The Rota Vicentina (2022)
Impressive cliffs and a carpet of flowers in beautiful Portugal
The Rota Vicentina insouthern Portugal is a network of hiking trails consisting of a fair number of day hikes, the Camino Histórico (Historical Way) and the Trilho dos Pescadores (Fisherman’s Trail). The first runs through the interior before it turns towards the shore, the second route rust along the shore in it’s entirety. Greedy as I am, I will be hiking both of them.
Day 1: Santiago do Cacém – Moinhos do Paneiro, 21 km
Travelling is stressful. Usually I only relax when I set foot on a hiking trail and am able to follow the way markings without a care. Today is different. Much later than intended I arrive in Santiago do Cacém. The morning bus listed on the Portugese journey planner turns out to be a school bus and I am in the village where the Camino Histórico starts around 14.00 hours. And once outside the bus station the red and white markings of the Camino are nowhere to be found. The guide book is no help. The maps in the booklet are not detailed enough to hike on and the route description is from the era people still used a compass. ‘Go southwest’, it says. I’m more into right and left. Fortunately there’s a street name in the route description and Google Maps comes to the rescue. Through narrow streets with small, slippery tiles and cheerfully colored houses I hike upwards. At some kind of castle, of which I can only see the battlements and a tower, I finally discover the familiar red white markers next to a red yellow way marks from a day hike. I have now idea where the route comes from, but now that I’ve found it, it’s easy to follow. I descend through a park with a swimming pool and a football field. I am hot already and drink water from a tap, so I don’t have to tap into my own supply. Along a vegetable garden I see the remains of a aqueduct, carried by graceful arches. The route meanders across sandy paths an forest roads, although there are mostly low shrubs and numbered cork trees which have been debarked up to eye level. The ground in between the trees has been plowed, rather than fell all the trees to make an arable field, the farmer respects nature and works around the trees. How special. I have a decent pace, constantly aware my phone is almost dead and I still have to call the hostel. We have agreed to meet in the hamlet Moinhos do Paneiro at 19.00 hours, where a shuttle to the hostel in Sonega will be waiting, which is 6 km of trail. I won’t be making that, not after the time I’ve lost in Santiago do Cacém.
I try to put it out of my mind and enjoy the hike. Now and again there are ruins of houses and farms, skeletons of walls on flat pieces of ground. Next to one of them a heard of goats with impressively turned horns is grazing. Just past a dilapidated farm which is still in use I pass by the ruins of a 15 century monastery. Only a few walls are still standing, the arched windows filled in with bricks. The landscape becomes more open and I struggle in the heat. How much I would have loved hiking here in March, when it was cooler. But corona threw a wrench in the works and I had to postpone my vacation.
Eventually I reach the windmills of Moinhos do Paneiro around 19.30 hours, now a hostel on a hill surrounded by… nothing really. There’s no village, no other houses, only that one, luxury hostel in the middle of nature. There’s no one waiting for me. I enter the hostel, where a group of English hikers are just eating diner. Although I’m not a guest, I sit down, charge my phone and drink some water. The female owner is a darling and calls Sonega hostel. A mere 15 minutes later I am collected by an elderly Portugese lady who doesn’t speak a word of English. We drive to Snega, where I have the hostel all to myself.
