When I slipped away from a strictly planned trip.

I parked my car off the road Estrada das Hortas, just next to an access road to the forest, around 2.4 km from Louzanpark. Since the dirt road is unattractive, to an untrained eye, most people drive further to Chiqueiro, Casal Novo or Talasnal. And that means fewer humans, more wild boar. I walk for about twenty minutes on the dirt road that squiggles as if it was contour line of the topographic map but inclines steadily. It’s sunny. The valley makes me think about Redwood National Park, maybe because of the huge tree trunks–for local standards.

Recently I was about to go on a cycling trip, but I had to listen to my spirit--it was too much planning, too much thinking about an itinerary.

My buddy had an idea to go on a three-day-long bicycle trip somewhere nice. Initially I was thrilled—a new experience in a part of Portugal I had never been to with my friends–a whole three of us–nice. But when a fourth person joined, the excitement shifted towards a bad feeling. The whole thing began to remind me of my last tech job, with a daily progress reports and frequent recaps.

A day after he learned about our idea, guided by reason, he asked his pen pal, an author of 10 books on cycling in the country, about the best cycling trail. There is one particular bicycle trail, the little bird let him know, that would cycle dry, even if the whole country is drenched in the autumn rain. Previously only a childish happy thought, but now a well-argued one with years of experience and a number of books, has become our well-grounded adventure plan.

I lost my voice. And the silence, the unknown, was like a kindling for him.

Anxious to let things unfold freely, first he divided the trial into daily sections: day one(morning, afternoon, evening), day two(morning, afternoon, evening), and day three(you get the idea). But before going on the trip, he suggested, we should go on a day-long ride to test our gear, a wishful thinking. Who, a working-class dads, has time for testing the gear, what gear?

Next, the accommodation, assuming the weather gives us the all clear(November in Portugal may be rainy), he sealed the list of places in which we'll spend the nights, even though it was more than a month before the trip.

Having thought, then, about the first day at the starting point, he realized too little is planned, so, after careful research, he booked a guided tour of the town, in English, of course. And once the tour would be over, which starts at 10:30, we would eat lunch in that restaurant with great ratings, and the whole Saturday would be free, he happily announced, thank you very much.

The bad feeling in my stomach had become a well-defined nausea.

And here I am; instead of a three-day-long cycling trip, I'm walking in the Lousã mountains, not knowing where exactly I'll end up today. But once I let the planners have their plans, step by step, my thoughts drift away, and my body relaxes.

When the stream finally emerges from between the trees only to disappear under the dirt road, something caught my attention. I take a sharp turn right and set off, alongside the stream, down again following a narrow path only accessible for walkers and trail runners. Cypress trees lengthen, reaching the sun, and the stream simmers, creating a pleasant microclimate. This doesn't look like central Portugal, more like northern France, I thought.

The terrain gets harder to walk, with rocks, fallen trees, and something between footbridges and duckboards built with tree trunks. Slippery and sketchy but fitting perfectly to the environment. Except for this feature, my dog loves it here; he runs around following scents of foxes and deer or wild boar (his body language tells me when he finds one).

After about 40 minutes, climbing up, down, and up again, and on and off the yellow-red-marked trail, I'm back at my car, and having seen nobody, the nature's silence tingles my soul. If I had more time, on my way up where the dirt road crosses the stream, after joining the yellow-red-marked trail, I'd climb all the way to Terreiro das Bruxas--that would add another 1.5 hours to the walk. For today it’s enough, though, I’ll come back here to explore more soon. As soon, in fact, as I’ll feel my body and mind need it.

An adventure for me is when I can say, with relief perhaps, I was aiming for this place, but I ended up somewhere else. Itineraries may be about spending time productively, but I prefer to feel free, to be surprised.