducks and seagulls offered to stand in for the storks but they did not have quite the same appeal: mottled grey on grey pavements and grey walls against a greyish white bridge simply did not cut it.

There was no option but pack away the camera and head for the car-park to join the throng, a small throng, a posse, a small group of Walkers for the morning’s adventures.

The Leaider was pacing anxiously at the spot where he had advised the troop to meet. Why, one trooper actually moved her car from a perfectly good parking space to be nearer the Cap’n. Soon the crew had gathered, all six of them, and the Starters’ picture was taken. 

Ritual satisfied, the Leader set off towards the river, followed obediently by the faithful; as he reached the edge of the high bank, he took a picture of something interesting, turned around and faced the group who had gathered behind him. Who was more surprised: him or they? There had been mutterings of giving him a gentle shove into the water to add some real action-pictures to the blog but the Blogger/Snapper can only be in one place at a time and the Leader remained dry, up on the bank. There will be a collection at some point in the future to subsidise someone to attend the Open University Course on ‘quantum blogging’ –the Leader has been given fair warning!

Various signs enroute

Across the Roman Bridge past the sign that states that no pedestrians are allowed and onto the track; if there ever was ONE characteristic feature of the WAGS troop in its many guises and varying numbers, it must be the ever-present banter at a fair volume -10+ but not quite a Marshall 11.

At the back, the Leader and the Blogger had more than enough material to chew on with the Rugby World Cup and politics but what kept Les Girls babbling so excitedly? Do they even remember?

Needless to say, as we approached the gates of the Adega, someone simply had to give the bell-pull a gentle tug; the ring was so soft that people inside failed to hear it; either that or they had heard the tsunami of banter coming their way and they had battened down the hatches? Who knows?

Spot the bell ringer

(In fact somebody did eventually open the big door but by then the guilty party had nipped round the corner.)

With breakfast ordered for 10.00 o’clock a.m. in the morning, the Leader was taking no risks: he kept a wary eye on his time-piece; so far and no further lest we are late back! That simply would not do, would it? Not in a new venue for our famished troop!

Accordingly, as we reached the ‘Stairway to Heaven’, the Leader stopped and intimated in his mild but persuasive tones that we should turn back now. Lo! He was practically talking to himself: one fit young lady was well on her way to Heaven, one slightly less young lady was busy making friends with a couple of stray(?) dogs, the Blogger/Snapper was encouraging them upwards while another lady was contemplating the state of a re-discovered Nora by the side of the track. 

The re-discovered Nora

It had been there for years and years but brambles bushes had kept it hidden from view.

Going Up

Hazel on her way to the top

Hazel reported: "Here is the video I took.  Just to remind you, I walked up 176 steps plus or minus n down totalling 352 steps. Going up was not difficult as I took my time and stop when necessary. Coming down was easy with caution as the steps was narrow toward the last sections. "

She took this photo of the ruin at the top and this video of the view.

At that juncture, a swarm of small but hungry mosquitoes took a very keen interest in us: that was the cue for a couple of ladies to take their leave. Naturally, they had to be escorted lest some marauding javali or cyclists put them at some peril or other: the Snapper volunteered for that duty.

The splinter-group –not the sprinter-group, as some of us might say it- must have grown seven-league boots: in no time at all, we had left the Leader and the Heaven-seeking girlies so far behind that they were out of vocal reach.

Be that as it may, Senhor Rod made an unexpected appearance round a bend in the track: he had been ordered to walk by his doctor and walk he did, manfully, too! Greetings and wishes were exchanged and he pressed on towards the Leader’s party. 

Rod appeared, immaculately attired as usual

The break-away group raced on towards N´anda´s Café, arguing as we went as to what a sun-shade should be called: a parasol? An awning? An umbrella? The irony of it all was that the argument was between non-native Engrish speakers!

