Madrid Atocha Cercanias – Badajoz – Entroncamento – Lisbon Oriente – Faro
Today was always going to be the longest travelling day of this trip. With 4 trains and one very tight connection in the middle that needed to be made, plus it including my first ever trip into mainland Portugal, I was looking forward to this one.
Happily it was also a fairly relaxed start, just before 9am, so I had time for breakfast. Given what I’d seen of this hotel so far it was no surprise that it was a really excellent spread, which I thoroughly enjoyed.
The weather today was grey, sometimes wet but was due to improve as it went on. The first part of the journey was unremarkable, barring the irritation of what felt like a wheel flat directly below me. The sound and associated judder were irritating, but eventually I found I could ignore it, keeping myself busy dealing with work things that needed my attention. In the rain and mist the journey was not terribly exciting, though there were parts that looked like they would be quite pleasant on a nicer day.
I did this part of the journey in 2023, in the reverse direction, on my previous failed attempt to get into Portugal, which was thwarted by a train strike. I’d also intended to visit from Spain on a trip by car almost 20 years ago, but lack of time conspired against me, as I needed to get somewhere so had to change my itinerary. On both occasions I had got to within just a few miles of the border.
Something that I clearly remembered from the previous trip was the Roman Acueducto de los Milagros, or Aqueduct of the Miracles in Mérida. Oddly you pass it twice, as the train changes direction at the station there, reversing past before continuing in a different direction. While we were paused in the station I spotted a rather odd structure just beyond the station limits and couldn’t decide whether it was functional (though I’m not sure what it might be) or whether it was a stylised modern take on its antique neighbour.
A little distance further on I finally managed to grab a photo of a stork on top of a mast. It’s not a great photo but I’m fascinated by their nests; how do they build such a thing? I’m not surprised that the owner was standing proudly on top.
We changed trains in Bajadoz. This was as far as I had got last time. The final station before the Portuguese border. I recall several groups of Interrail travellers huddling together working out what they would do next. Some of them clubbed together and got a taxi for the very long trip to Lisbon. I dread to think what that would have cost, but I returned the way I had come.
With a little time before the next train, I walked a short way into the town. There wasn’t a lot to see, and it started to drizzle so I went back to the station.
When our train was called, just a handful of us boarded. It was a single carriage train, unlike anything I’ve seen before. It was soon obvious that most of the other passengers were Interrailing. I got chatting briefly to a Finnish lady who had done this journey several times before and told me to expect that it would get busier as it went along. The two English travellers behind me were rail enthusiasts who had done obscure lines all over the world. They were in this area for a few days, as there are a number of these tiny trains in the very rural eastern part of Portugal.
As we pulled out, the Renfe train was being parked in a siding before its return to Madrid, later in the day. I felt sorry for the dispatcher on the platform in the rain, but he did make for a good photo!
In no time at all we were in Portugal. If there was a sign, I missed it, but it very quickly became clear that the border coincided with a change of scenery. Everywhere was suddenly very green. A lot of the scenery looked to me like it could be the Peak District of the UK. Only the buildings marked it our as being a different country. Having been less than enthusiastic about inland Spain, this all felt very much nicer, yes it did feel somewhat familiar but it was also charming in the way it was different. At one point we passed a few fields of buttercups. Spring is well on the way, in mid-January!
The stations were a mix of tiny shelters and beautifully tiled buildings, with quite impressive water towers at several of them. There really was a lot to like about this area.
I became confused looking at the many photos I was taking as they seemed to be out of order, jumbled in with ones from earlier in the day. It was only after a while that I noticed we’d changed timezone. Portugal is on the same timezone as the UK so our clock had gone back by an hour and my cameraphone couldn’t make sense of that!
I had a conversation with the train manager about my onward journey. The Interrail application had told me that I needed reservations for the rest of my journey through Portugal, but the app was unable to make these for me, and I wanted to be sure that I’d been correctly informed (in an online post I’d read the night before) that I could make reservations on board, as there would not be time to go to the ticket office. He confirmed that this would be the case, which set my mind at rest.
