Trip Report: Overnight from Lisbon to Sesimbra

Cycling from Lisbon without maps or bikes or any fixed plans, first time riding on European roads with no useful Portuguese to speak of… it seems a little daunting, even in the doorway of Didier’s bike shop in down town Lisbon. But he welcomes us in, sizes us up and pulls out maps to illustrate the options for us – our hesitant plan of cycling down into the Sebutal coast is just one possibility and other routes a short train ride north of the city could also be done easily in a day or two.

Didier pulls together a plan, with a couple of distance options and outlines the route we can follow, reassures us we won’t need to book accommodation ahead and points out a couple of places we can catch trains back from in the morning.

Across the mouth of the Rio Tejo by ferry and our adventure has officially started. We soon leave the village at the tip of Caparica coast, and it’s just us, forests, the occasional military installment to our left and glimpse of the sea to our right. We turn off onto a forest track just before midday and struggle to control bikes or pick up any speed in thick piles of soft sand. We soon catch up with a solo driver whose shiny car doesn’t seem to suit the terrain any better than our bikes. The driver is taking photos and stops every few metres. At one point we pass him, but he catches up, rolls down his window and asks us where we are heading.

Justin pulls out a map and points to a road that this one should meet up with. The driver is silver-haired and speaks enough English to tell Justin that he is the caretaker of the forest and is taking photos, watching for fire risks and noting repairs on behalf of the owner.

He shakes his head at the direction we’re trying to take, gestures for us to follow him, opens a gate and points to the road perpendicular to this one. This strange apparition watches us pedal away before driving through in his car and shutting the gate behind himself.

Our new path is still sandy but slightly more firm and shaded by saplings. We’ve got the companionship of dragonflies, butterflies and random large flying beetles. About 15 minutes later we remember Didier’s words of advice. Not only did he say we would meet people on the track who would tell us we weren’t going the right way, but if this did happen, no matter what, we shouldn’t follow their directions. This quiet forest seems slightly more menacing.

After what seems a long time in the scorching heat of an autumn afternoon, we emerge onto something which looks more like a real road. There is tarmac, a few buildings, then at the crest of a hill, an industrial sized barn with a group of people sitting outside, facing this enormous helicopter pad. A small lake can be seen far below. We’re not sure exactly where we’ve ended up, so we approach the people sitting outside this barn facing an empty helicopter pad in the middle of nowhere. We offer our map and ‘lost’ but don’t get much compassion or interest back, so the only option is to head down this hill towards the lake and cross our fingers.

We find our bearings again and then find a roadside cafe for lunch of toasted sandwiches and cokes. It isn’t long before we see the castle above our goal for the evening, Lisbon’s seaside resort - Sesimbra. Although our goal of an afternoon swim is tantalisingly close, the sign towards the scenic route into town beckons. Not withstanding the final climb and a few fierce guard dogs the traffic free ride down into the harbour is almost reward enough.

Our bikes are stowed at our basic (and fairly grim) accommodation and we manage a dip in the sea and half an hour baking on the near empty beach before finding fresh fish for dinner at a lively local restaurant.

With concrete block holiday resorts and hotels crowding the sea front, Sesimbra isn’t as pretty as nearby Lisbon, but it does have an almost festival atmosphere, with crowds of people taking a late night stroll along the waterfront and sitting outside bars late into the evening.

The next day’s climb starts later than we should have because of confusion over breakfast. After what seems like 30 minutes steep climbing we start coasting downhill and hit the main road which is busy with trucks, cars and bigger trucks going the other way. Its hot work, smoggy and not particularly fun. Around 15 km later we eventually hit Fogueteiro, the nearest town where we can catch a train back to Lisbon.

Cycling through Lisbon, downhill all the way, is exhilarating, even if we’ve only got a basic tourist map and little sense of direction. Bikes are returned to the restaurant next door to Bike Iberia, as it’s a Sunday and Didier had other plans. We grab a beer and watch sardine grillers go about their business before catching the train up to Sintra sans bicycles. Cycling mission accomplished.