The plan was ambitious: cycle the whole length of Portugal’s coast, from the Spanish border in the north to Faro in the south. Then I arrived in Porto to find my bike had made it but my checked bag hadn’t, and that bag held not only my clothes and toiletries but also my pedals. Three days of waiting later, there was no longer time to ride the whole coast, so I moved the start line to Porto, booked a flight home from Lisbon and rode as much of Portugal’s Atlantic coast as I could. The lesson, which I learnt the hard way: always pack your bike parts in the same box as your bike.

It was early spring and the sun shone the whole way, if with a chill at times. Much of the coast was in hibernation, with restaurants, cafés, shops and even apartments shut for winter, and I often felt as though the rapture had happened and I hadn’t made the cut. It gave the towns an authentic, uncrowded feel, with empty roads and car parks. After a stretch of truck-heavy main roads, a local host told me about a 40 mile dedicated cycle route, and it turned out to be as good as any I’ve ever ridden, with smooth tarmac winding through forests, cliff tops and remote beach villages, and barely 20 vehicles all day. Much of the route follows EuroVelo 1, and nothing prepares you for the waves at Nazaré: no words or videos do justice to their size, or to the skill and bravery of the surfers who ride them.

I stayed in hostels, hotels and Airbnbs rather than camping, and slowed to a more relaxed pace than the original plan so I could actually see where I was. It was my first trip to Portugal, and Portugal isn’t going anywhere, so I’ll be back to finish the job.