We spent September at Mum and Dad's new home, painting walls white and working in their house and garden. A predictably and unpredictably eventful few weeks including an almighty argument over a toilet cistern and puncturing an electricity pipe with a spade.
Our oldest doggy Woolly bit right through his bottom lip with his last remaining tooth. His lip got hooked onto his tooth and it took a three person wrestle and a lot of blood to unhook it. Previous compost and cat shit eater would then only eat slithers of parma ham and yoghurt from a spoon. He got an infection in his blood and we had a sad few weeks thinking he might join his bro Woofta who'd died in August.. But he recovered and is back to his crusty self, quivering at the smell of an apple core or a cat bowl to lick.
We left them to the peace and quiet of their hill-top paradise and fucked off to the North of Portugal. The middle of October was WET. Living in the van started getting a bit damp… We found warmth with some wondrous people in an old ruin, half way up Portugal's highest mountain in the Serra Da Estrella mountain range. Some peeps in Amsterdam (who's other projects include bailing the guy out of jail who sails his ship into whaling boats) had bought a couple of old ruins surrounded by steep terraces and had commissioned Simon, a kind and laid-back guy with a PHD in laser physics, to convert the land and ruins into a retreat space for minority communities. We were there to help with the conversion.
The project is 500m up a winding track, just about 4x4-drivable but only by one with a cracked windscreen and cracked chassis and that had reached its final resting place in the Portuguese mountains. The only 'habitable' space in the ruins was a little stone room which we used as a kitchen. A wood-burning stove kept it and us warm and dry, we cooked on it and ate like Queens and Kings, sat around a big table, reading, playing games and having the kind of laughs and debates you can imagine you'd have between a PHD laser physicist and spiritual types. There was a huge Estrella mountain dog called Palancha who 'came with the house' that we fell in love with. He'd dug himself a cave in the mountain-side for sleeping in and when Simon arrived he thought 'What's that big hole doing there..?' and promptly filled it in. He realised his mistake when he saw Palancha sitting next to the pile of earth looking forlorn.
The terraces are irrigated by water mines cut into the mountain side, which collect spring water in huge granite tanks and direct it around the land via inconspicuous channels called levadas. Using gravity to water the entire mountain side plot, minimal effort! The impressive system had been there for god knows how many hundreds of years and needed clearing of god knows how many years of chestnuts and apples and vegetation. Cue spider bite and uncovering sauntering poisonous fire salamanders. Along with enough dense bramble growth to keep us busy swinging the sythe, the terraces were covered in old twisted apple and sweet chestnut trees, grape vines, tree cabbages and the odd squash plant. A feast for the Javali (wild boar) and for us! Hours collecting and roasting and eating and making into chutneys, to the sound of the rushing stream and jangling goat bells.
We replaced a rotten old floor with a sexy new wooden one, tarped up the roof in a windy, rope-throwing, crumbling roof scrambling mission, planted fruit trees and made friends 4 lyf with our mountain fambly! Thank you so much Simon, Caroline, Jack, Alon, Ze Luis & Father!
We were put in touch with someone who had a rescue puppy that needed a home... So, suckers to dogs especially little ones with white beards, on our way South from the mountains we picked her up. A stray had turned up under a family's decking, covered in fleas and ticks, they nursed her back to health and when she was brave enough to come out from under the decking one of their other rescue dogs promptly shagged her. She had 8 puppies! All of which had a scheduled re-home, including the mum, they were beautiful and lovely natured... But then one of the puppies went missing whilst out on a walk, and turned up again a whole month later, by which time the person who had wanted to take her had lost interest… So now we are 3! She is called Jella, the adventure dawg. She wees and poos in the water and eats sea-shells, amongst other things. We swore that she'd sleep in her bed on the floor, but for some reason (nothing to do with me) we keep waking up with her under the duvet between us, with her head on the pillow.
Cruuuuzing the Silver Coast, with wild Atlantic beaches and house-sized waves mostly to ourselves. Although we accidentally (really) parked up for 3 days in a popular dogging spot down a track by the coast at Nazare…
We've been collecting washed up beach plastic and other random crap to make into things that are equally random but hopefully less crap and have been blessed with hot sun for all of December. We found an abandoned bar and moved in for a week where we had a big wooden decking for yoga and little covered cubicles for washing. I made myself a bit too at home and took all my clothes off for a good old grooming in the sunshine, just as a car-full of Portuguese boys turned up.
We chatted to the few tame mice running around and sitting in our shoes outside, and then while we were eating dinner, we spotted one little bugger watching us from the cab of the van through the window into the living part. It's probably still there, but to avoid picking up more furry friends we made an exit from our bar-home and headed inland for Tomar.
Jella is marvellous and full of ridiculous puppy joy. She has a fluffy beard and bushy ginger eyebrows, they say dogs look like their owners (Angus obviously). Unfortunately she won't stop eating shit, including ours. The morning we were packing up the van to leave for Tomar, via the vets, I did a last min poo in the bushes and jumped in the van. We called for Jella and over she trotted with a brown stained beard, licking her lips. I couldn't bring myself to tell Angus she'd been munching my shit (she'd done it a few days earlier and I was already in trouble for not digging a deep enough hole for it that time)… So I just said 'uhhhh Jella has eaten something gross, lets wash her mouth…'
Everything was fine and then the vet gave her a worming tablet, which made her vomit in the van while we were on our way to Tomar. Angus was gasping for fresh air and shouting that the sick smelt 'SERIOUSLY FUCKING WEIRD'… I kept quiet about it being a regurgitated concoction of her lunch and my shit. And then she shat out what looked like spaghetti but actually was worms. YUCK.
We stopped off in Fatima with coach after coach load of other people- thought maybe there was some kind of festival on. We didn't know that Fatima has the 4th largest Catholic Church in the World and we'd arrived on the Holy day for the Feast of Immaculate Conception. We wandered through the crowds trying to stop Jella from leaping in excitement on a lot of serious faces. Then we saw a 'no dogs' sign and realised that perhaps that was why we were feeling uncomfortable... But didn't God put dogs on Earth too... + God spells Dog backwards...
We didn't go into Tomar's famous Convento De Cristo because it didn't like dogs either. So instead we wandered around outside the walls in a most incredible arboretum, spying on red squirrels and being generally in awe of the spectacular trees, wild flowers and fucking gorgeous December weather. For lunch, trying to avoid veal on a menu of veal, veal, followed by more veal we thought we were ordering the kindest/less meaty/whatever option, but ended up with a pig trotter + other unidentifiable animal part stew. Absolute belief in using every bit of the animal if it is going to be killed, but suddenly didn't feel so hungry. 'Doggy-bags' are normal in Portugal so a parasite-free Jella ate very well for the rest of the week!
We spent a few days swimming in the river Tejo, exploring caves and waterfalls, avoiding processionary caterpillar nests and strange explosions.... And then we're driving (or flying if you're Angus) home for Christmas.
Jella has an extra toe on one of her back feet... A witches dog!
