A begining: Alcoutim - Balurcos

They say that all good stories need a beginning, a middle and an end.
Well, after 23km today, this story has at least a beginning.
It started rather tenuously, the woman in the tourist office didn't know if this much talked about "Via Algarvia" was ready for action. She made a few calls, and told me that it was supposed to be finished last summer, but wasn't, that they had at least started putting the signposts up. Unfortunately their starting point for the signposts wasn't anywhere along my route. That said, a map and the GPS on my phone was more than enough to stay on track.
And there were many tracks, a choice, all pretty much going through the villages, so no problem if you detoured round and interesting hill or gully.
The hardest part of the day was, funnily enough, the start. It would have been very easy to just leave the hurley in the bag and not bother with the hurling element of my ambition. The big hair and sailing pants was already getting me plenty of funny looks, I didn't especially want to pull a large stick out of my bag and start leathering a ball down the road. But I did. I got some funny looks (not sure how popular hurling is round these parts), but I kept going. After ten or so people passed me by, I had almost forgotten what they were looking at.
And boy was I glad I did, the 10kg pack on my back makes it interesting, but there really isn't anything I'd rather be doing, than hitting a ball down dirt tracks, over rivers, up hills, falling into the odd ditch. Because every now and then the sun will break out, you'll find yourself breathless, chasing a small ball down a red rocky road, almost laughing and not even considering why.
Hopefully that's how most of the middle will be filled, along with the odd flash of different to keep it interesting.
As for the end, I already have it fixed clearly in my head, it ends with me striking a ball off the Fortaleze de San Vicente, the most south westerly point in Europe. I can already see how it will be, I am just interested to see how the middle will make it feel.

Turning up

So, I made it to Alcoutim. One flight, two buses and a train, a 6am start got me here at 7pm.
Woody Allen says ninety percent of life is turning up. Only ten percent to go then.
Looking out the bus window as it crawled up here, it seemed hard to believe that 20km of scrub covered hills in the distance was only the smallest part of what was ahead of me. I suppose that's a reflection on small window through which we can conceive of what we plan to do. All we foresee is a postage stamp size image of what the future might hold. When it becomes the present, it's full on high definition with full surround sound. Daunting. But all is possible when you have a solid plan and you take it one step at a time.
At least the weather here is an improvement on Dublin, a good ten degrees warmer and no sign of rain.
I hadn't booked anywhere to stay, it was dark when I got here and the only Hotel in the town was closed for the winter, but there was a couple of people around, so I managed to find a guest house. I don't think they quite knew what to make of me, I have no Portuguese, far more hair and stubble than is necessary and as I am travelling light, brought my only pair of waterproof long trousers (aquamarine, from a fancy dress costume) and an electric blue rainjacket that I picked up. Imagine Grizzly Adams in a Tron costume.
Scouted out the town, there is a tourist office round the corner and free wifi in the library, so should be able to get myself well sorted out for tomorrow.
The longest step of the journey happens tomorrow. It will be interesting to see how good these tracks are, how the body reacts to the mileage, and what surprises are ahead of me. I was disturbed to see a number of stray dogs wandering around the town, as I have a problem with dogs (or rather, they always seem to have a problem with me). At least if I meet them on the road tomorrow, I will have my hurley in hand and we all know how Chu Chulainn got his name. So if anyone knows the Irish for "man cowering being the wall until the dog stops barking" is, you can tell me when I get back.

Map, moving from right to left

Each of the black dots on the map is a stopping point. For more info, visit this link:

http://www.viaalgarviana.org/ingles/index.html

What I'm up to......

Well, I was thinking over the Christmas that a bit of an adventure might be in order, to shake off the winter cobwebs and work off all the Christmas dinners (I am now approximately 8% turkey).
A long walk, go off on one, a bit of a wander.
Then I thought, I could always bring the hurleys with me, turn it into a poc fada.
Inevivitably, I then thought. Nah. Too much hassle. A step too far, bound to trip itself up.
Knowing that's not how life should be lived, I made the decision, the only way to find out if it was worthwhile, was to do it.
I found there was a nice little walkway ( a bit like the Portuguese version of the Wicklow way) through the Algarve called the "Via Algarviana", its approx 240km, broken down into 14 sections, all landmarked and ready for walking.
At least at the end of all that, I'd know if doing what think you can do is all it is cracked up to be.
With a bit of luck the weather will be with me, I'm expecting about 13 degrees, which is a fine walking temperature.
And who knows, after 6 hours of hitting a ball down a road for 3 weeks, I might even work out how to hit it straight.