In early March 2016, I found myself in a deserted coach station in Spain. At my feet lay my bike, wrapped in industrial size bin bags. Next to it, my four panniers rested in a line ready to be mounted on the racks. And I stood in front of them, the reality of my journey slowly sinking in. Eventually I hooked the panniers to their rightful place. I got on the bike and off I went. This is what I saw.
For 32 weeks, I will post a batch of photos every Monday morning.
Later words and sounds will come. But for now, I’m going to share what I experienced through the photos I took. If you miss a post, go to this page to find all the links.
I followed the coast north of Lisbon until I got fed up with endless cities and houses and veered inland. There I discovered modern villages and small towns. The Alentejo and its deserted roads where truly gone and it took some time to adjust to cars. Luckily cycle paths had actually been laid to separate cyclists from traffic.