Travel with Manfred

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Copyright © 1998 by Manfred P.. All rights reserved.

Aug 13 through Sep 20, 1986 (Written on Dec 12, 1998)

The Long Walk

The Ultimate Way to Experience the Algarve

by

Manfred P.

Keywords: Portugal, Algarve, Albufeira, Armacao de Pera, Portimao, Lagos, Figueira, Zavial, tourist, travel trip report, travel log, travelogue.

Two years ago I made vacation in Spain, last year I was in Spain as well, and this year? One can never be in Spain too often, but a slight variation on the theme wouldn’t hurt. Together we picked Portugal as our destination. Markus, better known as Pez, gave me the honor to go on the road with me. I purposely picked a different travel companion each time I went on summer vacation. Such a trip, glued together every second for a month through the ups and downs of traveling, is the opportunity to turn a casual friendship into something special. Seen this way, summer vacation was not just a getaway but another friendship in the making.

Having done it now a few times before, hitch hiking was already a little bit of routine. I knew the do-s and don’t-s and what to expect. I remember that our hitching style was a bit different. I was the ambitious one, always wanting to push on; Pez was more relaxed. Crossing from Barcelona to Madrid was more time consuming than expected. It took us a total of 5 days to thumb from Linz, Austria, to Madrid. There we spent a night in the park. The roads are less traveled here so we decided to move on by train. Two day-rides in a train brought us from Madrid to Albufeira, Portugal.

Albufeira is situated on the south coast of Portugal, the famous Algarve. The Algarve coastline stretches from the Spanish border to Sagres, on the southwestern-most tip of Portugal. That is roughly 100 miles (150 km) of coast as the birds fly. Albufeira is in the middle of that coastline. To the east of Albufeira the coast is a rather flat, the beaches many miles long and sandy. To the west of Albufeira is the rugged coast that gives the Algarve its special charm. Between Albufeira and the tip of Portugal at Sagres there are no flat stretches. Here it is all rugged terrain, many headlands, and rocky cliffs.

We hadn’t planned anything for this trip. We didn’t read up, didn’t plan where to go in Portugal or what to do. Now we were standing in Albufeira and needed to decide. We opted for the rugged coastline. The coastal road was not built near the sea. That would have been a very winding road and very expensive. Instead, the road was in nearly all places 3 miles (5km) inland. That meant that from the road we wouldn’t and couldn’t see the beautiful cliffs. Our decision was to walk on foot right along the water in a westerly direction.

As two lone hikers we set out. One thing was easy. We certainly couldn’t lose our way. To our left, a spitting distance away, was the ocean. All we had to do was to follow the coast. The backpacks were rather heavy and during noontime it was scorching hot. The sun was burning down without mercy. I had to wear a long sleeved shirt to protect my skin. There was not much shade to hide from the sun. Trees were rare. It was semiarid. Brownish bushes with few leaves could be found but they did offer much shelter from the glowing sphere on the zenith.

We got up in the morning when we felt ready for the day, maybe 9 a.m. After a simple breakfast we started walking. We tried to break for lunch time and make a siesta to avoid the hottest hours of the day. Thereafter walking, walking, walking; at a casual pace. All day long we could feast our eyes on the extraordinary landscape. It was indeed a feast. It was never boring. The waves rolled in, crashed against the cliffs, and turned water into foam. The surf was never- ending and never the same. We walked most of the time up on the cliffs and 10 yards above the water on the headlands; occasionally we walked down into inlets.

Our path was everything but straight. Left, right, in, out, up and down. Many gullies and ravines had to be crossed. Some of them were even challenging due to steepness and the slippery loose gravel and dirt. The flora is desert-like. The soil is completely dry and dusty brown. I love the desert. To my subjective thinking and feeling I was surrounded by splendor. Most of the time we were far away from people. During our walk we usually never saw a single soul. We had the scenery to ourselves.

