Praia de Sao Juliao. (Day 2).

Last night it was nice once again to be lulled to sleep by the sound of the sea. We hadn't realised how much we'd missed its soothing sound. First thing this morning it was so quiet, the waves were the only sound to be heard. Until, a couple lost their dog. It had run up through the greenery on the side of the cliff. After lots of calling its name, Lucky, (questionable name in the circumstances), and whistling, the owners driven by adrenaline set off through the undergrowth to the cliff top. After a while, Lucky materialised back at the bottom, and was being held by someone in the car park. Good game Lucky!

Being a Sunday, we would normally take advantage of the roads being quieter and travel for quite a few miles. But the roads in Portugal seem fairly quiet, away from the cities, most of the time. Originally, we thought we may travel in to Lisbon, but the entrance to the secure parking for Marge was not wide enough, so Lisbon will have to wait for another time.

So we opted for a more leisurely day, beginning with a walk along the beach, dwarfed by dramatic layered rock, amongst which we could see tiny fossils, mostly shells.

John picked up a couple of decent sized 3 - 4 inch across fossilised bivalves, which we shall bring home with us. The beach was busy, and out in the sea there were quite a few surfers.

The tide was out when we set off, walking along the long stretch of white sand, peeking in to the rock pools as we sauntered by. By the time we decided to turn back, the tide had also turned, and the sand we'd imprinted with our footsteps was now under water, so a quick scramble over some rocks saw us safely back.

Late this afternoon, at high tide, John went off fishing, and Angela set off for a walk along the coast path.

The change in terrain on the coast path was amazing after only a few metres. Still up on the cliff, but with a flatter, elevation. Almost like the surface of the moon at one point, then leading into a small ravine. It was so tranquil, she sat a while to enjoy the scene, all the time the pounding Atlantic could be heard colliding with the rocks below. Returning to John, the sea had picked up its pace, throwing waves over the rocks he was fishing from, all a little unnerving. It was easy to see how people find themselves being swept into the sea.

The afternoon was once again warm, and sun hats were required. But as soon as the sun goes down a little chill arrives in the air. But we're not complaining. About five thirty this afternoon, just as we were working, (yes working), on some, accounts queries, a telephone call (face time), came in from Angela's son Chris, his wife Kirsty, and our grandson, one year old Elliot. We were told the weather was awful at home, affecting their television signal. What's a television? We suggested they book a cheap flight out to Portugal, there's no television here either. Weather's nice though. We then used John's phone to show them our view of the sea, and the other vans parked with us. Chris asked, "are you in a car park with market vans?" "Yes", we replied, and here is our box of vegetables left over from this mornings market, showing him the contents of our veg box. Nothing wrong with a parking area to stop over in, it's free, and in most cases you get the best view in the house, we've certainly stayed at some magical places, and seen some amazing sights. Talking of sights, an older surfer, thought it would be nice if we all saw him in the buff earlier this evening. How we've missed the German's love of naturism!

Praia de Sao Juliao

Luxury at the aire yesterday. A lovely clean ladies and gents toilet, but alas, no shower for us to indulge in, we're guessing that lucky day was probably a one off. During the night, the wind got up and we could hear its whisper as it passed through the trees.

This morning the French walked by Marge, craning their necks for a look inside. We know what Marge would have said to them!

Close by, in the town, a market was taking place, mostly fruit and vegetables, but a couple of men were selling cockerells and rabbits. We noticed the fruit and vegetable stalls all seemed to be run by women sixty plus. We guessed, the husbands cultivated the crops, whilst the women sold the produce. What really baffled us, was the fact they were all selling exactly the same produce, how did the local people choose who to buy from?

Late morning, we set off back towards the coast to Ericeira.

At Lidl, we just needed a few fresh items, (and a custard tart), we parked next to a young German family. The slogan on the back of their van read, 'life is better outside'. We couldn't agree more. On further research of their website, we discovered that they have been on the road since April. The Dutch couple we were next to yesterday, left home at the beginning of September, and are away until the beginning of December. They had an internet business selling furniture online. It seems, that the urge to travel, is vast, we meet different people everyday, all with a different story to tell, but all with a similar thought and objective. Life is short, get out there and live it!

