BBy MARGARET BROWN features@algarveresident.com
Margaret Brown is one of the Algarve Resident’s longest standing contributors and has lived in the Algarve for more than 20 years.
WHILE THANKING God every morning that I am granted another day, sometimes when motoring on the roads of Portugal it is by virtue of being in the right place at the right time – call it luck or our Guardian Angels keeping watch.
Leaving Lagos on the dual carriageway in the direction of Portimão a couple of nights ago we met a car on full headlights charging towards us at high speed, going against the flow. With squealing tyres, at the last moment the driver swerved across in front of us and dived round a sharp corner into a slip road. The friend who was driving maintained a dignified silence and handled the situation with typical British sang-froid: another couple of yards and we would have been history.
The following morning on the same road near Odiáxere, a woman driver took a U-turn from the hard shoulder on our side just in front of the car, crossed a solid white line while speaking on her mobile phone and hurtled back the way she had come. Common occurrences, and one day we may be in the wrong place at the right time and become another number on the list of road casualties.
So it was no surprise to find that on Saturday of the inaugural weekend, the access road from Mexilhoeira Grande to the new race track was incomplete and barred to traffic. In consequence spectators, competitors and hangers-on had the choice of two country approaches: either through the back lanes of Alcalar or along a narrow winding route through Arão. From our house looking across a couple of kilometres to the Via de Infante it was evident that both coming and going, motorcyclists fired up by the Grand Prix not far away were doing their best to emulate their role models.
On the plus side, very little from the circuit disturbed our peace, just a faint sound of engines at full throttle in between periods of quiet. Compared with the loud and offensive drone of a circling twin-engined aeroplane used in the training of parachutists, it was no more than the hum of bees on a sleepy summer’s day.
Disruption of the countryside and loss of habitat have driven creatures indigenous to that area to migrate. Most obvious are the families of Wild Boar, especially in our local hills and valleys where they have ploughed the land for food right up to our boundary wall. Some friends living higher up the hill came home one evening to find a boar, his sow and four half grown juveniles alongside their cottage wall. Unfazed by the sudden blaze of light, the pigs remained a short while before strolling off into the night.
Now, following the heavy rain that has turned hill tracks into mud, these large animals have made a number of different sized wallows, descending in size to suit to Ma, Pa and the kids. Small snouts and dainty trotters leaving prints round little baths, large imprints fringing hollows geared to accommodate full sized adults. Also there appears to be a young orphan independent of this family, its small foot prints following other paths and venturing nearer to human habitation. Being mainly nocturnal, the only way to observe them would be either to sit up all night or go out before dawn with camera at the ready, and I am too old for that.
Comforting flames
We lit the wood burning stove on November 2 for the first time this winter: another step on the path to Christmas, bringing to mind pictures of other fires in an old cottage in Somerset that we bought at auction. Local yokels said it was fit only for demolition but we began the job of renovation and built an open fireplace in the living room that could accommodate a sizeable length of tree trunk. Having left once, both children came back to live with us when the going got tough and we had many happy evenings in front of that fire, something that drew us together and really was the heart of the home.
Historically our ancestors appear to have tamed fire about 1.8 millions years ago which revolutionised the way of life for Homo Erectus, giving protection against predators as well as making it possible to camp both in open country and in caves. Food was cooked instead of being eaten raw and there was an increased chance of surviving during the harsh winters experienced back then. It seems to be a human instinct to gather round a good blaze, family and friends united by the comforting flames that neither gas nor electricity can imitate. However, without a power supply most other things that make life easy would grind to a halt and although no one welcomes a new line of pylons marching across what was unspoilt countryside. I watched fascinated as doll sized workmen high above ground connected and stretched the high tension wires from terminal to terminal and wondered if they are paid danger money. Their view must have been right across the sea to where fishery vessels were currently keeping an eye out for Spanish trawlers, known for their habit of straying into Portuguese waters for a little illegal fishing on the side. Although carrying a small gun on the foredeck, relationships with their big neighbour being good, a shot across the bows would have to be a last resort.
