Beltane 2024

The heat arrived almost overnight. One day it was cold and raining, the land saturated with water, the next the temperatures soared up into the high twenties, causing an explosion of wild flowers and green in the landscape. Each wave of spring seems more beautiful and more intense than the last. Everywhere is golden yellow, from the broom covered hills to the ground carpeted with wild marigolds. The sea of golden flowers is interspersed with the rich purples and magenta of the vipers bugloss, wild lavender, and vetch flowers, the deep indigo blue of wild lupins - which also come in gold and one species, a subtle pink fading up to white - and all this colour exists on a background of vibrant green. After all the recent rain, the grass grows thick and fast, the oaks and chestnuts suddenly burst into leaf. Spring is the most beautiful season in Portugal and for a while it’s like living in paradise. I think back to the wild flowers that grew in the hedgerows back in Cornwall. There, too, each week would bring a new wave of colour, but behind those beautiful hedgerows the fields were a monoculture of heavily managed or overgrazed grass or crops, devoid of colour or diversity. I don’t recall seeing many meadows of wildflowers in Britain but with all of Portugal’s hectares of abandoned land these flowers have a chance to grow and thrive.

A few months ago my friends, Gabriela and Luís, asked if they could borrow my horses to help clear the 12 hectares of land that they manage at the foot of the Serra da Estrela ahead of fire season. Their two geriatric horses just can’t keep on top of it. Since the property is well fenced, and because I’m struggling to afford to keep my horses on hay all year round here where they have hardly any grazing at all, I agreed. A little break from the daily horse chores would allow me more time in the garden, and some lush grass to fatten the horses up before the summer would do them good. 

On the 14th of April I set out with some friends to walk the horses across the valley to the mountains. Here at last was a chance to get out wandering the landscape with the herd again, something I haven’t done in over a year and miss desperately. It was also a chance to see what travelling with Dimitri would be like. 

I put together a route, turning what would normally be a 20 kilometre one day trip into a 45 kilometre walk broken up with two overnight stops, and a few friends offered to come and help to lead the horses. Departure coincided with the rising temperatures so we waited out the worst of the heat and left late on Sunday afternoon, walking an easy 8 kilometres over to my friend Lorna’s place. Debra and Sarah came to lead the horses. I’d somehow managed to hurt my Achilles tendon the day before we left and almost decided to postpone the trip when, on the morning of the walk, I’d woken up and barely been able to walk, but as the day had gone on, walking had become easier and knowing how hard it would be to reschedule the trip and find enough people to help lead the horses, I’d decided to suck it up and hope for the best. Unable to walk in hiking boots, I was forced to wear wellies as these did not put pressure on my heel. Although they’re my go-to footwear most days, I don’t recommend them for long distance walks in hot weather!

The horses, sensing that they would soon be grazing on lush grass, were eager and excited as we set off, snatching at grass along the verges wherever possible and generally being a little chaotic. I carried Dimitri on my back and led Micheál and Oisín to begin with, but finding Oisín just a little too much of a handful, swapped him for the calmer, less food-orientated Taliesin half way. My heel, though sore, was bearing up well.

We arrived at Lorna’s land, at the foot of Castro de Santiago, a large granite outcrop on the top of a hill. Her land is awash with colourful flowers and has spectacular 360 views up to the Castro, and out over the boulder-strewn hills all the way across to the mountains. Below the land you can see the Muxagata river as it winds through meadows and farmland between tall oaks, ash, and alder trees to join the Mondego River. It was a stunning place to spend the night, camped among the wildflowers while the horses gorged on the lush grass. Sarah, who had only joined us for the day, cooked dinner while Debra and I set up our tents, then we shared a meal before Sarah left to take care of her own animals.

In the morning we breakfasted, packed down our tents and waited for another friend, Gabriela, to arrive. To my immense relief, my heel was feeling much better. The temperatures were rising fast and I decided it would be better all round if Dimitri spent the day with Vlad, rather than on my sweaty back in the blazing sunshine. I was glad of this decision when, fifteen minutes after setting off, we met some stallions in the village. 

