And here we stayed. We stopped for coffee, then two, which eventually turned to lunch. We ate nata too, served on a little wooden board. We spend the time people watching – locals come in and out, taking espresso at the bar or having bifana
(pork) rolls for lunch. We looked through the morning photos, maybe charge our camera a little. We chatted, we planned.
These few hours of rest most days are our secret. We avoid the harsh midday sun, we watch walkers come and go (there are a few dotted around), and the day slows comfortably.
As the afternoon wore on, we took our bags and explored a little bit of the Almograve village. Its blue-and-white prettiness looks a little Greek, like a hamlet you might find in the Cyclades. The sunshine begins to feel softer. By three it’s time to walk again, and we feel happy to haul the bags back on and set off.
In the afternoon we headed up onto the cliffs and the whole landscape lit up. It’s the perfect time to get up there, we realised. This part of the Portuguese coast is sandstone which has slowly oxidised, turning a blood red in the five o’clock light. It’s also eroded pretty dramatically, shelving away right next to us, which is a bit disconcerting, but it reveals all the rainbow layers in the cliff as we walked. A history of the land written into the rock.
Everything was orange, pink, pastel. The golden sunlight shafted through the sea spray unfurling up the cliffs. Seabirds wheeled over our heads lazily.
We were a bit agog, as you might be able to tell.
We ended bang on dusk, at the lighthouse of Cape Sardão which had glimmered in the distance the whole afternoon. We spend the night in nearby Cavaleiro, and the sea mist rolls in. The alarm is set again for the next morning. And then we remember to set the second one too. We were certainly tired at the end of the day, but it’s the most relaxed type, the most fulfilled type.
Another day would soon begin. But this was one good day.
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