My Travels in the Algarve

 

My travels in the Algarve

 

Below are extracts from a travel log from September 1991, when I took my backpack, and set out on a journey around the Algarve. I hope you find it interesting. You may even want to visit some of the places  yourself.

23/9 Well it's come around again. Summer holidays, and I've left it too late to stay in this country. So last Friday I booked a flight to Faro, Portugal. I should have arrived on Monday afternoon, but my plane was delayed by 3 hours, and we didn't touch down until 21:00, and everything was closed, including the bank. 

What didn't I have ?

Money. 

I thought it would be a good idea to take travelers cheques. I asked around but the only advice I got was to find a hotel in town. But I needed some Escudos to get to town. !  Bit of a problem. I was surprised how provincial the airport was, considering that it is the only international airport in the Algarve. Security looked scarce, but I didn't want to spend the night there. I wandered down the road for a bit. It did not look too bad. Conifers offered some protection. It was part of a national park, but I didn't know that at the time. I dumped down my bag at a secluded spot and proceeded to while away the hours. I can't say that I was happy with the situation but my options were a bit limited. I was just starting to feel a bit more at ease when a car drove off the road into the wood, headlights shining straight at me. 

I froze.

The car carried on for a bit and stopped. Had I been spotted ? I couldn't take the risk. I bundled all my possessions together and moved. I watched the occupants start a fire. They were having a party. I was having kittens. I didn't get a lot of sleep that night. There was a full moon, and it was so bright you could even see ghosts - I saw a few anyway. I was up and packed before sun-up. I headed for town. I walked for about half a mile, the trees gave way to a river which widened to an estuary. The road went over the estuary to a headland and there it stopped. The sign said Praia de Faro. 

"This can't be the main town" I thought.

I looked back. The airport was clearly visible. Beyond the airport was the outline of high rise buildings. I'd gone completely in the wrong direction. Well at first it didn't look too promising, a few houses on the headland, but it carried on in a kind of semi-circle going right round Faro and creating a lovely golden beach. There was a campsite too, unfortunately, there were not any areas under cover, but I decided to chance it anyway. The trouble was that I had no money, and no-one there could change what I had, which meant hot footing it back to the airport. There wasn't much activity, in fact the place was nearly empty, but at least the bank was open. I got a reasonable exchange rate for an airport, 250Ecudos to the £. 

I was just about to leave when there was this big clap of thunder and the lights went out. They came back on after a short while, but then it started chucking it down. 

"Time for breakfast." I thought. It lasted about an hour. While I was there they announced a flight going back to London. I wouldn't have minded joining it. So far, it hadn't been a particularly auspicious start. By the time I got back to the campsite the sun was out, and it was a pleasant 73 degrees. I paid 70Es for a night, found a nice spot in the sand, and went for a swim. There was a restaurant on site, but it was empty. Not a good sign. So I went to the supermarket and got some bits and pieces for an evening meal. Later on the wind got up, and thick clouds rolled in. Luckily there were only a few spots. Compared with the previous night, my bed of sand and raffia mat seemed like luxury.

Wed - This was a quiet, relaxing day. Although the wind was a bit fresh at times, the sun shone all day. I watched some locals fishing for sprats. There were a lot of fish. I had noticed them the previous day jumping out of the water. Other locals were digging for shell fish in the mud banks of the river.

Ola is Portuguese for hallo. That was about the extent of any conversation on the campsite. Most of the campers were Germans, and for some reason there wasn't the openness that I'd experienced before at other ones. Maybe the site itself had something to do with it. It wasn't the cleanest that I'd seen, and sometimes there was no water. That evening I sat on the beach and watched the sunset. They have gorgeous sunsets here. I discovered Portuguese tinned  sardines. They come in a lovely spicy sauce.

