Day 31 – yet again at Pitões das Júnias

Day 31 – yet again at Pitões das Júnias

A much cooler day here, single figure Celsius, with the sun rarely poking through the cloud, so a good chance this afternoon to catch up on a bit of business with some book reviews, and planning of the next few days.

But in the morning I wanted to compete the last arc of the PR11 trail that has been so rewarding for the last few days.

It began, of course, with a coffee in town. Four days here and I know the cafe regulars now, the owner knows my order, and Roja knows all the dogs around town. The lightly coloured one, a Transmontano Mastiff, in the photo below is a highlight, a puppy, and even Roja has given in to the continual prompting, and plays with him. The other is an Estrela Mountain dog.

I bought bread from the bakery, and some of the local honey, which I am told, is excellent. Three euros for all.

This part of the PR11 meanders through town as if it was a sightseeing tour itself. Some more pictures above and below, to try and get over what a wonderful place it is.

Give attention to the tiny house, in the last photo, not much bigger than a shed, with the number 2. Perfect for an old fella and his dog.

Then there’s a nasty section of the trail, at this time of year anyway, as it’s mud and bog as it follows various streams through farmland.

Here’s another ‘spot-the-van’ photo, from up on the plateau..

Passing some cows, with their dogs looking after them, no shepherd, just dogs, friendly as ever..

My section finished at the monastery where I had left off three days ago.

There’s rain on the roof as I write this, the first for a week, and it’s not forecast to be much. I’m onwards and eastwards tomorrow, some matters to attend to in the town of Chaves, then across to Montesinho National Park.

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supera superiora sequi

SafeReturnDoubtful is my alias.


Where is Andy?

Shap, Cumbria circa 2016 – Tia, Roja and Mac behind

I was so much older then…

Dartmoor 2019


Quote of the Week

Alice asked the Cheshire Cat, who was sitting in a tree, ‘What road do I take?’ The cat asked, ‘Where do you want to go?’ ‘I don’t know,’ Alice answered. ‘Then,’ said the cat, ‘it really doesn’t matter, does it?’


Lewis Carroll