Friday, February 6th – Words/Pictures : Messines – Silves

I had the early start I promised myself, awakening in Ti Raquels, a place that would not have to splash out an awful lot on furnishings if it ever wanted to convert itself into a roadside knocking shop. But warmth and food is all I was looking for and both were in good supply.
The early start did not do me much good; I spent two hours trying to make my way through Messiness, with a 30km trek ahead, it wasn’t what I needed.
Once out on the road, it broke into the mountains, round a mud brown lake. I decided to solo run the first 5k at a light jog to try and make up lost time. Almost all of it was on a ten meter wide path, which was unnaturally formed above a fifty meter drop into the lake. I thought it looked like a miniature grand canyon, filled with mud, but I’ve never been to the grand canyon, so I wouldn’t take my word for it.
Once past the lakes, I crossed a large dam, which brought me back up into the mountains. After a lot of steep climbs, I was once again overlooking a sea of mountains. The clouds above and the resultant intermittent rain drew rainbows over different hills, each hill taking its turns to colour itself into full illumination.
I was eager to move on and skipped through many ups and downs, with good tracks and not a soul in sight, the next few hours were tiring, but as much fun as I have had. As I came down into the valleys, I knew I was asking more of my body than it would gladly give, but that being part of the exercise, I will not complain.
In the foothills, late in the day, as the darkness approached (once again, not the band), I could do nothing but increase the pace, as I didn’t want a repeat of the previous day's unlit finish. When the sun did disappear, I could see the well lit castle of Silves on the hill ahead of me.
This was fine day, beautiful images that I will always have with me. Some people have asked for photos and I have taken some along the way. But I have done my best to describe how feels, rather than how it looks.
They say that a picture is worth a thousand words. The truth in that is pictures draw a sketch which we colour in with a thousand of our own words, with what we already know. There will come a time when we are all gone, and everyone that ever knew us is gone. At that point, one single page of our own words will describe us more than every photograph we take and every photograph that was ever taken of us. Good to get some words down.