From time to time we came across dirt roads, perpendicular to the coastline, that led inland. These dirt roads usually lead to villages that are located on the paved road that runs parallel to the coast 3 miles inland. Whenever we came to such a dirt road we checked our food and beverage supply. If it was low we hoped that the road would lead to a nearby village. Food was usually not a problem, but there was no source of water by the ocean and we sweat a lot, we had to go shopping for water at least every other day, preferably every day. It was quite amazing how much I could drink in a single day. I could put away a whole gallon, 4 liters, of water in a day. No wonder the backpack was so heavy.

We slowly moved mile by mile, day by day westwards. We had no time schedule, no destination and no daily quota. When we felt like taking a break, we would rest and sit down under a bush or the rare shady spot. When we felt like walking, we walked. When we found a nice inlet, a bay, or a cove we put the tent up and spent a day or more on the beach. At these coves we just relaxed, we swam around in the azure blue clean ocean, watch the sky and did the daily chores like cooking, walking to the nearest village to get food and water and Pez cut my hair.

Days passed by, one at a time. Slowly without realizing it consciously, in three weeks of walking and hanging out at the loveliest inlets we had crossed the whole Algarve. We were in Zavial only 8 miles from Ponta de Sagres, the end of the Algarve so to speak. Only when we reached Zavial did we realize that we had hiked the whole western half of the Algarve, in total 50 miles as the birds fly. It wouldn’t surprise me if we did 150 or more miles of real distance; there was a lot of back and forth and left and right, not to mention the frequent supply trips to the villages. We had never intended to cross the Algarve on foot, but now we had done it. It felt good. I proposed to also hike the last 8 miles to Ponta de Sagres. Pez, however, felt that we would do this just so that we could say, "we did it all the way, down to the last inch". That did not qualify as a reason for him. He said we should do it only if we wanted to do it and if there is a superior motive. Since we were happy where we were, we skipped the last handful of miles.

At a few places we spent more time than at others. Among the highlights are also a couple of places, Armacao de Pera and Zavial, that are not remote and reachable by car or boat. About half an hour walking west of the small town of Armacao de Pera are several inlets. Some have a trail leading down from the cliffs; others can only be reached by boat. The sand is light. The beach is no longer than 70 yards. The encircling cliffs give a lot of shade and make it very comfortable. We had our tent here for a few days and it was a great place to sleep in, given the fact that the sun didn’t reach the tent until late in the morning. The cooler morning hours had to be savored. During daytime people and tourists from Armacao de Pera came by, mostly by boat. In the evening we had the beach again to ourselves. One of the tourists was snorkeling and harpooning. He caught a squid and gave it to us for dinner. This animal life was wasted though. We didn’t know how to cook it and it ended up in the ocean again. Maybe some larger fish had some appetite for squid.

Zavial was the only longer stretch of beach we found. It was a few hundred yards long. We met a few hippie-like Germans here. In the east cliffs formed the end of the beach. The cliffs had some caves. Not really caves, but the ocean has undermined the rocks. In these caves people slept side by side in their sleeping bags. Man-sized rocks interrupted the beach at various places. At the western end of the beach was a beach restaurant serving simple food and cool beverages. The main dishes were chicken and sardines. Our favorite drink is of course cold beer. Pez and I put our tent up in the middle of the beach. Since most of these hippie-generation people stay at the beach for a while we made casual friends quickly. You see the same people all day long. We did the usual: played with the waves, engaged in discussions in the beach restaurant, played Frisbee and Frisbee golf and strolled around in the neighborhood. We spent some time with a German lady who initially thought I am a right-wing extremist because I was wearing a military-green shirt. The first discussion cleared that misunderstanding. In order to not always eat in the same place we walked to the nearest beach restaurant away from this beach. She was very politically engaged and we carried some political discussions. I remember her telling us about the various demonstrations, peaceful and not-so-peaceful, that she participated in and what feelings she felt during them.