Quarteira

Thurs - Time to move on. If you are travelling in a hot country, you really need to start out early. The transport system tends to grind to a halt at mid-day. In fact I was to discover that this applies to a lot of things in Portugal. I paid up the night before, and was up and out before 8:00. I did not have to wait long for a bus. A right clapped out thing it was. It took me to the main bus station, which I nearly missed. It is not at all obvious that it was the main bus station, it looked like a dis-used warehouse.. There were a load of buses leaving at 9:00, but where to go ? I needed a map. Luckily I managed to find one showing campsites at a tabac stall across the road. I wanted somewhere not too far away. Quarteira looked nice. Only 22km away. Thought I'd give it a try. I bought a ticket and jumped on the bus. The countryside looked flat ,and dry with very little farming activity. The small villages we passed looked squalid and run down. Quarteira turned out to be quite a pleasant little place, with relatively modern apartment blocks, shops and bars. The tourists were a mixture of Brits and Germans. The map showed the campsite 2km east of the town, so I followed the road past a building site, then passed a bull ring where it became a track. Then onto a lovely beach with pine trees and a lake behind it. I stopped here for a rest. Then onto another beach, through some more pine trees, a larger beach, then a golf course. No sign of any campsite. I retraced my steps back to the original beach. There were some camper vans parked up. Surely this couldn't be it ? There was a little cafe, but nothing else. I sat down and drank the last of my Luso ( drinking water ), and pondered. The first priority was to find food , then bed. So I went back to town and had a meal. Then I found a place for tourist information, informacao . It looked like a hotel reception, anyway there was a pleasant looking girl at the desk who spoke English.

"Is there a campsite near ?"

"Yes, up the road on the left."

I looked at her in amazement. I'd just come from there. She said it was 10 minutes away.  I treaded back up the road disconsolately. Then a thought occurred to me. Maybe she meant literally up the road. I had taken a track off it. I carried on up the main road, eventually coming to a small building with international flags flying. This was the campsite. It was a bit more upmarket than the one at Faro. It actually had clean toilets, with pans you could sit on , hot showers, a well stocked supermarket, decent bar/restaurant, and there were trees to provide shelter. I checked in, handed over my passport and found a nice spot under a fig tree. 

Fri- It was windy during the night. I had to shift my position slightly. It wasn't a bad night though - it didn't rain. I was coming to realize that I really should have brought a tent,. How to improvise ? Well there was a building site down the road. There were usually large bits of plastic lying around. I went to have a look. Sure enough I found exactly what I wanted. Probably from a large cement bag , it was not too badly ripped. I went to my favourite beach with the little cafe to wash it out. It must be the best beach because it is where the locals go. Only about half a mile long with about 20 people on it. I went for a swim and then sat in the shade of the pine trees. I wondered how many of the tourists 2km away even knew it existed.

Sat- I moved to a more sheltered position, by a wall with two oleander bushes. Would you believe it , there was no wind. What there was however were ants - hundreds of them. Some left over salami, intended for breakfast attracted them. I had to empty the entire contents of my rucksack. The upshot of this was that I was later leaving than I intended. I ended up on the  9:30 to Portimao. Why Portimao ? It was the next stop along the coast, well 52km along the coast. Actually Albufeira is the next town along the coast , but I had reasons to give it a wide berth, which I will come to later. 

Ferragudo

Portimao is a proper town, with a bit of history. Set on a river estuary the main road approach is via a really old, narrow bridge. There is no bus station. The buses stop on a central square by the quay. The place had the smell of industry and fish, but I was not stopping to explore. I bought a few post cards, and was off again. My destination was the campsite at Ferragudo a few km out of town. There is only one bus, it terminates at Ferragudo. The next bus was 11:45. I sat down and waited.

"Hallo." 

I looked around, surely no-one would be talking to me. Some-one was. A German girl I'd met at Faro bus garage. What were the chances of our paths crossing again ? She was heading north, having stayed at the campsite for a few days. Anyway we chatted for a bit. It passed the time. Ferragudo is no more than a little fishing village. Some buses go all the way to the camp-site, but mine didn't. 

"Take the first turning on the right, and walk for 2km." I had no trouble finding it. A beautiful place it was too, built on a hill overlooking Portimao. The camp-site was good too, and it wasn't even busy. But, there is always a but, the weather turned. It had been cloudy all afternoon. At about 4:00 the heavens opened. I covered my gear with my newly acquired bin liner. It was just big enough for me and my backpack. Now I hadn't noticed before, but it was stamped all over with the word "Durex".

"Must be elephant sized." I thought.

And guess what, it had a hole in the top ! 

If it had been a shower I might have got away with it, but it simply couldn't cope with this deluge. At least I managed to keep my gear dry. That evening I took a long time over my steak and chips. There was some sort of celebration going on with the locals, The Sagres, ( local beer) and Sangria flowed and the restaurant stayed open longer than usual. Later I took my, still dry , sleeping bag and slept in the covered part of the washing area.

Sun - Fortunately the sun shone the next morning and I was able to give my clothes a good airing. The afternoon was spent down on the beach. Ferragudo beach is really beautiful, like a Cornish cove with a rock in the middle. Not good for swimming though, the massive waves caused strong currents that would pull you under if you weren't careful. I returned to the camp to find that a young German couple had parked their camper van right on top of me.

