After a lovely sunny day yesterday it rained heavily in the night and this morning is grey and overcast, but we stick to the plan to explore Nazare.

We go a hundred yards to the sea front where the empty golden sands are being lashed by curling waves. The world record for the biggest wave ever surfed was made off the coast of Nazare. The promenade is lined with mostly modern style whitewashed buildings but here and there a few older styles can be seen. The mist is almost masking the cliff which splits the town into 'downstairs' and 'upstairs', but we can just make out the funicular railway which joins the two levels.

We make our way to the station and get tickets. The car is billed as wheelchair accessible, but even though we only brought the manual push chair it requires the driver to help us negotiate the steep, sloping step. When we get 'upstairs' there is another ride on a stairlift to the top of the station, so two for the price of one!

The top level is very different from below. A few busy streets lead us to the huge, open square dominated by the church. All around the square are market stalls all run by Nazare's 'Ladies'. The ladies are dressed in a distinctive fashion, leather shoes with knee-length knitted socks, billowing knee-length woollen skirts puffed out with seven layers of lace underskirts and tied around with sashes, woollen cardigans and heavy headscarves. There is a constant banter between the ladies, all shouting with coarse, hoarse voices. The stalls are laden with knitwear, embroidery, nuts, fruit and sweets.

One of them offers us figs and nuts to taste, and of course we end up buying some. They are measured out in little wooden boxes the tipped into paper bags. There is also peanut brittle and popcorn. As we are moving away she calls us again and blows us kisses.

There is a fabulous view from the top over the sea, beach and town, a mass of pink rooves, and we can just see the vans parked through the mist, before we go to catch the railcar and return downstairs.

We stop for coffee [espresso €0.80] then wander to the end of the beach where the fish wives are working. Tightly wrapped in shawls and headscarves a bit like turbans, they sit with buckets of water full of sardline-like fish. With bare forearms and weathered hands they split and gut the fish with their fingers before laying them to dry, the fillets 'butterflied' out from head and tail and neatly arranged on net frames according to size. There are various sizes, the smallest possibly being anchovies, to the largest about the size of mackerel. One woman tells us they are left to dry for three days then salted, or barbequed fresh.

Back at the vans we have lunch then set off at 14:00 towards Coimbra. It is a fairly uninteresting drive through drizzle, stopping briefly for fuel and a few supplies. We reach Coimbra and find the camper stop in a park near the river.

It's a peaceful, if crowded spot, but it gets dark at 18:30 so once the curtains are drawn it doesn't matter about the other vans.