One day the rumor started going around that there will be a big party somewhere out in the pampas, in nowhere-land. Soon that was the talk of the whole beach. But nobody seemed to know exactly where and exactly when. I was excited. Then one late afternoon it started to happen. We met some other women that had a car and would leave for the party in an hour. We could get a ride. We stopped in the nearest town, Figueira. There we bought a couple of wine bottles from the restaurant owner. Next we were on some dirt road and I had no clue where we are going. The dirt road forked several times and we were rather guessing than knowing where to go. Despite all of that uncertainty we eventually spotted some soft small light in the darkness of the night. As we got closer we could recognize a simple one-story building and a few cars parked in the front. We had to be right; chances of finding any building in this wildness are slim. Yes, we were right. The rumor was that the building at one point in time belonged to the Moon sect. Inside already a dozen people sat in a circle on the floor. The building was very basic, concrete floor and walls. Beside the living room there was the kitchen with a wooden stove and maybe a third room. Someone was baking thin pizza-like bread on large steel plate. It was well seasoned and went well with the wine. More people dropped in until we had two dozens people filling the living room. Conversation went on in small places. German mixed with English and Spanish. We were mostly hanging out with the German crowd. Wine bottles, joints and bread slices were passed around.

We sat around and chatted for hours. The woman that brought us here prepared for leaving sometime in the middle of the night. But her car was pretty full with people and only one extra person could fit. Pez took the last seat. It was no problem, another woman was leaving about the same time and I got a ride with her. The two cars set out together but minutes later we had lost sight of each other. A while later we had not only lost the second car but also our way. We got out and I looked at the sky. I knew from the night before that the Milky Way ran in a north- south direction. The sky was clear and the stars were bright. The Milky Way was again easy to spot and with it I could figure out where south was. We then tried to follow that direction and sure enough it led us, as planned, to the paved coastal road. From here we could find Figueira and from there our beach. It was in the wee hours of the morning and it was already twilight. My chauffeur was so drunk that when we got out of the car at the dusty parking lot she urinated right in the middle of the parking lot.

When the sun tickled my nose and it was hot I couldn’t sleep anymore I got up. I strolled up and down the beach and checked the beach restaurant, but there was no sight of Pez. He must have had a very interesting night I figured. He showed up at lunch time. They had lost their way too. After going in circles they gave up and spent the night in the pampas. I don’t remember if they slept inside the car or on the dirt road, but I do remember that it wasn’t a very comfortable night for them.

The walk from the beach to the nearest store was about an hour one way. Occasionally we got a lift. The first time I did it barefoot. That was the first and last time without shoes. I got blisters. We got a lot of exercise walking this road daily. One night we strolled back that very road in the dark. As we passed a hilltop we could suddenly hear classical music. It was surreal. It was dark, no house for miles. Was it just a dream? Where did the music come from? The music was classical and orchestral with a slight southern touch. I don’t know classical music well. Hence, I can’t describe it, but it was dreamlike with so much body and individual elements to it. In seconds the mood changed. I haven’t been touched by music in such a gripping way for a long time. The music shook my soul. We silently tiptoed closer and quietly sat down. We intensely listened to the concert. Music filled the air and in my memories the music was coming from all directions. In reality the music came from a parked car that had both doors open and was parked next to a tree. Listening to this music I felt like having received a cherished present.

We loved it in Zavial so much that we stayed there until we ran out of time. We hitched back from Figueira, Portugal, to Linz, Austria, in 5 days. I remember the German who gave us a lift all the way from the Portuguese border to France. He was a car dealer. He had disconnected the odometer on this Citroen. This way he could drive the car to Portugal and back and still sell the used car with very low mileage.

There is no better way to see and explore the Algarve than on foot. We had seen more or less every single square yard of the coastline. Our souls could enjoy the bays and the tiny beaches hidden between the cliffs. Some were unreachable, some invited to a bath and a relaxing swim, and others were big enough to offer space for our tent even at high tide. For my part, I can also say that I got just as much pleasure from the desert headlands. It was a long walk. But it is the ultimate way to get a prolonged feeling for the Algarve that touches you deeply.