"Sorry, " they said, " we didn't think there was any-one else here." I just said that I'd taken a lot of trouble to keep my patch dry, and didn't intend to move. So I stayed and they stayed. When I returned from my evening meal, I interrupted their candle-light dinner. I'll refrain from a graphic description of the night's events, but the camper van's suspension got a serious work out.

Mon -I'm writing this in a little cave set in a vast amount of sand called Praia Grande. The mid-day sun is too intense. It's about 1km away from the campsite. I could sit all day and watch the little fishing boats come and go. Later on in the afternoon, when it was a bit cooler, I took a stroll round the castle. It did not look very old, but it was quite impressive, built on a hill overlooking the mouth of a river. The main town of Portimao was on the other side of the river. Moving on downhill I  passed through the narrow cobbled streets and terraced houses that is the little fishing village of Ferragudo. This was the Portugal that I'd come to see. The church alone is worth a visit. There's a little monument to Baden Powell, the founder of the scout movement. There were lobster pots stacked up on the quay, and fishing boats tied up. It took me back to a different time.

Lagos

Tue - Nice as Ferragudo was, I didn't plan spending all my time there. Today I was off again. Next stop Lagos. I bought my ticket and waited. The bus was due at 10:00. Sure enough, it came along at 10:00 and carried on straight past my bus stop without stopping. What I didn't know was that there are two types of buses. Local ones which are blue, and long distance ones which are brown, ( Rodoviaria Nacional ) and have different bus stops. I had to wait another hour and a half. I had more success with the next one. 

Lagos, like Portimao  also nestles in a river mouth. The bus crossed the river on a little bridge, the bus  station was  just the other side of the river. It was larger and busier than Portimao. It's a bit more up-market. The main town was a few minutes walk along the tree lined quay side. . I managed to walk straight past it. There is a little town square, with a church, Igreia de Santa Mari. The old town wall and castle are just beyond it. It's nice to sit in the shade and admire the flowering hibiscus and canas. There were two campsites. The nearest was about 1km from the square, the other side of the castle. It is worth pausing at the castle hill top. There is  a terrific view the other side of the river. There is a 10km stretch of unbroken sand. It is completely flat, with just one hotel in the middle of it. Anyway, I was talking about campsites. Campismo Trinidade was the nearest, but I was not impressed with what I saw. Looking like a converted army barracks, with no trees for shelter. ( I was to find later that looks can be deceptive though). What to do ? There was a cafe on the corner. I sat down and had a cup of coffee. There were rooms available, but the weather was good, and I had a sneaking suspicion that the second camp site -Tourismos de Lagos,  would be worth a look. The map said it was about 2km away, on the road the Praia do Porto Mos.  It wasn't difficult to find. Set back from the road with international flags flying. It turned out to be the best of the bunch as far as campsites went. The site was flat, with loads of trees, and big, over 1500 pitches. I went off to find a nice sheltered one, booked in and wandered round. It had every facility you could want, even a swimming pool !. There was a gate at the back which led down the cliff to the sea , via 200 rough hewn steps cut in the rock. So I laid on the beach for a while.

Wed - The night was incredibly warm, with almost no breeze. Sometimes this can be a bad sign, but the day dawned bright and sunny. I spent the morning looking around the old town. It really was incredibly busy. Not difficult to realize why. It's a very distinctive and attractive town. The central square is too small for cars. It's lined with street cafes and souvenir shops. Most of the tourists were Brits. It's worth having a look at the fish market. Some of the things on offer don't look edible. Go early before the smell gets too overpowering. It's possible to get to the massive beach that I mentioned, the other side of the river, but it is quite a walk, pass the train station and follow the track. It ends in sand dunes. If all you want is sand and sea this would be great, but there are no rocks, no trees, no shade of any sort. There are some amazing rock formations not far from the campsite that I discovered later in the day. The Atlantic waves have carved huge holes and incredible shapes in the red sandstone. There is one particular rock that stands out. It looks like an old man sitting on a throne, with a pointed head and a sad expression. There were regular boat trips from the town to them for the tourists. 