Day 2: Moinhos do Paneiro – Cercal do Alentejo, 20 km
Today my vacation finally starts for real. Relaxed hiking, no stress and not having to be anywhere on a set time. The owner of Sonega hostel drives me back to the trail and drops me off at the foot of the sandy road leading to the mills. It’s still early and not very warm yet, but the raging sun and blue sky promise a searing heat. The route continues across sandy roads and low shrubs with white blooming roses. Portugal is much greener than I expected. I didn’t really have an idea of what Portugal looked like beforehand, but my subconscious prejudices about the country prove untrue. I hear a stonechat, which sounds like to pebbles ricocheting against each other. A cuckoo flies over and lets his loud calls roll across the landscape. Along the farm roads cows are grazing in between the shrubs and I see a large pond where they can drink. A cheerful farmer tries for some small talk, but he only speaks Portuguese, a language of which I only speak a few words. Now and again there’s a bit of tarmac, but only to get from one farm road to another. In the village Vale das Éguas life seems hard. Rusty fences and junk lies in front of a shed pealing white paint. A small café is closed still. After the village the landscape becomes more rural, arable fields with tall grass, or are it low wheat stalks? In the middle of the field there’s three striking trees, something I always enjoy. I rest in the shadow of a tree, it’s a lazy day today after all. After that I continue through a tunnel of graceful trees, which offer welcome shade. I hike on to a reservoir, Barragem de Campilhas and cross the lake across a dam. From there it’s not far to Cercal do Alentejo, even though it feels much longer because of the heat. I want to stop for a drink every ten minutes. The colorful meadows also make me stop often. This many flowers are unusual in the Netherlands by now. The green deserts that count as meadows there are purely functional. Flowers have no place there. That’s weed, from which nothing can be gained. How happy a whole yellow and white flower covered hill makes me. What a wealth, compared to our poverty. That, much to my enjoyment, there’s a wooden bridge across a stream and a few meters of grassy path. It’s to only bit of true hiking trail on the route, which mainly consists of farm roads. I put in a lot of kilometers, but it doesn’t feel like a true hike. I look longingly at the hills and mountains on the horizon. Eventually I hike into Cercal do Alentejo and settle on a terrace next to the church. Like the other hikers already there I get an ice cream. I’ve earned it.
Day 3: Cercal do Alentejo – Odemira, 43 km
I know I can do it, but why I thought a double stage would be a good idea I can’t remember. Especially with this searing heat it will be a challenge. At the recommendation of a German hiker I’ve downloaded the Komoot app and the GPS-tracks of the next two stages. In Cercal do Alentejo the route diverges. The Camino Histórico continues inland to São Luis and Odemira, a different branch turns to Porto Covo and there connects to the Trilho dos Pescadores. The junction is well marked, but the GPS provides me the peace of mind I long for as a worrier. The route starts with a fair bit of tarmac along gardens where the orange trees are full of orange fruit. When I get to turn onto a sandy road, there are gently sloping green hills with cows and fr off in the distance a large city with a vaguely blue ocean behind. Now and again there’s some welcome shade and despite the heat there are plenty of puddles on the road. I shorten the route somewhat by skipping a detour to a waterfall. Portugal is not a country I associate with waterfalls anyway, but after the Fimmvörðuháls in Iceland the bar is high. The route has been waymarked almost foolproof and I hike on quite nicely on the wide farm roads, but despite the large distance, I do stop now end again to enjoy a beautiful rock formation or plant. There are eucalyptus plantations too, a tree introduced in Portugal in the 1930’s for the paper industry to give the economy a boost, but which has mostly displaced the local flora and fauna. By now about a quarter of the Portuguese forests consists of eucalyptus plantations. The natural forests are much smaller, but much more divers and attractive. The route is a variation of forest and open field, shade and heat. I cross São Luis, a small village with the typical Portuguese white houses with blue windows and doors. The colorful houses radiate a kindness and pride which is refreshing. Outside the village there are vegetable gardens which look quite dry and then the familiar wide farm roads. Again the many flowers make me happy. This is what a real, natural field looks like. This is what it is supposed to be like everywhere. For the first time I cross a stream and a while later I am hiking parallel to the water, which is being protected by trees and shrubs. There are ferns and there’s actually a small hiking trail to a wooden bridge and a picknick bench. I even think I hear a kingfisher, but the stream seems to shallow for this bright hunter. A brick wall next to a rockface is just high enough to sit on and rest for a bit, because I’m getting pretty tired. The rock is hollow and in the small cave the water is covered with a strange, fluorescent layer. Algae or something unnatural? When I continue the hike, small lizards scatter before my feet. One stays put long enough to take a picture. They’re not as big as the ones on Corsica, but they’re still a joy to behold. I don’t encounter other hikers along the way, but do see a number of farmers and goats. The afternoon is towards it’s end when I encounter the Mira, a wide river which runs along with me to the village. I am pretty beat and just before the last hill even have to throw up, a sure sign I pushed myself to hard. I only throw up some water, as because of the heat I have not been able to eat properly. Cans of coca cola give me some energy along the way, but a decent meal would be better. At a gas station with a few restaurants I enter a café and order an ice cream. I can’t even finish it, but the farmer is kind enough to order me a taxi. The hostel turns out to be in the municipality of Odemira, not in the town itself. Oops!
