Dust-dry, the earth crumbles between your fingers. Even now in autumn, in the shade of the gnarled cork oak, you can feel the glow of the sun. It could be Africa. It is Portugal. The rolling hills stretch to the horizon, covered in yellowish grass; a sea of steppe in all shades of dryness. In between, dark patches: lonely olive trees, small forests of cork oaks, rocks scattered on the slopes as if by giants. The vastness and silence are breathtaking. The Portuguese call this landscape Alentejo; "beyond the Tagus" it stretches all the way to Spain and the equally hot provinces of Extremadura and Andalusia. It has always been one of the poorest, loneliest and driest corners of Europe; there was little sign of water.
But one structure changed everything: in 2002, the large Alqueva dam was completed, putting a concrete barrier in front of the region's only significant river, the south-flowing Rio Guadiana. Two years later, the Grande Lago d'Alqueva was created to the north of its wall.
Europe's largest reservoir with a length of 83 kilometres and an area of 250 km2 - a sea in the middle of the desert. The main aims of the ambitious project of the century were to generate electricity and create an almost inexhaustible supply of water for periods of drought.
Incidentally, this has also created a boating area that is unrivalled in Europe. Reason enough for the charter specialists at Nicols to include the Grande Lago d'Alqueva in their range of services. A charter base was set up in cooperation with Amieira Marina, the only modern marina on the lake to date. A small fleet of white houseboats of various Nicols types is now available there all year round for adventurous crews.
When we arrive late in Amieira in the hire car from Lisbon, base manager Joana is already waiting for us. This makes check-in all the quicker and completely uncomplicated. For example, the charter is licence-free - and not only that: there is simply nothing in Portugal that even remotely resembles inland waterway regulations. Joana shrugs her shoulders: "No wonder. Until recently, there was no lake of this size in the whole country," she explains in English.
On board our cosy Nicols Duo, we then get the technical briefing. Batteries, colour chart plotter, even a forward-looking echo sounder with screen is on board! For mooring on the shore, is the explanation. Because there are not yet jetties everywhere. Anchoring, on the other hand, is taboo on the lake - "the line can
too easily get caught in a tree on the bottom," explains
Joana.
A little later, we sit in the stern with a bottle of fresh red wine (the Alentejo is also known as the "California of Portugal"). Until the stars rise over the quiet harbour, we look at the map that Joana has provided with tips and notes and read about the "white towns" we want to visit tomorrow in the travel guide.
Alqueva: new and old walls
A gentle south-easterly breeze blows as we cast off the lines and set off on the Rio Degebe, already part of the lake at this point, towards our first destination: the dam. Silence lies over the hills on either side, withered, hard grass glowing in the sun, and the wide strip of grey, cracked clay on the shore betrays the lowered water level.
The summer has taken its toll on the lake. Every now and then, bright white walls appear between the hills; farms that belong to a latifúndio, the large estate that is still widespread here. Goats and horses seek shade. A majestic eucalyptus tree spreads its heavy branches over the water; its old companion has not been so lucky: ten metres further on, it protrudes from the lake as a faded skeleton.
At the "mouth" of the Degebe into the Rio Guadiana, islands block the way; they are not shown on the map. A consequence of the drought? We keep exactly to the red and white round buoys of the fairway. Incidentally, the sea marks are the only navigation aid in the area: clearly visible, numbered and labelled with the abbreviation of the respective tributary, they guide us safely to our destination. But with the chart plotter on board, it would be
it would be quite a feat to get lost anyway ...
The mighty dam stretches in a wide semicircle across the southern end of the valley. Yellow buoys demarcate the danger zone and we drive to a shallow bay a little to the east and take the boat alongside the tiny wooden jetty. Although the small, modern facility in the bay to the north is almost empty, it is reserved for permanent residents and is locked. But it also works like this. Engine off, silence.
We quickly pack our picnic rucksack before heading to the dam. The gigantic arch with its
technology consisting of turbines, transformer stations, barrier gates and futuristic architecture looks like a spaceship in a rural wasteland, or better still, like a time machine: on one side are the present and future with the deep blue of the lake and the high-voltage pylons leading over the mountains, while on the other the view goes deep down into the past to the Guadiana as it once looked: It leisurely follows its rocky canyon southwards, towards the sea.
Exciting contrasts! Although the hydroelectric power station in the dam is bursting with kilowatt hours, there is no electricity or water at our jetty - just like at all the other moorings. However, this is set to change in the near future. Fortunately, we are self-sufficient. The only disadvantage is that we have to fire up the diesel now and again to recharge the consumer battery.
In the evening, we get the two-person kayak ready and paddle to one of the tiny islands at the entrance to the bay. We make a surprising discovery on the round knoll: half overgrown by a thorn bush, we find an old hand-turned farmer's chair and a small wooden flute next to it. Perhaps a shepherd used to sit here and watch his sheep on the slopes? A beautiful place - but now more for fishing.
In a few years' time, divers will also be able to enjoy the Grande Lago. Deep beneath the keel lies thousands of years of submerged history: The lake has buried stone circles, castles and entire villages. One village was even demolished and rebuilt in a safe place - Luz, whose white chimneys can be seen the next morning after a short journey to starboard.
chimneys light up in the sunlight on the starboard side the next morning after a short journey. We also want to visit this place, but on the way back.
