When I slipped away from a strictly planned trip.

I parked my car off the road Estrada das Hortas, just next to an access road to the forest, around 2.4 km from Louzanpark. Since the dirt road is unattractive, to an untrained eye, most people drive further to Chiqueiro, Casal Novo or Talasnal. And that means fewer humans, more wild boar. I walk for about twenty minutes on the dirt road that squiggles as if it was contour line of the topographic map but inclines steadily. It’s sunny. The valley makes me think about Redwood National Park, maybe because of the huge tree trunks–for local standards.

Recently I was about to go on a cycling trip, but I had to listen to my spirit--it was too much planning, too much thinking about an itinerary.

My buddy had an idea to go on a three-day-long bicycle trip somewhere nice. Initially I was thrilled—a new experience in a part of Portugal I had never been to with my friends–a whole three of us–nice. But when a fourth person joined, the excitement shifted towards a bad feeling. The whole thing began to remind me of my last tech job, with a daily progress reports and frequent recaps.