Day 4: Odemira – Odeceixe, 36 km
I fail to order a taxi in Portuguese and so the owner of the hostel drives me back to Odemira. There I take my sweet time to admire the artwork on the roundabout and lather myself with sunscreen. The route starts out with a beautiful promenade along the river with wooden fish docks protruding above the water. Across a sturdy bridge I cross the Mira and on the other side there’s a gravel road past floodplains and meadows, the river hidden in the distance. Then the route turns from the water along some farms and for the first time I meet some cars on the sandy road. When I rest a few motor bikes drive past out for a ride. Here too there’s a stream now and again, encompassed by green trees and shrubs, an oasis in the scorching heat. At one of the farms there’s a picknick spot in the shade with inviting benches made out of pallets and a camping chair. There’s a bell and if you ring it you can order a drink. For a moment I am tempted, but I don’t want to wait if I’m heard or not. I cross the Ribeira São Tetonio a number of times, a small stream and for a moment a truly feel like a hiker. Small grassy paths, a wooden bridge. This is what it’s supposed to be like. At an irrigation canal I take a small break and then start a short climb through an eucalyptus plantation. A bit further there’s a cactus farm and I wonder what this prickly plant is used for. The break has done wonders for me, but still I feel my body is having a hard time. The lack of food and the heat are conspiring against me. For the first time I seriously contemplate taking a taxi and skipping the stage to Odeceixe. That would be a first in all my hiking vacations and I know myself well enough that I will regret it. I postpone the decision until I have rested in São Tetonio. The village has a beautiful blue and white church, a café with a fair sized terrace and a square with a large number of benches, but I am especially taken with the fountain on the square. I lie down on the wide edge and stick my head in the water. Wonderful. In the supermarket I buy some yoghurt and coca cola, which I work inside me slowly. After a well earned and long break I stick my head in the fountain one more time and hike on. Only 17 km, I can handle it. And I’m glad I didn’t skip this stage, there are actually hiking trails, forest trails with lots of downed trees. Fun! Eventually I end up in the open field again, farmland and I’m hiking swiftly. In an indentation which is often boggy stepping stones are waiting for me. Distracted by my surroundings I miss a way mark, something I discover only after about 2 km. I enter a village I don’t remember seeing on the guide book’s map. The Rota Vicentina app is worthless, it shows me as being north of São Tetonio, while in reality I have hiked south. I download the gpx of this stage after all into the Komoot app and hike the whole 2 km back. I really do without this today, but it makes me all the more determined to make it. The route meanders in between the hills and for the first time there’s streams with stepping stones and its wonderfully green. Enjoying myself is hard though, I’m simply too tired by now. The steep climb through an eucalyptus plantation is tiring. It looks like a war zone, the hills barren and naked, with small terraces waiting for new crops. I cross the Ribeira Cerrado a number of times and hike along the Ribeira Seca. The last stretch goes along the wide river Seixe, a calm river with wide fields surrounding it. I am in Odeceixe around 19.30 hours and punch in the code of the little box containing the hostel’s front door key. After a wonderfully cool shower I want to get something to eat, but the supermarket is closed already. Fortunately there’s some kind of festival going on and in a side street I discover a pancake booth.
Day: 5 Odeceixe – Arrifana, 32 km
The festival continued until midnight and even after that I couldn’t fall asleep. Not completely awake I head out in the morning for the last double stage. Through the narrow streets and steps of the village I climb up steeply to the Mediterranean grain mill, a very different design than I’m used to from the Netherlands. Low and stubby, with thin, fragile blades. Along the suburbs I hike out of the village, a long unpaved road along rough bushes and pastures with red cows all sporting a bell. Then the route becomes more fun, with small trails instead of tracks and farm roads. The route meanders to and fro and that elevates my enjoyment even further. There’s even a pine forest and for a moment I relish the soft ground underneath my feet. There’s a light veil of clouds, causing it to be less hot than the previous days. Several villages appear on the horizon and the route twists and turns, so that I am never sure which is my destination. Then I enter Rogil, an elongated village, and stop at the very first café, which has only just opened. I order two coca cola and a pastry, but that feels like a brick and I can stomach only a few bites. I put it in my backpack and save it for later. A bit further on there’s a supermarket and get a yoghurt drink, which gives me enough energy for the next five km to Aljezur trough open field with low shrubs and gorse in bloom. The route is different than indicated in my guide book, I am supposed to hike along an irrigation canal but don’t see any open water. Right outside the village there’s a picknick spot with benches along a murmuring stream, the Ribeira de Aljezur. I cannot resist temptation and decide on a long break, lying lazily in the grass. After 45 minutes I hike on, fortunately it’s not as hot as the previous days and there’s a fresh wind from the coast. In Aljezur I have to do some route finding, because several trails intersect in the village and apparently each stage ends at a bus stop, even if that’s not the most logical spot for the next stage. Thanks to the GPS I find my way back to the turn I missed before. I pass by a nice statue of Henry the navigator, who was not an explorer himself, but financed many journeys and instigated the Portuguese Age of Discovery. I climb to the church and descend on the other side. There I encounter a small structure of which I would have never known the importance if there had not been an information sign: the Fonte das Mentiras, the fountain of lies. According to the sign the structure has a Moorish origin which goes back to the 10th century, but what exactly it is, does not become clear. According to Wikipedia it’s a fountain (or source) belonging to a castle. The fountain is mentioned in multiple legends, the main one about a Moorish princess who fell in love with a Christian. During the conquest of Aljezur in 1249 they supposedly fled through this fountain, causing the Christina warriors to discover the fountain led to the castle and taking the keep.