Mourão: Defence-oriented towards Spain
The wind has picked up. Short and choppy, it slaps against the bow of our duo. We continue northwards until we reach the bay of Mourão and moor again at a wooden jetty of the same design. A colourful collection of boats nods cheerfully to the beat of the waves at red buoys. Wooden fishing boats, aluminium barges
aluminium barges and a modern day cruiser. An old country road now leads straight into the water and is used as a slipway. Drivers unfamiliar with the area are warned of the wet "dead end" by signs.
We cycle the short kilometre to Mourão. It quickly becomes apparent that this sleepy town is more for individual tourists. We search in vain for shops or restaurants, and the few cafés we come across don't seem to be open at this early hour. Fortunately, we followed the advice that was included with our booking documents: do your shopping beforehand!
From the whitewashed church, we follow a modest Way of the Cross up to the Moorish fortress. Lizards scurry over the crumbling stonework. The view sweeps far across the landscape to the east and into the country that the high battlements were once intended to protect against: Spain. In the other direction lies the
and behind it, on the highest mountain in the area, sits the most beautiful of the white towns, Monsaraz.
The Grande Lago d'Alequeva is actually navigable up to its northern end near the small town of Juromenha - around 80 kilometres from the dam. And despite the low water level, Joana had assured us that the waterway along the buoys would be deep enough. However, that would be another 40 kilometres from our current location, and the wind is blowing surprisingly cool and fresh from the north - a harbinger of winter? We therefore decide against Juromenha with a heavy heart
and prefer to stay in the southern half of the lake for a few more days.
Heading north-west from our mooring in Mourão, we quickly reached the new bridge over which the motorway from Lisbon to Badajoz runs. It is the only one in the entire course of the lake and perhaps that is why it is so impressive.
Monsaraz: Queen of the white cities
Monsaraz comes into view just after the bridge. From its high perch on a hilltop on the western bank, it dominates the surrounding countryside. And as if the rugged rocky slopes were not enough protection, it surrounds itself with a thick wall, from which the defiant towers of the castle rise up ready to defend itself. As gloomy as the fortress is in stony grey, the two towers of the church shine brightly in the morning light. In the shimmering heat, the town seems to float above the plain.
We carefully round a headland in the south of the town and enter the harbour bay. Here we even find a floating dock twice as long as usual, with a few fishing boats moored on the inside. On the outside - and this is the real surprise - there is another charter boat from the marina, a longer Nicols 1100. There would be no room for either of us on the long side of this jetty, but our predecessors had the foresight to moor with the stern.
Even without bow anchors and mooring lines, this is a safe alternative with the wide, straight sterns of the Nicols boats. However, a windward lead line should still be deployed just in case. There are no service facilities in this bay either, but there is an improvised "bar" in a scrap-ready van made of corrugated iron.
There we not only meet the friendly boy behind the bar, who immediately pushes two ice-cold cans of Sagres over to us, but also the other charter crew: the French have just returned from Monsaraz - by bike. "Don't do it!", they warn us in English, pointing to their bikes one after the other - we have the same ones on board - and then to the steep serpentines of the road up the mountain.
up the mountain.
"Like Tour de France, like Mont Ventoux", they explain. The allusion to one of the "sacred" (and toughest) mountains of the legendary tour is enough to make us give up our bikes. Fortunately. Instead, we make the pilgrimage up the rock on foot and soon start to sweat, but then the bastions of Monsaraz rise up out of the mountain above us.
We immediately believe that this "white city" is the most beautiful of its kind: narrow, cobbled streets, flanked on both sides by stooped but immaculately white houses, lead to the church square. To the west, almost hanging gardens in bright colours nestle against the walls. Silence reigns here, except for the buzzing of bees.
Continue to the castle, built by the Knights Templar, who were once particularly powerful in Portugal. In its inner courtyard is an arena where bullfights are still held. From the sandy circle, we climb through the vaults of the keep to its highest platform. The view is magnificent: deep below us is the bay with our boat and behind it the lake in the coarsely woven, undulating carpet of the landscape. Further to the west, the dead-straight rows of olive groves stretch out, criss-crossed by old Roman roads, while the prayer bell rings brightly from the Orada monastery a little to the north.
Luz: City of light
We leave Monsaraz the next day and turn the bow southwards again, towards the dam. We motor the almost 14 kilometres to the entrance to the bay of Luz, which has suffered particularly badly from the lack of water, and even at the buoy line it is so shallow that the echo sounder keeps sounding the alarm. We don't even try to reach the jetty, but moor alongside on a somewhat steeper strip of shore:
Slowly we move forwards until the bow presses gently into the clay. The fore line is passed ashore over the bow and tied to a wild cork oak. The boat is then pulled round with the stern line until it is parallel to the shore. There is (almost) no need to worry about the rudder and propeller - they are protected by a sturdy rudder hook.
Luz itself has an extraordinary history: it was "rescued" from the water, demolished and rebuilt in a safe place - an interesting little museum documents this unique "relocation". The result is nevertheless reminiscent of a film set in a bizarre way: the low rows of houses along the wide streets are so new, clean and glistening white.
But perhaps this is precisely why the place, whose name means "light", is a fitting symbol for the fact that the region still has to get used to its new future; a "light" that points to the future. But it is precisely this
development - the contrasts of yesterday, today and tomorrow - is also what makes the Grande Lago d'Alqueva a truly unique experience as a charter area.
Info and bookings about: Nicols Yacht - Groupe NADIA GmbH Robert-Koch-Str . 7 , 77694 Kehl, Tel : 07851- 885 19 80 (On-site support is provided by the Amieira-Marina team).
