Where's Bertie? He's sitting on a patch of wasteland/maybe-an-Aire just on the south side of Alcoutim. A service point has been 90+% constructed here (it's missing just a tap head and an approach ramp) , but there are currently no signs that it is going to be completed; however, its presence would seem to indicate that this is an official motorhome parking area. Exact location: 37.46830, -7.47110.
Weather: Some high level cloud but otherwise a lovely shorts-and-tshirt day.
I'll just chuck this photo in for my sister, who will appreciate seeing a tin tray in such good condition.
It was an earlier start than intended. My alarm clock almost always stays set for 0730, which would have been fine today, except that my phone had decided to switch its connection to a phone mast in Spain, just across the river, where the time is one hour ahead. Thus, I was rudely awoken at 0630.
That's not to say that we were on the move early. A leisurely breakfast gave the sun the chance to start warming the air (it was 8.5 degrees in Bertie when we woke up this morning, so the outside temperature was significantly lower than the forecast 9 degrees). Then off I set on foot for the 6.3km to our next destination, whilst Mick drove. A cunning ploy: after the last couple of hilly runs, this one would be net downhill. Unfortunately, 'net downhill' doesn't mean 'all downhill' and many an undulation was to be found, although all of gentle gradients.
I was running on the road, but it's remarkably quiet. Only five vehicles passed me, one of which was Bertie. There's no pavement, but there are arrows painted on the tarmac at regular intervals indicating where to cross so as to always be visible when negotiating the many bends.
I may have been on tarmac, but the surroundings were still lovely. This was my first good view of Sanlucar, which sits across the river from Alcoutim.
When I'd asked Mick to meet me at this parking area, I didn't know if we were going to stay or continue on to the Aire on the other side of town, but once here we couldn't see any reason to move. The village centre is conveniently only a few minutes walk away, along the river and Bertie was nice and level with no immediate neighbours.
In fact, for most of the day, this large area has been giving the appearance of a 'British Enclave' with just four vans here, all British. We've become a more multi-national contingent this evening, with a French van one side of us, a German the other, and a Nederlander beyond that. Quite why they all felt the need to huddle around this corner when there's oddles of space just over there ==>, I don't know!
There doesn't seem to be an awful lot to Alcoutim, but it's a pleasant village, with the narrow, cobbled streets that you would expect in an old settlement in Iberia. The waterfront and the views over to Sanlucar are particlarly nice. It is possible to get a boat over to Spain from here, but unfortunately the cross-border zip wire (yes, really!) doesn't seem to be running at the moment.
With our last loaf of bread having been bought on Saturday, the remaining chunk was getting to the point of only being useful as a wheel chock, so it was good to hear that there is a little shop in the village. We managed to locate it too, even though it disguises itself well, and once it had reopened after its 3.5 hour lunchbreak, we paid it a visit. It may well get some more of our custom before we leave, as our last supermarket shop, which was meant to provision us for 7-10 days, was a little lacking; we're not going to starve, but the fresh veg drawer in the fridge is looking like a plague of locusts has been through.
An interesting bit of history
It seems as if half of Portugal is for sale, whether buildings or just land. With so many of the properties we've seen being in this sort of state, their chances of selling seem slim.
Weather: Some high level cloud but otherwise a lovely shorts-and-tshirt day.
It was an earlier start than intended. My alarm clock almost always stays set for 0730, which would have been fine today, except that my phone had decided to switch its connection to a phone mast in Spain, just across the river, where the time is one hour ahead. Thus, I was rudely awoken at 0630.
That's not to say that we were on the move early. A leisurely breakfast gave the sun the chance to start warming the air (it was 8.5 degrees in Bertie when we woke up this morning, so the outside temperature was significantly lower than the forecast 9 degrees). Then off I set on foot for the 6.3km to our next destination, whilst Mick drove. A cunning ploy: after the last couple of hilly runs, this one would be net downhill. Unfortunately, 'net downhill' doesn't mean 'all downhill' and many an undulation was to be found, although all of gentle gradients.
When I'd asked Mick to meet me at this parking area, I didn't know if we were going to stay or continue on to the Aire on the other side of town, but once here we couldn't see any reason to move. The village centre is conveniently only a few minutes walk away, along the river and Bertie was nice and level with no immediate neighbours.
In fact, for most of the day, this large area has been giving the appearance of a 'British Enclave' with just four vans here, all British. We've become a more multi-national contingent this evening, with a French van one side of us, a German the other, and a Nederlander beyond that. Quite why they all felt the need to huddle around this corner when there's oddles of space just over there ==>, I don't know!
There doesn't seem to be an awful lot to Alcoutim, but it's a pleasant village, with the narrow, cobbled streets that you would expect in an old settlement in Iberia. The waterfront and the views over to Sanlucar are particlarly nice. It is possible to get a boat over to Spain from here, but unfortunately the cross-border zip wire (yes, really!) doesn't seem to be running at the moment.
With our last loaf of bread having been bought on Saturday, the remaining chunk was getting to the point of only being useful as a wheel chock, so it was good to hear that there is a little shop in the village. We managed to locate it too, even though it disguises itself well, and once it had reopened after its 3.5 hour lunchbreak, we paid it a visit. It may well get some more of our custom before we leave, as our last supermarket shop, which was meant to provision us for 7-10 days, was a little lacking; we're not going to starve, but the fresh veg drawer in the fridge is looking like a plague of locusts has been through.
An interesting bit of history
It seems as if half of Portugal is for sale, whether buildings or just land. With so many of the properties we've seen being in this sort of state, their chances of selling seem slim.
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