The ride down to Portsmouth was wet and cold. We had only been back from Thailand for a week and were enjoying the cooler weather. A change in temperature had initially been enjoyable but by the time we had ridden four hours in the rain we were like a pair of shivering, miserable drowned rats. We sat in the ferry terminal building and dripped on the floor while clutching mugs of tea. Half an hour later morale and warmth was restored and we chatted to some friends who were joining a large, organised trip to Morocco.
The ferry from Portsmouth to Santander takes 36 hours. We sailed in the evening and arrived in the morning, two nights and a day later. The ship is only a year old and of quite a modest size. About a thousand passengers and just two bars. We had an inside cabin with a rather fetching illuminated picture of window. The restaurant was French. The food was good. We spent a while on deck looking, in vain, for whales. We chatted in the bar, ate more that we really needed and watched a film in our cabin. A couple of valiant crew members attempted to provide entertainment in the form of quizzes, bingo and songs. I suspect many of the passengers thought this was not a good use of their time.
From Santander we headed fairly directly to Porto. No special reason for this. It was just somewhere both of us fancied visiting. As it turned out, Porto was a delightful place. We had a hotel a short way from the central area around the river and used the local, very efficient, metro system to get into town. The old part of town is a maelstrom of activity. Many, many people eating, cooking, buying, selling, sitting, running, dancing or standing like statues. It was fascinating to wander round and take in the full range of activities. Eventually we settled for a meal while perched on a tiny balcony overlooking the river.
Next morning we visited Henry the Navigator. Prince Henry was famous in the 15th century as a figure central to the expansion of the Portuguese Empire. In particular he was an innovator in practical and theoretic marine navigation. Back in 1996, my great friend Andy also became a business partner in the fledgling company I had started a few years before. Together we improved the marine navigation system that I had been working on ready to bring it to market. After long and tortuous discussions, we named the system “Henry”. Over twenty years later we sold the company on but Henry was still going as a core product. Visiting one of the very few statues of Henry in the world (there may only be two) felt like a bit of a pilgrimage and was very gratifying.
That done, it was time for some port. We crossed the river on a small ferry to the side where all the great Port Houses are located. Sadly, we rapidly discovered that tours around these places are all booked up days in advance. We were actually quite happy just looking around the area and then down a very narrow back street, we came across a bar offering not just port tasting but also a selection of local cheeses. The combination was genuinely irresistible. There was quite a lot of port and we enjoyed every last drop of it. Then we rode a cable car up to the top of the bridge, walked across the bridge, found yet another port bar for one last bedtime drink and finally hopped on the metro home. We did not sing on the train but it was quite a relaxed trip.
Back on the bike, we had planned to head south to meet friends. However, reports of high temperatures from the guys heading to Morrocco and the weather forecast suggested we would be cooked. So, sorry guys, but we turned tail and headed back north along the cool coastline. We came across some delightful small Spanish coastal towns and life for the next few days settled into an easy rhythm. We would arrive in the afternoon, shower, change and wander down to the town square. After a bit of pottering, and possibly a beer, we would settle on somewhere to eat before heading back to our hotel and a welcoming bed. Next morning we would breakfast, pack the bike and set off to do it all over again. The rhythm of the road can be an immensely satisfying way to spend some time.
All too soon we crossed through the Picos de Europa mountains, where it was briefly cold and raining. There was snow on some of the peaks. As we were admiring this, a black storm cloud, complete with thunder and hail, descended on us. Carefully, we made our way down the mountain pass to the north where the skies cleared, the air warmed and the roads were dry again. Right down on the coast we arrived at the final, but very delightful, small town of Comillas. Here we enjoyed a particularly good sunset and next day got the ship back to Portsmouth.