It was tempting to get back to the cars and refresh soul and body before breakfast but alas, some prize ejeet had allowed their dog to make a very sizeable offering near the Blogger’s car; the ensuing clean-up took much longer than thought initially: it WAS a sizeable present! Having reassured the worried crew at the Café, the Blogger dashed through groups of tourists, past their ‘guides’, dodged some ‘Citadel’ sellers, forced a couple of motorists to slam their brakes on at a pedestrian crossing, waved apologetically at a kid who fell off her scooter –no helmet! as she tried to swerve past the now stationary cars and hid among the Happy Eaters inside the Café, Phew! The angry mob outside, brandishing large wheel-spanners and colourful brollies failed to spot him and dispersed; the entrance to Lidl car-park was almost free again…

All in all, what started as a very gentle amble along the Arade in full flow had turned into another mildly exciting outing for our bunch of geriatrics!

Thank you for being there; it was fun!

Be good, until next week?

(there was one incident which the Blogger could not possibly known about, because he and his Splinter Group were already nearly home, and that was when the Laggards (Hazel, Maria and Rod) came back past the big gates of the Adega Convento do Paraiso, one of the gates was open for some workmen to get in. The Laggards were permitted to look inside the property and they saw, in a nearby ornamental swimming pool a crocodile, I kid you not, a crocodile !

 A rival to the Silves Python - the Arade Croc !

The Track and the Statistics

The Breakfast

N´anda´s, a new venue, where Paul joined us. Plenty to eat; most people seemed satisfied.

"Now where did I put my camera?"

"All´s well that ends well."

And a gentle piece of closing music

APAPS 23.11: Tomayto Or Tomahto; That Is The Question

 A break with a long tradition this week, the Full English Breakfast being abandoned in favour of an experimental continental-type repast. "Feedback", if you will excuse the expression, will be welcome. The early morning light on the beach gave our photographic team ample opportunity to test their art skills. I received lots of pictures to choose from; 68 all told. Tough job to whittle them down for the Blog. Now, over to Yves for his stimulating description of events.

He writes:-

The day dawned in a contrary fashion, as was its wont that morning…

Now, the Blogger had left the warmth of his nest in good time to be at the beach for daybreak, snap the sunrise over the distant shoreline and the water before meeting up with the Walkers at Café Paradis… That was the plan but, as the sands of time clogged his sandals on that lonely beach, the sun was having a lie-in. Nothing for it but accept defeat and return to the Café .......

.....where the throng was getting stronger: some still sheltering from the not-so-cold cold air in their car, others joyfully beavering at various tasks involving tripods, cameras, little action and the threat of scratching the Blogger’s pride and joy… His car, it must be emphasised, lest some misinterpretation should slip in!

Final score:   Mercedes 1 - Honda 3.

The Leader had clearly arranged for the sun to appear at the correct time as he marshalled the troop into a near-disciplined gaggle of beaming young faces. 

The Starters: Dennis, JohnH, Samantha, Dorothy, Tanja, Hazel, Brian, Daniela, Julia, Fabrizio, Yves, Maria, Myriam.

These youngsters, fit, happy and bursting with energy DO have the effect on some of us to underscore how less fit and certainly not bursting with energy we are slowly becoming… Happy, still! But that is largely down to Cask Strength Single Malts.

And so we departed in the opposite direction from the usual: had the Leader lost his byword sense of direction? Was he distracted by sirens’ songs? No: he simply fancied a change.

The foray through the brush bushes with a still very low sun behind us presented wonderful opportunities for back-lit happy-mood pictures of golden hair, bright eyes and smiles to keep ad-agencies wanting more: not so! The Leader maintained a determined and steady pace while the lower ranks did their best to move in front of each other in random fashion with the larger persons in front of the smaller ones, etc. Decidedly, the Fates were not letting the Blogger do his worst; next week, perhaps?

Be that as it may, when we reached the raised road skirting the beach, all was revealed: the Leader had taken the troop that way instead if this way in order to avoid the unseemly scramble under the wooden walkway: clever man! The road was crossed in a very dignified fashion but not before the girls spotted some pretty flowers, delicate and white, those were, and with seed sacs bursting onto the sand; indeed, many seeds were collected in the hope of recreating that sandy look in back gardens and patios. We might report on that venture’s outcome next year: bi-focals on and watch this space!

