The word 'stunning' is just adequate, we think. Lake Canicada (dam).
Not the highest but more than testing. Anyway, Jen's getting older so it makes sense to give the 'old girl' a break. (Truth be told, she's not intimidated easily...(snakes, bears, cows since Nepal 1, leeches, excluded.) 
Vegetation is thick and colorful.
We haven't seen much 'sun' since this view.
A view of a corner of the lake from the less common (and attractive) viewpoint. Requires some rock climbing off-trail.
A delightful place to call home.
Jen takes it carefully as she approaches the off-trail peak.
While the 'boy hero' tries his rescue act on a damsel in distress.
We reach a meadow on the mountain top as we head, unbeknown to us at the time, to the formal viewpoint overlooking Lake Canicada.
Jen heading into the unknown.
In the distance, one catches a glimpse of the lake from the first peak.
Once again, we try to understand the concept of trees and forest or is it wood for the trees?
The Portuguese word for 'drought' has been deleted officially from the dictionaries. It is superfluous in the north.
Another view of Lake Canicada which should be contrasted with the photograph below it.
On another hike, we view the lake from the opposite mountain, giving a different perspective (no sun).
Looking down at part of the town of Geres, a very attractive place to live. The lone grass patch across the way is the 'Futebol' field, a place we pass on one of the hikes. 
We never lack for excitement on our days of Hike-about. It is a wonderful result from our activities, more like adventures, which at times can become a little too adventurous. While the periods in the wilderness would appear to be the places where we might suffer (enjoy) the most risks, it appears that’s not the case. Bothersome occurrences 'really' take place in towns and cities more frequently. I wish the correct word was ‘rarely’. I suppose it makes sense that we obviously prefer living in the wilderness or near it as opposed to the civilized world. One day, I think I’ll revisit a dictionary to try to understand what the word civilization means—I really believe I misunderstood some of the schooling undertaken. (I suppose I’m straying…again.)
The airline did well in getting us to our final destination, Lisbon, despite some poor weather. That our luggage was not mislaid as in our last flight with said airline was another bonus. However, we were late because of heavy clouding which meant a night arrival, that the rental car company might panic fearing ‘a no show’, and we’d struggle to find our apartment for a single night somewhere outside Lisbon, in the dark.
‘Meet at the Vodafone Store’, was the instruction, at which place someone would collect us and take us to the depot where the car would be awaiting us. We arrived at the said store, but it made no sense as it was even before we cleared customs and immigration. We decided to seek a Vodafone store on the other side of the guards who keep ‘illegals’ from entering the country.
'On the other side', (officially in Lisbon), we found the store but felt pretty silly standing around trying to be found. We approached a fellow holding a phone and clipboard, entered into discussion about language and then whether he would help us. Like so many people we have spoken with and needed help from since arriving in the country, he was obliging. Long story short but a little complicated, he managed to contact our rental supplier who told us to meet across the road. How we’d recognize each other, where exactly, how long it would take, are matters of detail—information we did not have. Action required! I dodged around trying to find the appropriate white car or van while Jen guarded our luggage. After a while, a woman approached us and identified herself. Fantastic.
She took us to the depot and after a refreshing discussion during and after the short journey, (she spoke English fluently), we headed for Casa Maria. The GPS was loaded with information, instructing us to head north. Great. I didn’t know what day it was, nevermind directions. Jen settled me, thankfully. She reminded me to switch to offline as we had not purchased data—the last thing on our minds. Car loaded, Jen holding the phone, both my hands on the wheel or one on the stick-shift or gear lever, depending in which country one was born, and we revved up and off we drove into the long-passed sunset.
We were looking for an address with number 40. We had reached the correct road. Lo and behold, there wasn’t a ‘40’. I asked Jen whether we should try 41, after all, it was only a single digit difference. We noticed a young couple walking down the street and made an approach. As a reminder, European roads in the towns are challenging, being most tactful. That tend to be extremely narrow and invariably, very steep. The couple were most helpful. They pulled out two phones and got busy. The young woman mentioned we should be in the next village, some ten minutes back. The guy thought we should continue up the mountain while trying to avoid scraping the car against the walls of the houses which abut the roads.
We chose the guy’s recommendation because after all, it was more convenient. We also asked them to kindly call the landlady which they did. We don't know the outcome, but it seemed we should just roll with the car. We departed but soon realized we had tried the route earlier. Perhaps we missed something. Suffice to say, we were back where we had begun but tried a few turns and twists including utilizing some dirt roads, too.
Jen spoke about having to sleep for the night in the car prior to us heading up north the next day to Geres, our destination. The baggage/luggage could find its own venue. While that was a brave comment, the thought of a night spent as envisaged was terrible. We’d have to find an hotel although we’d paid for the night’s accommodation in advance. We tried a few more tricks but to no avail. Then we saw another group of men standing about. I approached and asked whether they would mind calling our landlady again. An elderly woman whom had indicated something to us earlier, which did not appear to be friendly, made some gestures that once again were unwelcoming. She was the only negative person we have come across although it might have been because she seemed a bit odd. (Jen reckons that's quite funny coming from me.) The fellow, one of the few without good English, did the trick.
Ten minutes later, after parking the car on the side of the road, which was a type of miracle in and of itself, a taxi approached. A woman alighted from the vehicle who turned out to be the magic person. “Don’t worry,” we said, “we’ll pick up the tab for the ride.” Turns out that the driver was her husband, and she turned down our offer of compensation. We followed the car to their casa which was lovely. We enjoyed a restful sleep and would have enjoyed staying put, not having to face the world for a few more hours.
It began to rain prior to loading our car with the luggage for the continuing journey. (Hasn't stopped). We set off for Geres which is a 4-hour journey without stops. Would our GPS get us onto the right route, more importantly, did we have the correct address? Fortunately, we arrived safely and on time, too, but once again, the address was not entirely accurate. We noticed two women standing beside the entrance to a building that supposedly, was close to where we were headed. Turned out they were the cleaners for the apartment.
After the previous night, any mountain challenges we'll face, we think, might be easier than our entry into Portugal.
Jen's final approach to the town via a self-termed 'Lovers Lane'.
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