Sagres

Thur - Lagos was lovely, but I'd seen it, and I wanted to move on. Next stop was Sagres. This is the end of the road. Sagres is the most western town, a village really, of the Algarve. How to describe this place. There is only one road in. The bus stopped at the roadside. There were a few cafes and a tiny square. The sea was close by, and there was a little track going down to the beach. There were a few houses and one hotel, The Navigator, That was about it. The small campsite was about 2km away, and there was no beach handy. It did not look much, not many people around, and very exposed. In the end I was offered a room for not much more than the camp site would cost. It was a nice room too. I unpacked, and went to explore the giant Atlantic rollers crashing on the beach. It was a hot day, but the water was cold. Those rollers must have come all the way from America.  

Fri - Wow ! what a night's sleep. The bed felt like duck feathers. The day dawned cloudless and still. I thought that I would go out to the fort, Ponta de Sagres before it got too hot. In the square there was a sign saying "Pousada de Juventude"  (youth hostel). It led to a track lined with bamboo. The fort can be seen from this track, about 1km away, built on a rocky peninsular. The low fortress wall covers an open courtyard. There were a few outbuildings in rather poor condition, a little church and a wind-rose. There was a strange atmosphere, like I was stepping into the past. The views were spectacular. The imposing cliffs were similar to those at Lands End. Not surprising really, both are peninsulas. The cliff tops were green, not with grass, but covered with  low growing gorse, heather, succulents, and a plant that I can only describe as a kind of rock rose. When I first arrived, there were only a few Portuguese fishermen, hanging out their fishing rods from the cliffs. Later a few Brits and Germans arrived, but it wasn't busy. It was so peaceful, not even a breeze. I have already mentioned the atmosphere here. It is believed to be sacred, originally called "Sacrum Promonturium", it is only a few km from the point of St Vincent, the most westerly point of mainland Europe. The fort itself was only discovered in 1910. It dates from 15th century, and is credited to Prince Henry the Navigator. He was the son of King John 1st of Portugal and Phillipa of Lancaster. He set up a school of navigation for ships based at Sagres, where he died in 1460, aged 66, As I sat there gazing at the view, I couldn't help thinking about all the ships that set out from here on voyages to new worlds, and wandered how many never came back.

Sat - Up early again to make the most of the day. I walked past the quay up onto the cliffs, where there are the remains of an old building. I think it must be the remains of an old church. The main arch, which is still intact faces west. There was  no inscription, but I am, sure it was very old. No description can convey the remoteness of this place. It is quite unique, but strangely it has been allowed to become littered with rubbish, even wrecks of old cars.. This is unusual because almost everywhere else I've been was exceptionally clean.  

Sun - Back to Lagos today, I took a last look round the cliffs before catching the bus. It was nearly full, which surprised me a bit, especially as they were nearly all Portuguese. I felt like my holiday was effectively over. I had got quite attached to Sagres. The locals had got used to me too. The crazy Englishman, with the wild look and worn out sandals. No more nights under the stars for me. I found a room close to the bus garage. My bus for Faro left at 8:30, and I had to be on it, otherwise I would miss my plane. 

Mon - My room was OK , but it was right next to a night club. So I didn't get much sleep. Give me a campsite any day. Anyway, I got my bus. I also got the bus from Faro to the airport. It stopped opposite the bus station, and it dropped me off on the main road, just before the airport entrance. Now I am just waiting for my plane to take me back home. Looking back on the last two weeks I have certainly covered some ground. It is 112km from Faro to Sagres, and the further you go, the better it seems to get. I've had no sickness or injury. I was bitten by mosquitoes on my first night in the pine forest. The bites cleared up on their own after a few days though. I enjoyed the campsites ( apart from Faro), All the beaches that I saw were clean with no sign of pollution. The food deserves a mention. Breakfast was usually coffee and rolls with a mixture of jam, sardines, pate, salami or yogurt ( Yoggi). I ate very few dairy products, coffee always black. A main meal would usually consist of soup and a fish dish. Fish was always good value. I tried steak and pork, but they were not as good. If you like spicy chicken, "piri piri" is worth a go. The Portuguese people that I met were open and friendly, small in stature, big on heart. they have a phrase that they use a lot "Nao faz mal " It doesn't matter. It rather sums up their attitude to life. Well it's been a great couple of weeks. Would I come back ? I've never traveled the same road twice. But there's another road with many turns and no signposts. Who knows where it leads.

I'll leave you with something that I wrote while on the road.

I am what I am, caught by the wind.

I've been to places where you've never been.

 I've sung to the heavens, and lain by the sea.

In all that I've done, I've just tried to be free.

High on a mountain or low in the sand.

Mine is the spirit that covers the land.

I am what I am it's hard to explain.

As high as a cloud , I fall like the rain.

As time runs by , maybe you will see.

At the end of the day , I've just tried to be free.