Lisbon's seven hills
The hilly streets of Lisbon
Cobbles, climbs and trams
For the past hour I’ve ridden over more cobbles and up more steep hills, seen more tiles and wonderful city views than I ever thought possible and the route-map tells me, I’m not even half way round on this circular city route. Ahead I hope, there are many more tramlines, urban forest single tracks, palace gardens filled with peacocks and street trees covered in pink-purple flowers.
The view from the Miradouro da Senhora do Monte over Lisbon to 25 April bridge
As the soft-morning light gathers speed, I ride under an oversized arch-way and away from the glistening river Tejo. The small limestone squares of the Praça do Comercio’s pavement squeak under the hired gravel bike’s tyres. An Asian lady, in the most figure-hugging of flesh-coloured dresses steps into my path. For a distracted moment, I wonder if she is dressed at all so skin-matching is her costume. She is far too busy pouting into her phone-camera, to notice me skid out of her way.
Lisbon trams - always worth getting out of their way
I head up the first of the Seven Hills. Squealing metal wheels of a tram pursue me as we both struggle upwards. l hear the urgent ringing of the driver’s bell, warning me that the tram will neither slow nor stop should I be in its way in ten metres time. The threat of being eaten by a tram encourages me to climb a little faster.
At the crest, the lights are red and we both come to a stop. The heavily stubbled face of the tram driver breaks into a toothy smile accompanied by a single nod of his head as I pull the bike out of his way. As I wait for the lights to turn, I notice the drain cover under my tyre; it’s a relief in iron, of sails and ships and sea. An ignored and much trodden-over work of art.
Lisbon drain cover
Deep inside the district of Alfalfa, I ride the narrow, twisting and cobbled alleyways, and arrive in a small square. There, a grandpa sits on a bench under the shade of a wide-branched tree. He holds a cigarette in one hand tickles his giggling grandson with the other. The white walls of the houses music with their laughter.
The enormous urban forest of Monsanto is an antidote to the city’s traffic and noise. There, the rich smell of pine and eucalyptus, the profound silence and the network of tracks paths is sublime. There are wide walks too, where families stroll and children ride their bikes. I take whichever one takes my fancy, and weave a thread of tyre tracks in the forest’s dust. At the end of one such path, a tape blocks the way onto an empty forest road. I ride underneath it and enjoy the hum of tyres on the road, when a policewoman dashes from beside a tree and furiously blows a high-pitched whistle. Her hand waves like a beating pigeon wing. Unbeknown to me until this moment, the road is closed for a bike race. Moments later, the peloton glides past in a whirr of wheels and coloured lycra.
Monsanto Forest Park
I descend a little too fast back into the maze of the city’s streets. The bike jerks and flies over the uneven streets, and traffic floods past at an even greater speed. Later, in the calm of the botanical park Tapada das Necissadades, a brood of clucking chickens trot beside me as I struggle up a rough track.
Bairro Alto
On the way back to that triumphal arch, I pedal through a park which is more office space than gardens; young men and women sit on benches beside the path feverishly tapping on their laptops. A sun beam catches the bronzed and bare shoulder of a young woman. Her hair, lit by the sun, looks like flames. Above her, a pink trumpet tree, Tabebuia impetiginosa, blooms against the serene blue sky.
Pink Trumpet Tree, Tabebuia impetiginosa
Along the way of course, there are palaces and great parks where ancient trees, gathered in the days of Empire, grow. There is bitter coffee to drink and home-baked Pastel de Nata too eat in a street side cafe which is not listed in the guides. And because this is Lisbon, the streets are bordered by an endless gallery of open-air art; tile-covered houses, and André Saraiva’s 50,000 tiled mural in Campo de Santa Clara. And as glorious in complexity and design as any 15th century UNESCO heritage monastery, were the many examples of wall-art around the city, including Bordallo’s house-height fox made of street rubbish and paint.
Bordallo II's fox
In the conventional sense, Lisbon is not a bike-friendly city. Its narrow and hilly streets plagued by traffic, may not be the thing that cycling dreams are made, but to pedal under that serene light, to push up those steep cobbled hills, to admire the views from the Miradouros before bouncing down them in some sort of control, was as adventurous and thrilling as any mountain ride.
Ride practicalities
Bike Hire: Lisbon Bike Rentals. A large range of mid-top end Canyon bikes. I hired a Canyon Grizl; its wide tyres, lightness and good handling were perfect for the Lisbon trails and roads. The on-line and in-store service were superb. Thanks to the store for the details of this route.
Have you ridden this ride?
All route details are given in good faith. However, the situation on the ground can change quickly. Feel free to add any thoughts or suggestions which you think might help other cyclists who wish to ride the route - cafe stops, additions to the route etc.