Peniche's weather and surf turned against us so we decide to head in land. We were given a tip on a lushes lake created by a dam with its own micro-climate, a canoe adventure was on the cards.
The lake is PH tested and smells clean, sampled by accident it's as good as drinkable. Although the water level was a lot lower than normal, pontoons were even stranded on the banks.
The most captivating part of the experience were the sounds. The silence on the lake shore was astonishing, broken only by the odd concealed duck. When the rain started it was surreal like the pitter patter of tiny feet against silence. The odd dynamite-like explosion would echo miles away like an ominous a T-Rex.
We set up camp in the only open campsite on the lake. Being low season the owner was sceptical we would find anywhere for canoe hire. The nautical centre usually teeming with kids and inflatables was dead, fishermen had commandeered it. We sat alone in a carpark brewing coffee and watching silent fishermen when all of a sudden, on mass, a deluge of Dusters descended on us. Each flying mini flags with a club logo, we sat laughing as more and more kept coming to this obscure spot. It was nutty to say the least.
The next morning we donned wetsuits, boyed off canoes and went paddling on our surfboards. Much to the annoyance of local fishermen.
The abandoned wake board park made a great climbing frame. Being a tad unconventional it was a memorable time. The lake area itself is probably much better in summer.
Afterwards we ventured into Tomar, the birth place of the Knights Templar. We ate the best Piri Piri chicken ever.