Angela wanted to visit Mafra, so we diverted back there to see the palace and monastery, both which seemed in need of some money spending on it.

In the church, still open to the public, a wedding was taking place, amongst the continuous flow of visitors. It was all a little bizarre.

We'd experienced a few problems whilst driving today, mostly steep inclines and narrow roads. At one point we thought we'd be in big trouble in a village with very, very, narrow roads, and high walls. But two old men, waved us in a direction Angela wasn't happy about driving in, and apart from it being a steep downhill road with bends, after negotiating the exit, we were back on a main road. Thank you, helpful Potuguese elders.

Tonight we are back at the beach. We have had enough culture, and have missed the Atlantic ocean and its strong determined character. Although it was late afternoon, we parked Marge and set off for a walk along the sand, under the unstable cliffs.

The sea, was aggressive as ever, but we're used to its rage now. The sun reflected off the sea in flashes of light, shattered by the waves as they flung themselves at the rocks. The rock formation was interesting, if not a little unstable. In a cave, John came across an 'old fossil'!

Returning later to Marge, we spoke a little to the young couple next to us. Then whilst we cooked our evening meal, we discussed how exciting it was to be young, fearless, and enthusiastic, and just go for it. A life on the road fuelled by pasta and hormones. We all wish we could be youthful for ever. Well you all might, but the 'old fossil' in the cave is only fifty nine, and fuelled by hormones. Time to put on the pasta!

Alcobaca

Before we left Bathalha, we took a short walk along by the stream behind the parking area opposite. There had been several campervans parked over there last night, but on closer inspection, we discounted it as a 'no go' area, there were mosquitoes everywhere. So we remained on the official aire, where one of the spaces had free electricity, but this was long taken up by a French van. After all, they did have a television and microwave to power, poor things.

Today we have only driven a few miles on, slightly inland from the coast to the town of Alcobaca.

Here is Portugal's largest church, the Mosteiro de Santa Maria, renowned for its simple medieval architecture.

We went inside the stunning building, and saw the tombs of the tragic lovers King Pedro and his mistress Ines. Some of the stonework around the internal door ways was exquisite, especially the Sacrisity doorway.

We'd arrived at the town around lunchtime, so had packed some sandwiches to stop and eat whilst we looked around. Sitting opposite the monastery to eat them, we likened the outside stone pillars to Angkor Wat in Cambodia, but on a very much smaller scale.

High up on the hill, we could see the old castle, so enthusiastically set off in its direction, stopping to ask a lady lent on her balcony above us, for directions. "Straight ahead", she gestured. So we ventured down the path, as directed, which ran behind some houses. Now this is John and Angela Hampton we're talking about here, so as you will not be surprised, we were not on the official footpath to the castle. Angela, very unladylike, bottom stuck in the air, scrambled up the loose soil that skirted the castle, grabbing anything on her way to propel her to the top.

Arriving at our objective, the castle itself turned out to be a bit of a disappointment, but the view back down to the town and monastery was fantastic.

Later, back at Marge, the outside temperature was 31c, so we decided to have coffee and read the guide book for a while, and clean out the fridge, as you do! You see it's not all fun, fun, fun. Just after five o' clock, chaos arrived at the aire, in the form of three French vans arriving on mass. One of the French ladies said," we must all be parked together". We don't think so love! Meanwhile other vans had arrived, and were queuing behind them. You could see by the way the French women were watching us all, that they expected us all to move up. Well that wasn't going to happen. Then they tried to work out if three vans could fit into two spaces. Resigned to being separated, they settled their vans, giving the rest of us the evils. Well you should have arrived earlier, there was plenty of space at four o' clock.

So here we all are, the smell of cooking wafts through the air, despite its mix of so many meals, it smells lovely. Most people are now are enjoying a glass of wine or a beer, and all is right with the world, except in England! The Dutchman next to us cannot understand why the English want Brexit, or Boris Johnson for that matter. We explained, we don't either. Time for more wine and our own dinner.

Wait until the others smell our sausages cooking. We thought we'd save the best, 'til last!