set off to find coffee and explore - and
found NATA!
I ordered two for everybody to
share, then yielded into gluttony and
bought two more just for myself. My
visit to Portugal was now complete
– castles, palaces, Port and nata! We
filled our gas tanks and headed back
into the hills, bound for Spain.
Well, that did not work so well. In
empty country several kilometres
outside of Moncorvo, Leslie and I
discovered One of Our Number was
no longer behind us. I left her by the
side of the road where Brian was sure
to find her when he discovered we
were no longer behind him and went
back to discover what might be the
problem.
Long story short, despite pre-ride
warnings and six days of successful
fill-ups, One of Our Number had
filled his tank with diesel rather than
gasoline. His engine was complete-
ly fouled. I rode back to the petrol
station to see if I could find anybody
who could speak English and could
help, while Brian tried to raise the
motorcycle rental agency to get either
a truck to come from Madrid to pick
up the dead BMW or authorise some
unknown local mechanic to see if he
could fix it. The rest groused about
having planes to catch in Madrid in
two days.
The Gods of Chance smiled upon
us. A fellow lounging about the
petrol station spoke passable English,
and the petrol station owner’s son
was a mechanic who also raced mo-
torcycles. Somehow Brian convinced
the rental company to allow him to
try his hand at repairing the BMW.
Problem was, we had to get the bike
to a shop outside of town and wait
until his shift was over at work.
Luckily, the shop was just off our road
back toward Moncorvo, and it was all
downhill.
Once the bike was delivered to the
shop, much debate followed as to
“what next.” To his credit, One of Our
TRAVERSE 84
Number was extremely apologetic,
and insisted that Brian lead us and we
go ahead, and he would follow by one
means or another once the engine
problem was resolved, or not. All of
us were reluctant to do that, but it
was pretty much a straight shot on
the only main road through the south
end of the Parque Natural do Douro
Internacional to Cuidad Rodrigo.
Ultimately, we decided that seemed
the only practical course. Four of
us took off, and I texted back to One
of Our Number several times when
there was anything about the route
that might cause confusion, and to
see how he was progressing.
Cuidad Rodrigo is an ancient
fortress, yet another UWHS, a small
cathedral city of less than 15,000
people on a site originally occupied
by a Celtic people since thousands of
years BC. We rode across the bridge
over the River Agueda under high
stone walls originally built in the 12th
century, once breached by Welling-