Settling in by the sea in Manta Rota, Portugal

Zagan the motorhome has made it. He is resting up in an aire on the Portuguese Algarve in the small resort of Manta Rota (N37.16451, W7.52162). For the princely sum of €4.50, we have our own little patch of land, so we can get out our chairs, hang out our washing etc. To our left across a boardwalk is a large sandy beach, and behind us the small resort has a few restaurants and a couple of shops. I can (sort of) see why some folks are clearly here for the winter.

After all the excitement of the students’ New Year in Salamanca, we decided to head south at a bit of a pace, for us. Luckily we opted not to wear our red pirate hats as we drove, or I suspect we wouldn’t have been waved straight through the police roadblock. Carefully set up on the outskirts of the city, they were breathalysing the unsuspecting folks heading home after one huge party. We dropped onto the free motorway, popped an audio book on the CD player and headed south for a few hours.

The rain had been falling for a while, so as we climbed out of the plain that Salamanca sits in, the ground around us turned white with snow. Flakes melted the instant they hit the windscreen, and we reminisced about last winter when we finally got to drive in some proper snow. The rain carried on as we dropped down off the mountains, and the land around us shifted tone to blood red. Fields were either filled with olive trees or regimental rows of trimmed vines, giving them the look of a Christmas ham covered in cloves.

Brrr – crank up the heating!

Reaching the free aire in Zafra (N38.42509, W6.41075 – sorry folks, no photo of the aire) we pulled in and set off for a walk around the town during a short break in the rain. Sadly the break in the rain didn’t last long, and our timing was off, so everything was still shut for lunch – by lunch I mean from 1-5pm. The lack of people coupled with the icy cold rain had us retreating back to the van faster than Charlie can scoff a gravy bone. As we thawed out with a cup of hot chocolate fellow blogger Margaret of Liberte Too and her hubby Nigel popped by to say hello.

Zafra before the rain

Not feeling very festive in the icy rain

It’s always great when we meet folks who have been in touch in the past, because we get to put a face to the name. There were a few other British vans in the aire too as it seems to be a good stopping off place for the route south. Fellow Hymer driver Peter got talking to us at the service point the following morning as we were gearing up to go. He produced a leaflet from the Portuguese Tourist Board specifically for motorhomers heading to the Algarve. I took photos of the pages and a note of the website (www.visitalgarve.pt) as this could come in handy for our search of somewhere to stay for Christmas and New Year.

All too soon we were on the road again. Opting for an easy drive, we took the slightly longer route which kept us on the free motorways, skimming past Sevilla before turning west and making a run for the Portuguese border. Unsure if there would be any big supermarkets near our destination, we did one last Lidl stock up before we left Spain. Zagan’s cupboards chinked with Christmas cheer as we crossed the border. We also cheered, when we realised that our diesel fill up in Spain was also a good plan as the price was a good 15c per litre more in Portugal.

Foreign folks, pull in here and cough up even if you aren’t going to use the toll roads

Things had changed since we were last here five years ago. Back then we arrived just a couple of days after the new electronic toll system had been implemented and no one had a clue how it worked for foreign vehicles. It seems that is now all sorted, as we were filtered to one side of the motorway to input our credit card details so they could automatically charge us for any roads we took. We’re not planning on going on any, so figured it wouldn’t cost us anything. We were wrong. It charged us €0.60 to give them our credit card details!

Toll info signs are helpfully in English – phew!

Not wanting to incur any more charges, we slipped off the motorway and drove the short distance to Manta Rota. We were let through the barrier by the chap who sits in the office here all day. Wondering how they could afford his salary we totted up the number of vans in, there are roughly 50 here at the moment, so they should more than cover his wages, and also earn a nice bit for the town, as well as giving us somewhere nice to stay.

Charlie is one happy pooch on the beach

A honking of horns heralded the local bike club ride through town

Parking up we spotted that everyone was making their patch of land their own, so we put down our Moroccan mat to limit the amount of sand getting into the van and put down the steadies. With a van full of booze, a few bars and restaurants and a supermarket within a five minute walk and free (albeit slightly dodgy) wifi, we might not bother to move for quite a while – bliss.

Just when you think you have seen it all, a motorhome with it’s own garden in the aire. Guess they must be staying a while!

Cooking fish al fresco as the sun sets

Stunning sunset last night

Ju x

Bonus Photo – which was painted first, the motorbike or the wall?