The two Lusitanos had been shut onto a tiny terrace right next to the road. On our approach I was looking to see whether the terrace walls were high enough and the ‘gate’ good enough to keep them shut in, and simultaneously trying to check my map to see if we could feasibly avoid having to walk past them without adding a lengthy detour, all the while leading Taliesin and Micheál (yes, I can multitask!). Finding no quick and obvious detour, I decided to hope for the best, reasoning that their enclosure was clearly good enough to keep them confined under normal circumstances so why would they escape now? It didn’t take long for the horses to spot us and, as we drew level, I saw that the terrace walls were low - much too low to stop the horses jumping out into the street - the ‘gate’ was nothing more than a wooden pallet propped up with a stick, and the two stallions were showing far too much interest in my herd to be deterred by either. But it was too late to backtrack. The next best option was to get my horses past as quickly as possible. We had just made it beyond the terrace when one of the stallions crashed through the pallet and came trotting into the road behind my horses just as his companion leapt down the low wall. Knowing the potential for injury this would create for my friends (neither of whom were experienced horse people) with the kicking, bucking, biting and pawing that I knew would ensue, not to mention what might happen if the horses got loose, I shouted for my friends to tie the horses up while I tried to work out what to do. The stallions were eagerly sniffing my horses, who squealed and kicked at them in warning but to no avail. Soon the now very - ahem - ‘excited’ stallions were trying to mount my horses, amid their frantic kicking and bucking. I ran back and grabbed the stick that had been propping up the pallet and, without thought or care for my own safety, my sole aim now to protect my herd, I tried to fend the stallions off, but it was no use, there were two of them and one of me and they were much too excited to care about one little human with a stick. Barely aware of what I was thinking and acting on instinct, I quickly untied Micheál and ushered him into the road, hoping that he would take the two stallions away from my horses and buy me some time to work out the next move.

Micheál is by far the most sociable member of my herd when it comes to strange equines and he’s also more than capable of looking after himself in most situations. He’s smart and doesn’t tend to panic in a crisis, he’s also small and wasn’t carrying anything so using him as a decoy made sense. He ran merrily into the road and to my immense relief both stallions trotted up to him and followed him as he set off down the road away from his friends. 

Although the immediate threat to my horses had abated, I now had to work out what to do with two loose stallions who were disappearing off down the road after my mule!

Locals were starting to appear to find out what all the commotion was about and Gabriela, whose Portuguese is fluent, explained what was happening and people began trying to get hold of the owner of the stallions. 

I pulled my phone out of my bumbag and rang Lorna, whom we’d just left. She’s an equine physio and her boyfriend, Tom, is a hoof trimmer. More horsey people on the scene to help could only be a good thing. I then set off after the trio of vanishing equines, trying to come up with a plan. The trouble was that, while Micheál was doing a grand job of getting the two horses away from my herd, he was moving fast and heading out of the village in the direction of a busy main road. At what point would he turn back to rejoin his friends? Would he even? Just how far would he go? You never know with the mule! He’d bought me some time, but I needed to sort this out and fast. I hoped my friends would get here soon so we could head the mule off before he went too far.

Suddenly Micheál turned up a cobbled driveway beside the road and was leading the stallions around the well-tended camellia bushes on the gravelled front garden. When they came back onto the road after their tour of the garden I was pretty certain Micheál would head back towards his herd, new friends in tow and that was the last thing I wanted. Looking around, I saw a big field to the left which, unusually for Portugal, was fully fenced in sheep netting. If I could just get the stallions in there, we’d be fine, I thought. Feeling hopeful I opened the gate, just as the trio came back out of the driveway. I blocked Micheál’s path and by some miracle he allowed me to pick up the end of his trailing rope. By now Gabriela had come to see if she could help while Debra stayed with my horses. She blocked the road and herded the stallions behind Micheál and into the field, then shut the gate behind us I slipped him back out. Phew! It was then that I noticed that one of the stallions was missing an eye on one side, and his remaining eye looked infected. I almost felt bad for trying to beat him off Dakota with stick…almost! 

With Micheál in tow, we returned to my horses who, now the immediate threat of being mounted by randy stallions had abated, were standing calmly where they’d been tied looking none the worse for the experience. Just then Tom arrived on his motorbike, and Lorna arrived a few minutes later. We decided the best thing to do would be to get out of the village as soon as possible. Leaving Tom and Lorna to deal with the locals and to keep an eye on the stallions to make sure they didn’t try to escape again, we set off down a track which led us over the river and wound off into the hills towards the Santuário de Nossa Senhora dos Milagres. I showered Micheál with praise for selflessly protecting his herd, omitting to tell him that I’d basically decided to sacrifice him for the sake of the others, and, clearly feeling pleased with himself, he strode out at the head of the group, leading the way.

