Come on Aline
Faffing around before the rain
I’ve always wanted a dog called Eileen.
The delight it would bring every time I shouted out in public “Come on Eileen...Come on Eileen...” would never get old.
Sadly The LBD (Little Black Dog) is a boy, but at least we had Portugal’s first named Atlantic storm to fall back on this week.
It might have been Storm Babet battering Britain, but it was Aline which was too-loo-rye-aying her way towards Portugal this week...same storm system, different first letter.
Or for those preferring an alternative pronunciation, perhaps Aline was making a beeline for Iberia.
Either way we had rain coming for the first time in a while.
And somewhat later than we should have done, we went into batten-down-the-hatches mode and started preparing optimistically for a steady stream of winter storms.
First off was the wood pile.
The last remnants of the eucalyptus forest which inhabited the area where we’re now building has been waiting for collection for a while, and having been baked for another summer was ready to be harvested and neatly arranged behind the house.
I’ve been blaming a dodgy back for putting it off, but with Aline coming, that excuse – like the woodpile – couldn’t wash.
And it was a good reminder to Ana and I of the great thing about having a natural gym on our doorstep - despite the aches and pains afterwards.
Then there was the other woodpile almost covered by brambles: a dense harder wood which will burn better, but needed chopping first.
Enter Erik’s Axe – the splitter axe kindly bought and carried from Sweden by Ana’s brother after a call to arms inspired by reading Norwegian Wood (no, not the Murakame version but by a Scandinavian author…and which has been a bestseller…in Scandinavia at least).
And chopping wood…that is a workout.
We got those at least under cover, if not all neatly stacked, but had no time for the pine.
But that’s been drying for a year and a half and is parked on a wooden pallet, so will have to wait under a tarpaulin until the rain clears and I have recovered from the last round of axing.
We lapped around the house looking for things that could get wet in a storm, made sure the tools were tidied away and the doors firmly shut and readied ourselves for its arrival.
Everything was pretty well prepared by the time the wind speed started increasing – with one exception.
We have some equipment up on the site, too big and bulky to be moved in and out of the new houses as required by the builders, and so it has been languishing on the hill in full exposure to the elements...which had not so far been particularly troublesome.
With a storm coming we invested in some thick black plastic sheeting to keep the rain off the machines and their cardboard boxes (to sit alongside the already well-covered bar) and set about wrapping them up tightly.
But as the storm approached the inadequacy of our preparations became obvious.
The winds were strong – very strong – apparently gusting at more than 100km/h and some heavy rocks and scaffolding frames did as well as Argentina did against the All Blacks in the first rugby world cup semi-final.
They resisted well and put up a good fight, but were comprehensively overwhelmed in the end.
Just before the first wave of torrential rain began, I popped up to check out the defences and they were already breached.
I did what I could, navigating a huge black plastic sail in the quickly strengthening horizontal rain, but with little success retreated to the house to enjoy the spectacle of some proper water flowing down our swales and into the lake.
The first storm is the time to find those little leaks which have widened through the summer heat and let the winter water in...and we found a few.
It’s a chance to see where pools of water are forming, and where strategic digging can direct even more into the lake.
It’s also a reminder of how solar panels need the sun to work as well as usual – something we sometimes forget with 300 days of sunshine a year.
Neighbour Daniel will admit he’s been a little lavish with his ‘lectrics and after two early morning power cuts caused by a new heat pump and a night time dishwash on the first day, (and a coffee maker and microwave used at the same time on the second) he is adapting to off-grid living in the time of rain.
At least he could cancel the water delivery, as his new gutter system was gathering all his worldy flushing needs...for a couple of weeks at least!
The rainfall wasn’t bad...but it wasn’t as much as predicted.
Getting properly plastered
By the time the rain came, the Moldovan Front Row I wrote about last week were long gone: they had packed up and shipped off to help someone else get well and truly plastered.
But just a couple of days later, a Romanian tile master arrived and showed us what speed-tiling looks like.
Hot on the heels of our three week marathon of bathroom redesign we could appreciate the skills of a man who been doing it for 15 years.
His pace was as phenomenal as the plastering crew. Working alone he tiled to the tune of Europop radio and in the blink of an eye had glue mixed, tiles cut, placed and bathrooms quickly covered.
Just to keep up with him we had to race to the shop to collect a truckload of tiles ourselves rather than waiting for delivery, causing even Cassie the Hilux to dip under the weight as I very slowly navigated the dirt road back.
Seeing bathrooms fully tiled is another aesthetically satisfying step towards completion – despite the lack of windows – but that’s also moved on as the PVC guys turned up to take the final measurements and discuss the designs.
Windows which open in various ways are always a winner, but with wind – and the reminder this week of how strong it can be on top of the hill – helped us to decide on sliding panes to avoid windows taking a battering.
The key is lots of large glass panes with not so many frames in the way of the view, which will be the main attraction at Vale das Estrelas when we open.
The sun is now shining, the power banks and the hot water is replenishing and there’s more rainfall on the horizon.
Hopefully the as yet unnamed new storm approaching as I write will actually bring the mighty number of millimetres my app is predicting.
Come on Aline...2...rye-eh.
oh I am about to walk the Portuguese coast - I am watching that weather from Australia. I love your updates and your agave flowers! - thank you
Great photos again Ali. Keep up the good work.