At a hamlet full of red houses I ascend on a steep road and sweat profusely. Once at the top there’s a bit of tarmac and then more hills with low shrubs. It’s a beautiful landscape, in a modest way. It’s not spectacular but green and that’s enough. A bit later I see the ocean for the first time. I hike into Arrifana, but don’t follow the way marks to the end of the stage. I don’t hike any further than the hostel where surfers and hikers share the rooms. There’s also a café serving a mean hamburger. I can eat again!
Day 6: Arrifana – Carrapateira, 24 km
When I wake up in the morning it’s clouded. I decide to take only 1 liter of water instead of the usual 2,5. Halfway on this stage there’s a café where I can supplement my water. Lazily I get going around 09.00 hours. I follow the way marks back through the hills outside Arrifana to the junction to Carrapateira. Again the route consists of a wide sandy road, low shrubs and trees. Then the route turns to the ocean and I see my first cliff, with a solitary rock a bit further out in the water. The closer I come, the more impressive the cliff and I keep taking pictures. At the foot of the cliff no sandy beach but increasingly smaller rocks, as if the coast is slowly crumbling into the ocean. In the distance, the coastline fades into a misty blue, the breaking waves a white ribbon to the horizon. When I descend to a sandy beach, two hikers are just breaking up their tent. Wild camping is officially not allowed in Portugal, but is done by many hikers. I'm glad I chose hostels this time. Early in the morning I am already looking forward to the shower at the end of the day. Immediately after the beach I climb quite steeply to the next cliff. It's slow, but steady. Fortunately, once at the top it’s flat again. I come across the bed & breakfast described in the guide book. The kiosk where you can eat and drink is open, but I walk past it. A little further on should be the Nomad Café, the distance is more convenient. A thought runs through my head: what if the café is closed? But no, I trust the guide book. The café will undoubtedly still be there.
When I approach the hamlet of Monte Novo, I suddenly see the green-blue stripes of a Fisherman's trail variant. This variant is not described in my guide book and I stick to the Historical Way. From Odeceixe the two routes run parallel and there are only a few variants of the Fisherman's Trail. Although I would like to hike everything, I have to make choices and I want to be able to say that I have at least one trail all the way. Just before the hamlet the route turns and I see a sign for the Nomad Surf Camp. The café will probably be there too. But as I approach a group of houses, a sign indicates that only surf camp guests are welcome. Oops! When I reach an asphalt road with a bus stop, I know that the café really doesn’t exist anymore. And I have very little water with me. It is about 9 km to Carrapateira. I can make it, but it won't be fun without water. At the last farm before the open fields I walk to the iron gate. I hear voices, so there must be someone. I bang against the iron with my trekking poles. It takes quite a while before someone comes, but luckily that man immediately fills my water bottles. Reassured, I walk on and rest for a while in a pine forest. A café is open in Bordeira and I plop down on the covered terrace. One by one, more hikers enter, enjoying the shade and a beer or soft drink. After a while I continue well rested past a water reservoir with azure blue water. From my high position in the hills I see a wide sandy beach in the distance, which I slowly walk towards. I arrive at a road and walk along fields with an exuberant color richness of flowers. Carrappateira is located on a hill and has a small center with a pleasant square. There I meet Moritz again, a German hiker with whom I shared a room in Arrifana. He also hikes the Fisherman's Trail, but has to skip the last leg to Sagres due to time constraints. We chat until my hostel opens and I can take a shower and wash my clothes.
