A friend of mine in Sydney suggested I try the Bacalhau or Cod fish as most know it by and have it with a white wine, so I did. I firstly tried the whole fish with vegetables which I found delightful. 

Last night it was in its flaky form mixed into rice with oil and herbs. I did not find this so good maybe because I like to choose what to mix it with myself and there was no chance to taste it on its own. Our host told me, in order to support the dish, that it was a traditional dish.

There are over 1,000 ways to serve Bacalhau and its history goes back to the 14th century where it was staple food for the sailors on their great sea explorations, where the dry salted cod could be kept for years. It is also a fish low in oil allowing the salt to be absorbed into it. Strangely, it is not native to Portugal and supplies had to be fished from the dangerous waters of Newfoundland. 

After our stay at this Quinta (which is a rural property or a manor of historical significance) where we ate with a German walker, the two Dutch women and an older couple from Belgium, we dressed for the wet. Our host told us it would rain on and off all day and that’s what it did, after filling up all the potholes overnight. 

Nearly the whole walk was on cobble stones which is okay for a while but then requires more and more concentration, and where our poles find it difficult to get a regular push off. One of our prettiest walks so far as we poled uphill for some time past small olive groves and grape vines growing on upside down l-shaped structures. 

Most of these farms were small, and the villages quite well off as there were many larger pristine houses with immaculate lawns and gardens. We passed many villages on our uphill walk and similar on a more gentle slope for a long way down. A Swiss man overtook us but held back to chat a little about walking adventures, especially our Swiss one. A Polish family chatted a little in a cafe that saved us from a sudden drenching. 

On our way down, a Portuguese man with his dog loped by but not before telling us it was hard to accommodate the dog, so he carried a tent just in case. A mixture of the original square shaped cobbles and odd shaped rocks carried us into our new home in Portugal’s oldest town, Ponte de Lima. They had also carried our newish and not too old Dutch friends to our home tonight close to the large river – Lima.