We stopped for a rest, a drink, and a snack by the Santuário, then set off following dirt roads across the hills in the direction of Celorico da Beira. The landscape here was wild and the bouldered hills were covered in broom and wild lavender. Below us to the right the A25 buzzed with traffic while we picked our quiet way along the well-worn track which soon gave way to a much less used, overgrown trail that brought us down into the village of Barco where we picked up a tarmac road which led us under the railway, under the motorway, and over the river Mondego up onto the N16. 

Hot and sweaty, we decided to take a quick detour down to the river where my friends stripped off and jumped in for a refreshing dip in the cold water. It was much too cold to tempt me so I settled for wetting my t-shirt instead and within half an hour it was dry again.

From Vila Boa do Mondego we wandered along a paved narrow road which eventually petered out into a sandy dirt road that wound through a charming little valley between low hills covered in thick clusters of oak trees until eventually we began a steep climb up into the village of Porteira. Here a conveniently placed fountain provided the horses with a much-welcomed drink before we continued on towards the N17. 

I’d recce’d the route a few days earlier because the N17 is a very busy road with speeding lorries and I’d needed to find a place where we could cross straight over without having to risk our lives walking along it for any distance. I’d found what looked to be the perfect spot, but the tracks had looked pretty disused and potentially overgrown and I’d not been able to check them properly. It was a bit of a gamble but luckily it paid off and saved us a few kilometres, too. One final long, steep, breath-robbing climb followed by a gentle descent and we reached our destination: Quinta da Gil, a beautiful quinta perched on the side of the mountains with stunning views across the valleys back the way we’d come. Our hosts Alex and Saskia, a lovely Belgian couple, had made a nice paddock for the horses, separate from their own three ponies, right next to the yurt where we were to spend the night. Unfortunately it was just a little bit too small for my lot so, after tying the horses up to cool off, I set about expanding the paddock with Alex, marvelling at the fact that after a long day’s walk and despite feeling exhausted, I can still find some reserves of energy for setting up fences. This is one of those things about travelling with horses: you spend all day on the move which is in itself exhausting but your work really begins at the end of the day when you have to tend to the horses’ needs, fetching feed and water, setting up fences, untacking, making camp, cooking etc. A day spent walking or riding is usually the easy part! Luckily for us, we didn’t have to make camp; the yurt was made up for us with comfortable beds, there was fresh, cool water to quench our thirst, and an amazing outdoor shower nestled amongst some boulders with solar-heated water at our disposal and best of all, a delicious hot meal cooked for us by our hosts! 

Vlad and Dimitri arrived just in time for dinner and when we’d eaten our fill, we went to bed.

The next morning, we were joined by another friend, Debs, for the last day’s walk.

With 20 kilometres to cover, we were on the road before 10am, following dirt tracks along the side of the mountain to Salgueirais. One sunken track ran beside a field where two donkeys came running over braying loudly and following us along the fence-line. Wary from the previous day’s dramas, humans and horses were all on edge and on the narrow track Taliesin managed to force Debs down a low bank and she twisted her ankle. Luckily Debs was able to walk and said she’d continue at least until lunch time. I felt quite helpless with Dimitri on my back, unable to move or react as I normally would, my main focus having to be on Dimitri and his well being rather than on the horses, and I was worried that any sudden movements would jolt him too hard or snap his head back too quickly, or if a horse barged me and I fell that I could end up hurting him. This level of caution is not something I’m accustomed to when it comes to my horses and the feeling was very uncomfortable. 

We stopped in Salgueirais to water the horses at a fountain and for me to give Dimitri a feed before setting off along a nearly deserted tarmacked road which ran along the side of the mountain below Linhares. After a few kilometres we turned off the road onto a dirt road which brought us up in Figueiró da Serra where we found a shady place to tie up the horses while we had a break for lunch. 

