Morning still hangs cool over the old bridge of Ponte de Lima when I roll out of the valley. At first the road is gentle by the water, then it starts to pull: the first long climb of the day, almost 10 km, more stubborn than steep, through villages, vines and the smell of eucalyptus. Near Tamel it bites again, about 4 km uphill, before Barcelos appears with its lanes and famous rooster. After that, the day breaks into small waves, stone walls, churches and suburbs – until Porto suddenly rises ahead, big, loud and brilliant.