Day 7: Carrapateira - Vila dos Bispo, 22 km
This time I set out with the full 2.5 liters of water, even if it is only 22 km. I climb out of the village and end up on a ridge overlooking the beach and the ocean. The wind is blowing very hard and the wind is tugging at my trekking poles and backpack. Fortunately, I quickly descend and follow a winding path through the valleys. After a few kilometers there is actually a real grassy path between the bushes and I immediately feel a lot more energetic. I missed this. Unfortunately it doesn't take long and I'm soon back on a wide, unpaved road. Then I come to a junction with a high water variant. It hasn't rained the last few days and I follow the normal route, hoping for streams to cross. But alas, the few fords are dry and even the specially constructed bridge has become useless. Huge cacti grow along the road and again a rainbow of flowers. A valley further I come across a number of holiday homes, including a round yurt. The part through Pedralva is only short, but like in any village I enjoy the light colors and the neat, narrow streets. I pass the café by, because I have everything I need. A little outside the village, when the GPS tells me I am exactly halfway, I plop down in the shade of a tree and lie comfortably in the grass with my head on my backpack. If it wasn't so windy, I could fall asleep. I'm a little way off the road and several hikers pass by without seeing me. Rested, I climb up to a wind farm, where at least six windmills turn slowly in the wind. It doesn't look pretty, but it doesn't bother me too much either. The route ascends and descends further and at a heathland I encounter a herd of goats, apparently without a shepherd. A little later a tired dog walks up to me and trots into the bushes in the direction of the goats. The last part of the route runs straight to Vila do Bispo, recognizable from afar by the high water tower. Just before the village I meet Moritz, who walked a Fisherman's Trail variant today. For him the adventure ends here and in the village we say goodbye to each other. On the terrace of a café I grab my GPS to see where my hostel actually is, only to discover that it was about 2 km back, right along the route. Oops! I knock back my coke and then walk back along the road until my GPS tells me to be at the yellow house. Again I wash my shirt and socks off until the water is not so brown anymore.
Day 8: Vila do Bispo – Sagres, 21 km
For the second time I hike along the road into Vila dos Bispo. Before I pick up the Historical Way again, I first stop by Lidl, which also sells delicious sandwiches here. Not the ham-cheese croissants that we have in the Netherlands, but other delicacies that make me curious. I put the sandwiches in my backpack and follow the app back to the route, struggling against the wind. A dark sky threatens to my right and for the first time I believe that it sometimes rains in Portugal. The route follows a slightly undulating road out of the village, which becomes unpaved after almost 2 km. It's a wide country road, but I do have a view of the ocean now. In the field I see a special structure and I wonder what it is exactly. A large and a smaller round metal circle on top of each other. Given the antennas, it will undoubtedly have something to do with communication, but what and why? A mystery.
At a junction with the Fisherman's Trail I do something unusual. I choose the FT variant. According to the guide book, the Historical Way today contains almost 6 km of asphalt which does not sound attractive at all. The Fishermans Trail initially leads me on a wide dirt road, but then comes nice and close to the ocean. Because of the strong wind that constantly throws me off balance and attacks me from different directions, I don't get too close to the edge of the cliffs. I get just close enough to take nice pictures and that's exciting enough. It's old-fashioned enjoyment and I realize how much I've missed that the past few days: narrow hiking trails where no car can reach. Mentally, that feels a hundred times better than the farmland roads of the Historical Way. Twice I have to go around a gorge that cuts deep into the coast, at the first a ladder of one meter has been replaced by sturdy stairs. At times route finding is also challenging, the path consists of loose rocks and I am struggling to find my way. So many paths have been made that the route is difficult to follow. I stop so often to check my GPS, that at one point I take my phone out of my backpack and put it in my pocket. On the far tip of a cliff I discover a lighthouse, but it takes a long time before it comes closer. I cover the last kilometers with a Dutchman who lives in Lagos and is also hiking the Fishermans Trail. We follow the road to Cabo de São Vicente, the lighthouse with a restaurant. Here it is pretty busy with tourists, who all have themselves photographed in the oversized chair at the foot of the lighthouse. After a long break in which I enjoy the Lidl sandwiches, I follow the road back towards Sagres. The Historical Way ends at the lighthouse, but the Fisherman's Trail continues to Sagres and then on to Lagos. My hostel is in Sagres and there are no buses. Fortunately it is only 6 km and with the Fisherman's Trail I also have a nice trail. I follow the coastline past an old fortress and two mysterious military installations until I enter Sagres. Once showered and rested, I start to have doubts. Tomorrow a well-deserved rest day or follow the Fisherman's Trail further towards Lagos?
