This morning my mother calls from Good Old Germany. - She reports a little from home and inquires about our tour. - I mention that we are currently enjoying having nice showers at this campground. She reports that she can hardly imagine what it looks like on a campground. If only my father and she had been camping just once. Since I have digitalized sometime once the old slides of my parents, I find directly two suitable pictures. Quite luxurious were the 70s. - Or was it the 80s? It must be, but the canvas, milk jug and especially the coffee cups are full 70s or?

Also today the weather is a bit mixed. Both Torgit and I have the urge to finally move again. But while Torgit has the need for a long walk, I feel more like cycling. So we go or drive separate ways.

However, both of us are drawn to the Cliff. Torgit explores the cliff and the bays along the so-called fishermen's path. This is a section of the Rota Vicentina. This trail follows the coastline for 120 kilometers. Torgit is content with a small section today. - I follow parallel a small road, along the coast to the north located Porto das Barcas, a small fishing port. The fishermen's huts are located directly above the harbor. The most beautiful house, situated directly on a rocky outcrop, is for sale - something could be made out of this. From the terrace side you have a wonderful view of the sea, the rugged coastline, as well as the harbor. Today the sea is restless. The surf breaks thunderously on the rocks. A natural spectacle of a special kind. I could live here. But for Torgit and her fear of heights, this is certainly not a good place. Drum I discard my already in the head emerging plans, for further design and make me again on the way.

I continue north. After an additional 5 kilometers, I turn right onto a forest path. This turns after some time into the purest farmland path. It goes up and down, the puddles of the nightly rain showers are getting bigger. At times they take the whole path. Carefully I drive on, now only not get stuck. It goes along gigantic pastures. The cattle show me clearly what they think of my visit. After the first glance they turn away. One of them not only sticks its rear end out at me, but also shows me, in the truest sense of the word, how shitty it thinks I am. To be able to look from such proximity a bovine animal into the backside, has not come under me also yet.

My ride suddenly ends at the back end of a farm. Turn back? - I decide to continue, but keep a careful lookout for biting dogs. The day before we noticed a large number of Latinos and Indians in the village. Today I know where they find their work. The farm is used for raspberry cultivation. The number of greenhouses is enormous. Here a lot of people find wages and bread. At some point I reach the front of the farm. On the way only one or the other farm worker greeted me. The dogs were present, but held siesta.

When I reach the next time a firm road, I orient myself first. The rough navigation was right. From here, it is not so far to our place. There I arrive almost at the same time with Torgit. - Both of us are hungry. We pimp the rest of our pumpkin soup and have lunch. Now it's time for us to take a siesta.

In the aftermath of my tour, I notice how rarely I have used the wheel. I have acquired this only shortly before our trip new. It hurts my heart to see how much the wheel suffers from the tour. In various places, such as chains, sprockets, brakes and screws is already clearly visible rust. In addition, the luggage rack is not yet the ideal solution. The tailgate just can't be opened when the roof tent is open. We need to find a better solution in this regard.

The siesta in the hammock is shorter than planned. Within seconds, the temperature drops and the rain is back. I rush into the car with the blanket.

Since our food supply is slowly coming to an end, we decide to eat out today. To manage this on a Monday evening is not so easy. Most restaurants are closed. We stop by the supermarket to see if it is still open. But even here everything is already gloomy. Shortly before we give up our search, there is a bar. This one is not only open, but also full of prope. We promptly decide that this is our bar. For a moment Torgit with a glass of wine, me with a glass of beer in hand, wait at the counter until a table becomes available. The bar has a chalkboard with some, few dishes. Something like that is usually always good, I would only understand what is written there. So we order once again with hands and feet and hope for our instincts. The food is hearty and good. We quickly get into conversation with a Portuguese from Lisbon and subsequently with Carlos. - Carlos is called Karl-August by birth, lives on Mallorca, but comes from the Netherlands. Carlos hikes as a backpacker along the coast. He asks us how long we are on the road. And a conversation on the subject of travel, contentment, and happiness begins. As we leave the pub at the end of the evening, I feel happiness. Suddenly I know what I have been missing in the last few days. Just another good conversation, with someone other than my better half.

Insight of the day: Sustainable conversations make people happy!

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