Yesterday morning, with the Portuguese border sitting ahead, we hammered onward over hills and down valleys as fast as we could. The riding was hard, constant 100-200 meter climbs in the sun, and as the afternoon wore on, the sun only beat down on us more directly as we pedaled west. Sunglasses weren’t enough, we had to look down at the road it was so bright.

By 8:00 p.m., we were in Valverde del Fresno, the last town in Spain. From here, the mile markers counted down from 17, and we were all alone on this road leading from a small town in Spain to a smaller town in Portugal. This really was a no-man’s-land, just a few olive trees and crumbling 1000-year old towers on distant hills in both countries looking down on our progress, reminders of when crossing the border was more dangerous, but not less difficult.

The anticipation built during this last hour as the kilometers whittled away. We were expecting a hilltop crossing, since we rode beside a ridge from Valverde, but instead the road dipped down with two kilometers to go and continued downhill past 1 km. Finally, at the dry creek bed of Rio Torto, there was the border, with long-abandoned customs houses as we’ve seen across the EU countries. We stopped at the Portugal sign. Susana was happy.

Just inside the border, at the appropriately named Senhora do Bom Sucesso, we found the campground where we collapsed immediately upon arrival. It was our longest day with 148 km (92 miles), and 2200 meters (7217’) of climbing, our second highest of the trip.

Since our arrival, Susana has been talking to everyone about anything at all in her mother tongue. It rained here recently? In August? Oh, August four years ago, wow.

And suddenly everything is nicer.