Day 9: Sagres – Salema, 20 km
In retrospect I have regrets. Regret that I prioritized the Historical Way over the Fisherman's trail when planning my hiking vacation. Because it is fantastically beautiful. I feel myself getting lighter, a joy settles in me and I'm already having more fun on the first kilometers than on all the days of the Historical Way put together. It helps that it is cloudy and fairly cool. That I carry a daypack with only some provisions instead of my full backpack. I feel light and free.
Through the main street of Sagres I follow the markings past eateries and souvenir shops. The route dives into a side street past a derelict factory, a Christ statue as the only part of the outer wall intact. Behind a hotel I reach a beach, Praia do Martinal and a little later Praia dos Bertolinhos. The route climbs up the cliffs. This is what I've been waiting for all along: little winding paths. The route is tough and quite technical, up and down cliffs, steep up and steep down. There is a pebble beach with white, round stones and a small lake along it where frogs croak loudly. On top of the cliffs I have a view of the ocean and the rocks off the coast in different variations. Hippies have set up camp at one of the sandy beaches. High in the hills there is music, others eat and drink near their tents. At a sandy beach there is a cafe and I stop for a drink. After all, it's a short stage today and I'm taking it easy. When I continue, the route alternates between cliffs and open fields with low grass, shrubs and flowers, wide dirt roads and wonderfully narrow winding paths. I also meet more hikers along the way. The Fisherman's Trail is more popular than the Historical Way and for good reason! At Praia das Furnhas the route has been diverted and goes a lot further inland than the GPS indicates. I think we avoid too steep a climb with it, because now we go up gradually over wide gravel roads. A group of mountain bikers nevertheless has a problem with it. The boy of the family gets off and pushes his mountain bike up. The route feels long and tough. Is it really only 19 km? Despite this, I feel completely satisfied when I walk into Salema. This is how a hiking trail should be.
Day 10: Salema – Lagos, 23 km
From the bus stop on the main road far outside the village I walk back to the Fisherman's Trail. It's been raining all morning and hiding under my umbrella I eat a late breakfast. I set out along the beach where the fishing boats are waiting for crew. A bit later, a man is feeding some cats. They don't seem to be stray cats, but I've seen them get food from animal lovers. I continue through the narrow streets of the village. For the first time I come across two graceful Lady Chapels, a large and a smaller one, right next to each other. Outside the village there is a hill to climb, but the trails are easier today. I don't have to scramble anywhere, although the ascent still demands a lot from my calves. The route winds over cliffs. At Burgoa I feel clay under my shoes and the cliffs have strange colors, red, green, grey. Very special. Between the houses there are narrow steps down to the beach. I eat the last cheese, which I really have to eat after almost two weeks. As I hike further the houses are never far away. A dark threatening sky is approaching and I hope to be able to dive into a restaurant in time. But no, the moment the downpour starts, I'm soaked in a few seconds. The cliffs are a vague blue veil because of the rain. In Luz I still go to a bar for lunch and to dry up. That works out for a long time and the route remains great. Just before Lagos do the heavens really open completely and it doesn't stop raining. The wind makes it difficult to take pictures from under my umbrella and it's beautiful here, with rocks in the sea forming an arc, hollowed out by the water from below. There are platforms to view points, but it is no fun staying out there. I walk towards a low building with a small lighthouse on it. Then I cross the city on my way to the end point. Near the harbor is a fortress that looks nice, but I'm too stingy to pay the 2,- entrance. I follow the canal along a wide boulevard, where there are countless stalls for tour boats and other tourist trips. They are empty, no tickets are being sold today. I cross a bridge to the train station, where the official terminus of the trail is. It's over without too much ceremony.
