In the end, they left with a whimper rather than a bang. Almost unnoticed, machines and material on the building site gradually started disappearing until suddenly there was nothing left – except for a large pile of building rubbish and some unfinished digging work.
We’d agreed to pay for some digger time by the hour, and just as I was stressing about what needed to be done in what order, Justo started loading it on the back of the truck.
“Broken,” he shrugged and headed off to the mechanic.
Justo has been a daily presence for the best part of two years barring rainstorms and public holidays, but he returned with an empty truck and, as if by magic, the last builders’ cabin disappeared.
That’s when we realised it was up to us now, and that all the things which still needed to be done … need to be done by us. And there’s quite a long list.
We bought our beautiful piece of Alentejo hilltop and valley in 2018 and moved here in 2020 at the height of COVID.
Having lived around the world for many years as a journalist and diplomat couple, Ana and I moved to Portugal from Kenya via California with our well-travelled Hollywood dog.
We had dreams of a new life, and blissfully naïve about what “off the grid” meant when planning a lodge to sleep 22 people … we had applied for a loan from Turismo de Portugal.
A consultant helped us to create a business plan accounting for every brick to every fork and spoon – everything we would need to pay for and estimates of how much we could realistically make.
The first set of figures didn’t add up and so we removed a cellar, a mezzanine and a few square metres from each building to get us from the orange to the green at the bottom of an extremely complex Excel sheet.
It was a crucial part of the process – a strong foundation to build upon – and a reassurance that somebody other than us thought this was both a good idea and one that might just succeed.
The money was approved and the wheels of bureaucracy and building specialties – the specifics of design – started slowly turning.
Learning to push, but not too hard, was an important step in an already long and confusing process hindered by COVID and inflation.
It almost didn’t happen. The eucalyptus forest had been cleared, we’d shaken hands with an old-school Alentejo builder, but there was no license, no contract and no deposit had been paid.
Then a large pile of reinforced steel was delivered, a digger turned up with a man called Justo and a building site started to take shape slowly, steadily and almost unnoticed as all the paperwork fell into line. Now they had left in a similar way.
Orçamentos, or quotes, are all very well, but the moment we discovered what we were paying for and what we weren’t was when we started making a to-do list.
Everything from lights to floor sealing, making shades for pergolas, buying and installing a restaurant kitchen: yes, everything including the kitchen sink.
We knew the interior design was up to us – we are not big, experienced developers with endless resources, but a couple of crazy people with a big idea and just about enough savings to lever a zero interest loan from a tourism board keen to boost the rural economy.
We have our own style, picked up from the hotels and lodges we’ve stayed in across the world from African safaris to Asian luxury.
The key thing is our story and the stories we are learning about the Alentejo which we want to share with our guests.
So, when we lost one of our beautiful 150-year-old cork oak trees to fire, we built its legacy into our project by cutting and drying the wood, and sanding and shaping it into a bar and bathroom countertops to support our locally handmade sinks.
We have a calçada patio, handwoven woollen headboards from Reguengos de Monsaraz, some cork furniture, crab-pot centre lights and artwork made from the eucalyptus roots we dug up to build.
When the construction cabins went, we realised just how large an area we have in need of landscaping, and so all efforts turned to the literal moving of mountains … of earth and gravel.
We need trees but can’t now plant until the autumn, so we need ground cover to beautify our eco-luxe lodge.
First, the already baked-hard soil was broken up with a giant tractor, then moved, levelled and rolled with enough of a slope to help water runoff next winter.
Twenty-three tonnes of white tout-venant were delivered – a mix of gravel and rock dust which compacts well to surround every building and make walking paths.
We probably need 23 tonnes more … and grey tout-venant, and gravel, and wood chips and mulch … and to cut down a few eucalyptus trees for edges, and cut a drainage ditch to fill with a different type of gravel…
And with every machine hour, and truck-load of material, our landscaping budget has a big chunk taken out of it and accelerating towards the end of the process, the money has been flying out of the account.
I’d even been putting off the full audit because I was scared about what I might find.
But I’m glad to report that, despite some big and unexpected hits, like a broken borehole and spiralling water system costs, the figures just about add up. It’ll be tight, but we should make it … as long as we can welcome guests this summer.
And an opening date? Now it’s in the hands of the architect and the Câmara Municipal de Odemira – the town hall.
Do let us know if you’d like to come and stay.
ALASTAIR LEITHEAD is a former BBC foreign correspondent now living off the grid in rural Alentejo. You can find Ana & Al’s Big Portuguese Wine Adventure wherever you get your podcasts, or sign up here for his wine blog. He’s on Instagram @vale_das_estrelas.
