Moving into the modern world (sort of…)

The other morning, I went out for a walk. I began by wandering up through the village.

I passed through the square, headed up the hill ahead of me towards the train station, passing Nanobrew and the supermercado as I did so. I crossed the small footbridge that runs over the railway track, and continued on my way towards Estrada Bias do Sul. After a further five minutes or so, I was out in the country.

Lovely!

The sky was blue and the clouds few and far between. It was warm with a gentle breeze. The only annoying thing was the occasional fly choosing to dive bomb me – little bastards. I spent a fair amount of time waving my hands around my head, I have to say.

As I continued on my way towards Olhão, I had a good sweat on. However, Olhão wasn’t my intended destination. As I reached the boardwalk just past the FC Bias football pitch, I remained on the gravel path and found myself heading eastwards, back towards Fuzeta.

I saw no one as I headed homeward, but as I happily strolled along, I heard the bell going, the one that signifies that a train is coming and that cars can no longer cross the line.

A couple of minutes later, I looked up, and there it was: my first view of one of the new electric trains.

Last year (or was it the year before?) the authorities had decided to electrify the line and do away with the old diesel trains. It does make me wonder where all this electricity is going to come from as we do away with fossil fuels, but I won’t go down that rabbit hole. What I will say though is: what will happen when the area suffers one of its fairly frequent power cuts? That will be interesting.

Anyway, I was semi-surprised to see an electric train, since a few months back, I read a piece stating that the authorities had done a good job electrifying the line, but that they now didn’t have enough money to buy the necessary trains! At the time, I simply thought: ah, Portugal…

But it would seem that they had found the money from somewhere, and that there was now new rolling stock on the Vila Real de Santo António to Lagos line.

I watched and listened. The train was quieter than the old diesels, although it still made some noise, and it appeared to have a rather strange, patchy livery – a sort of mottled yellow and black. And then it was gone, off into the distance, off to Olhão.

I carried on home and thought no more about it.

A couple of days later, I had to head into Olhão to deliver some paperwork and get some keys cut, and I was looking forward to it: my first trip on one of the new electric trains.

I checked the train times on the Comboios de Portugal app, and found that the new trains had brought with them a new timetable: trains every hour? Unheard of! What a bonus! I also noticed that the price of the journey had stayed the same – except for the 10:18 which now costs 20¢ more… weird. Or maybe that’s just a mistake on the app? Who knows. Presumably I’ll find out one day.

So, I wandered up the hill once more, to the train station this time. On the platform I came across Ruben, who was also catching the electric train for the first time. We both decided that it would be interesting to see the difference from the old rolling stock.

And yes, it was interesting. As the train arrived, I noticed that the livery wasn’t a sort of mottled yellow and black. It was more a distressed look – ie, I think that it had originally been yellow, but now that paint was peeling off.

Eh? Yes, it would seem that the trains weren’t new, that they had a bit of history. Well, more than a bit if I’m being honest. Still, when the graffiti boys do their thing, I’m sure that we won’t notice. It will be just like the old days.

The doors opened at the press of a button, and we stepped inside. Mmmm… at first glance it looked good. The carriage was well lit, with lots of space, and the seats provided for five passengers across the carriage (a two-seater and three-seater) as opposed to the two and two on the old diesel trains. That was good, but as I looked closer, I saw that the orange upholstery was fairly worn, with yellow threads peeking through. But at least the seats were comfortable, I thought.

The ride to Olhão was uneventful, except for Ruben chatting to an old lady from the village. Amazingly, I understood most of what was being said, although after five minutes or so, I gave up listening – all that concentration was making my head hurt.

We soon arrived in Olhão and I left Ruben behind me on the train. He was on his way to Faro, apparently.

I did what I needed to do and headed homeward, walking along the Ecovia despite the heat.

Once home, I investigated a bit further. I wanted to know where the trains had come from:

It seems that they have been redeployed from northern Portugal, following route modernisations up there. It would have been nice to have the new stock here in the south, in the Algarve, but beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose. We can’t turn our noses up at rolling stock dating from the 1970s and 1980s. It’s better than a kick up the butt, as my dad used to say. At least it works, the seats are more comfortable and we now have a more regular timetable.

We need to be grateful for small mercies!