Having started the journey with not a lot to do, his day was becoming increasingly busy as almost every stop saw people boarding, as more tickets had to be sold or checked.
We pressed on through more super countryside, with so much to enjoy looking at. I particularly liked the derelict building which now hosted a stork colony. They are definitely becoming a theme of this trip!
As we got closer to the end of this journey, we started losing time. This was the connection that I really needed to make, only 6 minutes and there were a few anxious looks around the increasingly busy carriage. Missing it meant a two hour delay. The problem was that most of the line is single track and services coming the other way were delayed and we had to wait for them. By the time we pulled into Entroncamento, we were almost 20 minutes late.
It’s a curious station, the platform nearest the station buildings allows boarding from both sides, though they are different platform numbers.
The Finnish lady I’d spoke to earlier (who it turns out used to live in Lisbon and spoke great Portuguese) established that everything was running late so it was a matter of getting onto whatever came in, to get as far as Lisbon.
We got into a conversation about travel, as well as her long-standing love of Portugal in general and Lisbon in particular.
Within a relatively short time, and after one train had passed without stopping, a train pulled in for Lisbon. It turned out to be the one we were meant to get onto, which was even more delayed than ours was. I still didn’t have a reservation so settled down in the buffet car to wait for the train manager.
When he arrived he really couldn’t have been more helpful. I explained the journey I was trying to make and within moments he was on the phone trying to sort me out. It turned out the that connection I was trying to make in Lisbon had started in Porto and behind us, also delayed. It didn’t stop in Entroncamento, even though it passed through, hence the need for an additional connection.
He made the reservations for both the current train and the next one and explained that it was expected to come into the same platform as we would arrive in, a couple of minutes later. What amazing service, and a great way to be welcomed into Portugal.
The train pulled into the very impressive Oriente station and I got out. I waved goodbye to my Finnish friend, who was going on one more stop into the centre of Lisbon and as that train pulled off, the Faro train pulled in on the adjacent platform. They were literally side by side for a few seconds. I won’t get a tighter connection that that, however long I try!
We left the city on a viaduct over the estuary of the Rio Tejo (Tagus River.) I look forward to seeing it from below at some point, but from up high with the sun setting it was certainly a great view, even with the bridge struts in the way.
It turned dark very quickly. I was now able to book a hotel, as up to this point had been was no certainty that I would even get to Faro tonight. The selection of highly rated hotels was really good and they were improbably cheap. I guess it is a place that doesn’t get a lot of visitors out of season, so there is lots of unused hotel capacity. I chose a place a few minutes walk from the station.
We arrived into Faro half an hour behind schedule. The first thing I noticed after getting off the train was that it was pleasantly warm, I certainly didn’t need a coat though by now it was well after 9pm. A couple of days earlier I’d been bitterly cold in Marseille at this time of the evening. The second thing I noticed was that this was a town with more than its fair share of derelict buildings.
As I continued down the street I wondered what I was about to encounter. My concerns were however unfounded. The place was immaculate. Something I’d never seen before was a machine rather like a cashpoint outside the front door which was an automated check-in machine. I started to work my way through the quite non-intuitive process and after struggling a couple of times with the passport section (it was trying to scan it) I was joined by a member of staff who had just turned up. She explained that the machine was very new, and not yet in regular use, so she would check me in, inside.
I did seem to have fallen on a gem of a place. The place was spotless, newly decorated and the room was super. I dropped my bags off and was heading into town when I remembered that I had a work update that needed to be attended to before 10pm. I went back to my room, did that and then went for a walk. I perhaps should have guessed that it would have felt quite similar to Funchal in Madeira, also Portuguese, which I’d visited a few years ago. I had a good walk around and took a few photos. The old town is rather pleasant and away from the central area felt quite unspoiled.
The harbour (picture at the top of this page) is the focal point of the town, though at nearly 11pm everywhere was quiet. A thing I always try not to do, especially on holiday, became my last resort here, and I called into McDonalds to get something to eat. Literally everything else had closed at or before 10pm, but this was open until 2am. At least I got local orange juice with my chicken, which was much nicer than the mass produced product they serve in the UK.
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