Hiking in Serra da Estrela. Abandoned mines. Lagoas de Figueiró da Serra

The day at the farm began with a magical misty dawn. The fog, like a softly spun shawl, wrapped everything in its tender embrace. I stepped out of the van and paused to listen to the morning song of small birds piercing the air through the thick white blanket. We had a leisurely breakfast as the mist gradually gave way to sunshine. It was going to be a relaxed day of swimming and easy hiking. We set off towards the lakes we had seen the day before. This time we followed an unmarked, partly overgrown trail that zig-zagged through the fields with a few ruined cottages scattered along the road.

Locals suggested we explore former tungsten mines just above the lakes. We took their advice literally and followed a path that led us to some abandoned structures that we had spotted on Google Earth. As it turned out, we had discovered a deserted quinta with a concrete reservoir and red brick towers that looked very much out of place. Those were quite unusual for this region where houses are traditionally built of granite. We enjoyed that short detour but left a bit puzzled as to the actual story of the place. However, if you are curious about the history of Portugal, look for the Minas dos Azibrais further up the hill. They have been closed since the 1950s but they may have some secrets to tell about the Second World War and the role that wolframite ore from Portugal played in it.

Since it was still too cold to go for a swim, we found a bench under the pine trees, their tops swaying in the wind. We remained there for a while, chatting and soaking up the views. As the day warmed up, the idea of another skinny-dip became more appealing. Unlike the icy mountain stream, the calm, crystal clear water of the lake was surprisingly warm. Not a soul was around and I allowed myself to linger and take a long swim, almost reaching the other shore.

As we were heading back to the farm, an unexpected encounter awaited us. We still remembered the fluffy fox that we had come across yesterday. It didn’t make any noise and retreated hastily at the sight of us. That afternoon though a much bigger and scarier animal crossed our path. In broad daylight, completely out of the blue, a huge wild boar jumped out of the bushes in front of us. It hopped across the trail, and with a loud, grumpy grunt, disappeared into the dense greenery of the valley. Indeed, these veredas belong to man and beast alike.