Vlad came to take Dimitri, who had enjoyed his morning’s adventure with the horses but was getting tired of being confined to a carrier on my back, and Debs, whose ankle was still hurting, said she’d hitch a lift with him back to her car. The rest of the day was uneventful as we followed tarmacked roads along the side of the mountain to Melo. Eventually we arrived hot, sticky, and tired at Lugar da Pedra Alta where we untacked the horses and turned them loose on the acres that would be their home for the coming months. They stretched and rolled and quickly set about grazing. We humans showered, drank copious amounts of water, and sat around chatting, grateful to be off our aching feet. Vlad and Dimitri arrived then we all headed up the road for dinner at the best pizza place in the area before driving back across the valley to tumble gratefully into bed.

The next morning I woke up bursting with energy and raring to go. All the aches and pains of the previous day had vanished and I felt like I could walk another 20 kilometres! Travelling with the horses had felt so good, so natural. Reflecting on the journey I was amazed at how easily I had slipped back into my travel mindset, how quickly my perception of time changed, everything slowing down and those two and a half days had felt like weeks - in the best possible way! I was happy to discover that I still have my stamina, the ability to just keep on going, pushing through the heat, the sweat, the aches and pains, and the tiredness, and relieved to find that sore muscles and the beginnings of blisters at the end of the day still vanish miraculously overnight and I wake full of energy and ready to go all over again. I loved being able to eat all the carb-heavy foods I would normally avoid because they make me feel bloated and sluggish in the quantities I want (read: enormous). On the road I really thrive. 

As well as reconnecting to old mindsets, old ways of being I was worried I’d lost, the journey felt like a reconnection to my body. For more than 18 months I’ve felt a huge disconnect from my body: it has not felt like my own. While pregnant I had an overwhelming sense of being hijacked by a creature who took over my body and used it for its own ends, sapping all my energy, rearranging my internal organs, stretching my belly, and changing my body in ways I’d never wanted it to be changed, until it eventually he emerged causing all sorts of chaos along the way and then once out, continued to use my body as his sole source of nutrition, comfort, and safety. Of course I love Dimitri; he’s utterly amazing really, and my body has done an incredible thing in growing him from a cluster of cells into a whole other human. But the point is that for a LOOOOOONG time I’ve shared my body, sacrificed it to meet Dimitri’s needs, and had it used in strange new ways to support the little being that it created; my world has been upended, my life changed by his arrival in multiple ways, and sometimes, just sometimes, I’ve wondered what it would be like to be myself again, doing something for me, something I enjoy. Walking with the horses for a few days, using my body as the amazing instrument it is, moving freely, pushing it until it ached, resting it so it healed, touching back in with my childhood dreams...that felt like an amazing reconnection with my old self and that was a thoroughly wonderful thing.

Once back on the land, the hard mindset I slipped into so easily on the road, the determined ‘get it done no matter what’ takes a while to fade and I’m harder, blunter, more single-minded and prickly than I normally am in my day-to-day life. This attitude works on the road, it gets us to where we need to be each day, safely and in one piece, getting us through no matter what the road throws at us, but it’s far too abrasive for normal existence. The garden helps me to slow down and soften again. There isn’t only one goal here, one destination to reach against all the odds, there are little inter-connected things. Subtlety and gentleness are key here. 

Now suddenly time to plant everything out into the garden beds. I move mulch, dig over beds, pull weeds and lay down the drip lines and slowly begin planting out my seedlings. Tomatoes, courgettes, and squash get planted out although we’re still not beyond the risk of frost. Potatoes are planted along with chickpeas and flax, herbs are sown and my broad beans suddenly are covered in long green pods. I try to eat some every day and start looking for creative ways to preserve them for the coming year because, after last year’s pathetic harvest, I planted them in several places and they all thrived. 

I spot, and promptly eat, the first few peas of the year, too. Elderflowers appear and I harvest them to dry for tea, and as more appear I begin making elderflower cordial. This year I also gather some of the roses that grow on the edge of one of the terrace walls and I make cordial with them, too, drying others for tea along with foraged mallow flowers and wild lavender. I take regular cuttings of mint, lemon balm, nettles, sage, fennel and lemon verbena to dry for tea as well, thyme and sage for the kitchen, and calendula flowers for making healing salves. This year I’m determined to use more herbs in everything, making the most of the beautiful abundance that the land offers up.

The season is really starting to pick up in the garden. There’s so much work to be done!