Day 11 Porto Covo – Vila Nova de Milfontes, 20 km
Fate is kind to me today. I don't wait for the only bus from Sagres to Porto Covo, but take the early bus to Lagos. And there the driver is chatting just long enough that I can still catch the 09:00 bus to Porto Covo. So I am not in the coastal village at 7.30 pm, but as early as 11.15 am. And while it has been raining all morning, the sky opens up completely before I arrive. I hesitate for a moment, but after the Historical Way I have had enough of double stages and why should I, if I can also hike today. I put on my backpack and follow the pleasant village street towards the ocean. I descend to a sandy beach strewn with rocks and stones, where the ocean licks my shoes as I walk around the oncoming waves. On the other side of the water I pull into the dunes. The loose sand makes walking difficult, but it's worth it. The view is fantastic. The hottentot fig, a low succulent that I've only seen blooming yellow so far, also has purple flowers here. The thick leaf has red tips, which creates a red carpet on the sand. I walk around gorges and cliffs, over pebble beaches where rainwater rushes to the ocean and a narrow path between the bushes and a low fence around a meadow. This trail is fun! The markings lead me to the beach, where I pass the island of Ilha do Pessegueiro off the coast. The stone remains of an old fortress, 'the fortress of Santo Alberto', stand out against the blue sky. Much more impressive is its mainland counterpart, the fortress of Pessegueiro. Sleek and almost modern in design, while it was completed at the end of the 17th century. The route passes the fortress by and continues along the coast, which remains made up of wild rocky beaches polished by the waters of the ocean. So different from the tame sandy beaches and dunes of the Netherlands. The trail briefly goes inland to avoid a piece of private land. I follow a wide dirt road behind the dunes before I see the ocean again. Someone made a cairn there. Fortunately there is only one, too many would disturb nature. The trail returns to the dirt road and an additional sign tells you that the next marking is only 3 km away. A good reminder, because if I don't see a marking for too long, I get restless. The road ends at Praia de Malhão, which is a popular and well-maintained beach with parking spaces at both ends. There are toilets, a hut to sit in the shade, decking and wooden fences in the low gorges that are supposed to prevent erosion. Past the beach there are again sandy paths along a carpet of Hottentot fig and over the rocks. At one gorge, I watch in admiration as the white swirling waters of the ocean come rushing in and crash against the rocks with a dull thud. Further on I meet my first storks off the coast, which use the rocks in the ocean to breed undisturbed. The sand makes the route tough and it is not fast. Fortunately, the route turns inland and the last kilometers there is a dirt road to the village, which is a lot easier. In the center a man sells homemade sandwiches from his trunk. I can't quite understand what the flavors are, but it turns out that I bought a cinnamon roll that I really enjoy. I am still in time for the bus to Porto Covo, although I am glad that the man at the information point warned me in advance that you can only buy tickets online and not from the driver
Day 12: Vila Nova de Milfontes – Almograve, 11 km
A day like today is why I came to Portugal and why I hike. What a lovely day. A very lazy day too. At 09.40 I take the bus to Vila Nova de Milfontes and around 10.30 I am just in time for the boat to the other side of the Rio Mira. The skipper is just a meter away from the dock, but luckily returns when I approach and picks me up. With this crossing I cut about four boring kilometers of the trail. I have no objections to a road walk, but a ferry is so much more fun, isn't it? There is a beach on the other side and at a restaurant I pick up the marked route again. In the beginning there is a gravel road along the dunes with a cycle path along it, later a sandy path along a large farmland with short, rough grass. I wonder what the land is used for, because leaving a field unused does not occur to me as a Dutchman. A little further on, cows graze: it’s a meadow. Then the route turns towards the ocean. Unlike yesterday, not the entire route runs right along the ocean. The trail regularly runs behind the dunes, where I enjoy real forest paths. There are no real trees, but the bushes are taller than me, so I call it forest. The bushes bend deeply over the path, forcing me to struggle under them with the backpack. There is also a bamboo grove and several streams. Just like in New Zealand, the maximum capacity is stated at the bridges, although one is so crooked that I never believe that you can cross it with four people at the same time. I enjoy the shade provided by the bushes as it’s very hot again. I tend to walk straight to Almograve in one go, but around 1 pm I get a bit faint. I rest in the sun, luckily there’s a cooling breeze. I pick up some more waste and eat the last cookies that I brought from the Netherlands that have now completely crumbled. After that it is not far to Almograve and the path is an easy country road. Again I meet many hikers on the way, Danes, Belgians and Scots. I share a room with no fewer than three Dutch girls and an Italian one and enjoy the sun behind the hostel