The beach awaited us: a glorious expanse of fine sand with only few fellow-walkers enjoying their constitutionals with their dogs and girl-friends, or boy-friends, or unspecified friends; as none were displaying badges with their preferred pronouns, conjecture is wide open. The only certainty is that only the dogs were chasing after tossed tennis balls, we think.

The ebbing tide drew strange patterns in the sand

Sand trees

There we also saw for ourselves how thoughtless –perhaps accidental- actions can affect our environment: a young sea-gull was trailing some discarded fishing net tangled around its neck. 

It would not allow us to approach and possibly free it from that horrible plastic but it was clearly stressed by it all. Should that netting catch on drift wood or the walkway planking, the poor bird will surely die…There was no option but let ‘nature’ take its course and we marched on our own course. 

Brian, Julia, Fabrizio, Samantha

We soon came across a stream running across the sands, tempting some to splash water, others to paddle like children and this Blogger to cross manfully, to the far side and then back! He should have heeded the instruction that we were not going across but walk up away from the sands, silly man! Still, there was the perfect opportunity to put Decathlon’s best Gore-Tex to the test: would water get through? No! Water did not get through the material, splendid stuff! It got over the top of the boots, however. The Leader was tactful enough not to laugh out but he could barely restrain a smirking smile. Memo to self: either listen to instructions or buy higher boots still!

Then to the Board Walk and the Bird Sanctuary, to see if we could spot any.

"Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry"

Maria does her trig point celebration although there was no trig point nearby.

The Bird Look-Out

(Apparently, this is a picture of Dennis getting a slap for helping some but not all the  ladies across the drain. He has been approached for a comment but has not responded. Ed.)

The western end of the lagoon did have some water and a curlew was spotted

In any event, the Leader had other things on his mind: time and breakfast! In spite of his best efforts to keep a pace consistent with a timely arrival at the Café-restaurant, some in the party were rushing at a speed belying their age and the shortness of their legs; was it a form of contrition for delaying the troop on a previous expedition? [See previous blogs] They did not say. As he observed the sun’s arching progress across the morning sky, the Leader felt that there was no option but throw in a short ‘extra-loop’. And this was done.

The extra-loop took us past this extensive ruin

The Track and, courtesy of Dennis, the Statistics

At the Café-Restaurante, a different style of breakfast from our usual English style awaited the hungry troop: bacon had matured into jambon, toast became croissants, friendly fried eggs were soon brouillés and looked very inviting while the Sagres beer gave way gracefully to orange juise and café au lait… 

Brian truly hit the jackpot when he ordered a cappuccino.

For many, the pièce de résistance was an unassuming bowl of tomates cerises served with chopped onion and garlic, sprinkled with herbs and in a very tasty dressing of olive oil: the essence of simplicité but ever so pleasant! 

More please.

What was the secret ingredient in the dressing? Perhaps the Leader will mull over repeating the experience at some point?

He´s not talking about that slap, is he?

A very satisfying morning, for sure! Thank you to all for making it enjoyable!

Until next time, be good!

Thanks to Yves for his report -he has now been confirmed as a Blogger, by the way, and to all who contributed photos. Commiserations to Dot and Dennis who had to miss  out on the cherry tomatoes because of  pending medicals, and to Paul who missed the meal and the banter because of a chipped tooth. Dot packed him a "carry--out" which kindness he acknowledged in WhatsApp. Since it was he who introduced this idea of the Full English Breakfast in the first place, one wonders what he makes of the break in tradition. 

At the end of the meal, Myriam tried to get through to Rod in hospital in Lisbon after his back operation, to wish him well from all of us, but she could not make contact; apparently he was engaged in having a shower. We will keep the shower curtain closed.

And for those who wondered about the slogan "In Tartiflette We Trust," tartiflette is a dish from the Savoie in the French Alps and from the Aosta Valley in northwest Italy. It is made with potatoes, reblochon cheese, lardons  and onions. A splash of white wine can be added too. If you replace the potatoes with crozets (a small, square -shaped pasta), you get Croziflette.

For the closing music, I had thought of "American Pie" in view of the earlier quotation but it´s a bit long, so here´s something with tomatoes in it instead.