On Saturday we woke early (too early, according to some...) to venture towards the mountains and Sarzedo. It was dark when we left... Recently ´Niki´s Windows´ had been put in, in the house-which-no-longer-looks-like-a-ruin-anymore and Niki was dying to see them ´in situ´. Also, there was a promise of snow in the mountains and the girls were overexcited at the prospect. Just to be sure we had hedged our bets: if the roads were too bad or insurpassable, we would not go up to the Torre, which is the highest point of Portugal (see far below in the early posts) and visible from the Sarzedo house.
As the images below will witness, we did get to the Winter Wonderland, much to the exhilarated happiness of Tess and Yarrow (and Niki, who screamed as loud as anyway when sliding down the slopes on special Tyres). It was freezing cold! A cold neither Tess, Yarrow or myself had felt in a long, long time. For the males among us - and those who´ve had mustaches in the past: remember the feeling when your mustache ices over and your breath freezes onto it. Well, I have no mustache but even the minor stubble on my face transported me to mustachian days and brought that feeling of sticky, icicly cold back on the cold mountain winds.
As the images below will witness, we did get to the Winter Wonderland, much to the exhilarated happiness of Tess and Yarrow (and Niki, who screamed as loud as anyway when sliding down the slopes on special Tyres). It was freezing cold! A cold neither Tess, Yarrow or myself had felt in a long, long time. For the males among us - and those who´ve had mustaches in the past: remember the feeling when your mustache ices over and your breath freezes onto it. Well, I have no mustache but even the minor stubble on my face transported me to mustachian days and brought that feeling of sticky, icicly cold back on the cold mountain winds.
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