Arty Alte. The Hinterland at last.

Chief Worrier @walshamboy had been angling for a trip to the Hinterland even before we left Blighty. The Hinterland. A region that heads up above the developed coastal strip into the impressive Serra do Caldeirao  that reach to nearly 1000 metres. Which poses some problems. Firstly July sees temperatures hovering just under the 40C mark.

Which for Commander in Chief means one thing. Hot Head.

Titular Head in the other hand does not do edges,  And heading up into the Hinterland would entail lots of edges. And other people not so so shy of the oblivion of edges hurtling towards Titular Head further entrenching his white knuckled terror. And the ever present spectre of the A2 and it's lesser cousin the A22 which were the littoral of this promised Nirvana. Pleased to get on to the ridge and the N124.

Alte. First port of call. Built around  a watercourse and Fonte (fountain/springs). This gorge bisects the village. Spectacular colour and smell of the Portuguese version of the Maquis.

The village is named after it's watercourse  the River Alte. Which Titular Head was most excited to see contained these Portuguese barbel variants:

Along with a viperous on-looker.

Entranced by water..

Known perhaps more for it's one time poet in residence  Candido Guerreiro the village is a magnet for those of artistic bent.

Essex Scribbler may like some of the street art (more of which another day) which is a bit more considered than the Jaywick oeuvre.

And Alte even has a roadside restaurant that met the approval of Commander in Chief. And even here, high up from the coast fresh Atlantic fish were the order of the day. I enjoyed five lovely Scad and the comedy head, bones and tail left overs.

Nice, but not Sagres. This is the dominant Brazilian Super Bock which is probably Fosters level

Loule beckons, even if only Hot Head briefly.