Any Port(ugal) in a Storm

Leaving the Galician coast I cut across to the impressive Garganta de Cil and followed a narrow road winding its way high above the swirling waters. Eventually I picked up the motorway to head swiftly east and arrive at Sanambria just north of the border. A site that claimed to be open 'todo el anno' was unsurprisingly shut so I tucked away in a lakeside picnic area as it was getting a bit dark to be moving on. Breakfast after a peaceful night was interrupted by the arrival of first one and then a second police car - apparently the area was a national park and camping not permitted. I pointed out my 2013 guide listing the supposedly open site and confirmed I would be moving on soon which seemed OK and after taking my personal and vehicle details off they went. An hour later I spotted them in the local town and received a friendly wave so all was well.
Crossing in to Portugal on a minor road in to the Montesinho National Park subtle changes rapidly became apparent - smaller villages with narrow cobbled streets, mostly traditional stone cottages, donkeys standing patiently with carts and even more obscure shops and businesses tucked away unsigned behind door curtains. Braganca's mighty castle and walled old town provided interest whilst in the empty church excitement was provided by a large candle in the nativity scene which had toppled over and was in danger of setting the whole place on fire - disaster was swiftly averted!
The upper reaches of the Douro form part of the 'port' producing vineyards with small terraces of vines clinging to the granite strewn countryside but very little in the way of dwellings or populace. A good vantage point at Lagacoa looked across the Douro in to Spain whilst Castelo Rodrigo provided another walled old town of considerable character and the star fort at Almeida a defensive structure of considerable size before I passed a quiet night tucked away in an old loop of the recently straightened  road. 
Heading towards the Serra Da Estrela a smartly dressed guy was hitching a lift so I stopped - he had missed the only bus that day to Guarda which was on my way so a rather stilted conversation about football ensued - my knowledge of Portugese exceeds my knowledge of football so it was something of a non starter.
Outside Manteigas a site looked closed but the girl in the adjacent ski slope's reception seemed happy to open it up and I took off in to the mountains reaching the summit of Torre (Portugal's highest mountain) at just under 6000' with plenty of snow and a thick mist. Dropping down the remarkable glacial Zezere Valley I returned to the site where the power but not the hot water was on - and even then  the power was only sufficient to run the fridge and lights as switching on the kettle or fire tripped the fuses : hey ho!
An unsettled day dawned making further exploration of the mountains pointless so I headed out on a circuit to explore a succession of old walled villages with a variety of castles, forts, keeps and churches : Belmonte, Sortelha, Sabugal and Penamacor arriving finally at Monsanto. Here on a wild night I tucked away in a small car park as the heavens opened in the heaviest rain of the trip so far.
The following morning roof tiles were on the ground and branches down as I headed south east at one point rounding a bend to meet an HGV lying on its side with its pallets spilling out of the curtain sides. The driver was OK and on his phone so there seemed little point in stopping lest football became the topic once more and I continued cautiously across the Beira Baixa landscape of olive trees, granite boulders and some pasture where sheep and cattle had their backs turned to the surprisingly strong wind. In many cases shepherds were tucked in to boulders or walls as here they still follow their flocks during the day - a lonely and tough occupation at this time of year.
Briefly re entering Spain I stopped for lunch by the large graceful bridge across the Tajo before picking up the return route in to Portugal's Ribatejo Alto and a familiar route in to Marvao.
I last visited 4 years ago and was pleased to see that Camping Asseiceira was as unspoilt as ever tucked away in the quiet countryside of olive groves and tiny farms. Gary explained that the stormy weather had been affecting most of central Portugal but was due to abate soon and I was soon pitched up with 4 other campervans - the first I have seen since leaving the Picos, apart from, bizarrely, two ladies from Carmarthen parked up in Belmonte and heading for the Dordogne.
The power was out locally but the excellent new facilities block still had plenty of hot water from its solar array and after a couple of hours the lights also flickered back in to life and all was well. It would be very tempting to stay here for a few weeks as the site, host and surroundings are all excellent and indeed I plan to return this way after Morocco as it would be good to do the Estrela properly, take a nose at the Peneda - Geres NP and then cross the Cantabrian ranges for another dip in the Picos.
However for now it's chill time - a few tweaks to the bike, a service of the genny, some online research and imminently a social gathering in Gary's cosy house on a slightly damp but mild and overcast day.
I became aware of the startling variety of doorways in the old villages so apologies if they rather dominate the pictures to be found by clicking here but no such quirks affect the eye in the sky found by  clicking here.
Onward plans include a return to the unspoilt Atlantic south west coast of Portugal for a few days wild camping before a whiz east via Seville to Gibraltar to book my ferry and possibly a diversion to Salobrena if time permits.
Snow bound Wales seems a long way away but surprisingly my trip as far as it is planned is already one third completed - ooeerrr.