That Wasn't There Last Time We Looked!
⬅ previous ⬆intro next ➡Day 7 ~ 21 May ~ Alqueva Lake
Today we want to visit the town of Corval, known for its ceramics workshops. It's a bit of a long cycle ride, but it looks like there's another mooring point that's closer, so we'll drive the boat there first.
Amanda takes a turn at the wheel.
Unfortunately, when we get to our destination, there's nothing remotely like a jetty to be seen! Either we've misread the map or it's out of date, but we're not landing here. Back the way we came, then.
It takes us the best part of an hour and a half to cycle, but it's another nice day and we don't have a schedule to keep. And here we are at a pottery, in case you couldn't guess.
Actually, if you were Portuguese, you might not be able to guess. All of those words are quite different to the Portuguese one.
Phew! An olaria sign. Now we're sorted.
It looks nice, but it also looks closed. Although it's the middle of the week, a lot of places seem shut, probably because there isn't enough passing tourist trade this late in the season. Once again, we are walking mostly empty streets.
We do manage to find somewhere that's open, and have a bit of a chat with the proprietor and buy a couple of the little ceramic swallows that seem to be on every wall. You can see the sort of thing at the right of the workshop above, but it seems we don't have any photos at all of the place we actually go to.
See, deserted.
Nothing to do with pottery, just such a fabulous colour.
And there are lemon trees everywhere. We had tried and failed to buy lemons in the supermarket before, and perhaps the reason is that nobody local needs them. Just at the bottom right, there appears to be a mysterious hand: I wonder whose it can possibly be...
Not quite true third-world level...
Now you might be forgiven for thinking that the "Corval House of Culture" is some sort of museum or gallery. Since it's closed at this moment, we can't tell. So I have looked it up: it appears to be a football team!
The town pump has known pumpier days.
There's going to be a festival, but it starts tomorrow, so all we see is a bit of setting up.
It's been another interesting - up to a point - town. Now I have to say that if it were a straight choice between the near-ghost-towns of Alqueva and the family resorts of the Istrian coast of Croatia in school holiday time (2019: no blog; it was that good), we'll take the former, no question, but we are still a bit surprised at how different this is from our previous boating holidays in France.
Note well, English motorists!
Of course, it's not difficult to give cyclists room on this road. We certainly can't complain about traffic round these parts, and while better bikes would be nice (especially Amanda's) it's all very calm and relaxing, with only enough hills that we don't have to feel we're being all pathetic and wimpy.
Either side of this grand gate, there is nothing like a fence, let alone a wall, to keep anyone out. Obviously a bit of symbolism is important.
See this road?
"What road?" you may well ask. No, I can't see it either from this angle, but walk into the grass and look back...
There's a road sign telling you to stop even if it's not clear how you would have started.
We're sufficiently far from the lake here that it's impossible to say, but it could well be that this was a road from a place now underwater that doesn't get any mermaid traffic.
We look up to Monsaraz (which we visited yesterday) from a different angle before we rejoin the route we took from the boat both days.
We saw this yesterday, but didn't check it out because it was getting a bit late by the time we'd investigated other things.
It doesn't look too imposing from outside.
From the inside, though, it's architecturally interesting even if a near-ruin.
It looks a bit more dramatic from this angle. Google tells us that the Ermida de Santa Catarina was built in the 18th century, probably by the Knights Templar, to protect travellers in the area.
This historic building exhibits the symbols of the Knights Templars and the architectonic style typical to the order. The interior is a wide space with a Romanesque arch granting access to the apsis.
Well goodness! Look what Amanda has done!
Oh, but wait: she's ridden this hill (slowly) twice in the last three months and that makes her number one?! I think it's fair to say that this is not like Girona, where you can't move for hardcore cyclists racing up and down every bit of road to be found. We sure as hell didn't get any Strava shout-outs there!
Her reward is to go for a little swim.
I'll check out some other birds...
For the nerdy amongst you, this is using the Canon RF 600 f/11 lens, which is a bit of a weird one. Normally a 600 mm lens is huge, heavy and costs most of a centipede's arms and legs: Canon's more traditional EF 600 f/4 weighs over 3kg (which they call "super lightweight) and the best price I can quickly find online is nearly £13,000! Mine weighs less than 1kg and costs about £700.
So what's the catch? Well, that f/11 figure is what makes all the difference. In essense, the bigger the f-number, the less (expensive!) glass is needed, but the less light the lens captures. With cameras of previous generations, you couldn't get decent pictures with the amount of light that f/11 implied, but Canon's latest range is more than capable. So it's a compromise, yes, but then everything is. There's no way I would have ever considered that 3kg/£13k lens so its optical superiority is completely academic. Yeah, if I was a professional making my living out of the pictures I take, that would change the balance completely, but I'm not: I take posh holiday snaps :-)
[End of nerdy bit.]
My booty! Just what I need for a G&T!
I look lovingly up into my true love's eyes.
And then we'll have a selfie.
Goodnight.
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