Day 13: Almograve – Zambujeira do Mar, 22 km
Dense fog hides the horizon. Still, I'm already lathering myself with sunscreen myself and go out in just a T-shirt. I first follow a loop around the village, which, according to the guide book you can easily skip. But it is a nice loop with narrow green paths that takes me to the beach. There I take a wrong turn, distracted by the beautiful view. I follow the cliffs along the beach, past tidal pools and over rocks until there is really no getting through. Back then, and as I expected I have to go up, up the cliff. After a short, steep climb I reach the top and it becomes flat. I walk on the sand to a road and then follow a dirt road along the ocean. Fishermen are standing on the rocks and one is carrying a plastic barrel full of small fish. It’s smooth hiking on that road and for the first time I am in a bubble, with walkers in front and behind me. The trail turns inland where there is truly a pine forest. Then back to the dirt road. The view of the ocean is beautiful and I see storks breeding in impossible places. Occasionally there are paths full of loose sand where it’s hard hiking, but it is still enjoyable. I cross the hamlet of Cavaleiro as I hike with a Dutch couple doing a day walk. After a wall of high bushes we reach the beach again, where a small lighthouse peeks from behind a low white building. It is the lighthouse of Cabo Sardão and it is strange that the lighthouse is behind the building and not in front of it, like other Portuguese lighthouses. Some therefore think that the builder accidentally turned the plans around 180 degrees. I rest in the sun on a bench at a lookout point and reapply the sunscreen. Then I continue again, right along the edge of the cliffs and impressive rock formations. The water is incredibly clear and I can see the bottom of the ocean. A cliff juts out into the ocean, forming a sagged triumphal arch. It seems only a matter of time before the rock breaks in half and forms two pillars. From the route a small path leads to a rocky outcrop and if I follow it, I see two storks breeding a little lower. I keep my distance so as not to disturb them, but can get close enough for a nice photo. After another stretch of dirt road along a beautiful flower field in which two storks walk around in search of food, I descend over a wooden staircase. I arrive at a fishing harbor where crab traps are piled high on a concrete boat ramp. I climb up to the hamlet of Entrada da Barca where I am reminded of the Wadden Islands. Like the beachcombers there, the fishermen decorate their houses with countless old buoys and fenders. Still pleasantly lazy, I rest briefly in the shade of a picnic area with a shelter. Then there is a long stretch along a road with fresh asphalt. It radiates heat and I feel dizzy, even though I have eaten and drunk enough today. Fortunately I can go back into the dunes for the last part over a wooden platform and the dunes are never boring. At a second platform I turn into the village where hostel Nature is the best hostel I have encountered on the Rote Vicentina.
Day 14: Zambujeira do Mar – Odeceixe, 19 km
The day starts gray and dreary. I descend on the promenade along the beach and climb up on the other side. Much to my delight I get to cross a stream, although that is actually far too easy for my liking. All morning there are narrow paths through bushes with low hanging branches, making me wetter than the rain. The water flows in streams along the path and sometimes there are planks. Fortunately there is sand again, after all it remains the Rota Vicentina. There is one dune pan in which the yellow flowering broom bush lights up the landscape like the sun. Strangely enough, it is always half the bush that blooms, the other half is brown and barren. Would that be like moss on a tree, only facing north?
For a long time, the route runs right past an animal park where zebras and ostriches graze. I pay less attention to the exotic birds than to the bushes that rain down on me every time I squeeze through them again. Before Azenha do Mar, part of the route is closed due to a landslide. Because the land is still unstable, there is a diversion over an asphalt road and a dirt road past a large farm with numerous fields that are heavily plowed. Back on the original route I walk along rocks and over cliffs. In the village I am meeting with Anat, an Israeli I know from the Kungsleden. She is hiking the Fisherman's Trail to the north and because we kept in touch via Facebook, we agreed to meet halfway through this stage. Because of the rain they started late and I have to wait a long time. The café isn't even open yet and I make myself comfortable on the covered terrace with another hiker. Finally, the café opens and I'm just enjoying a chocolate cake when Anat walks in with her trail family. We drink and chat for an hour and a half about walking and hiking plans, before we both continue in our own direction with the Rota Vicentina. Fortunately it has become dry and I can fully enjoy the narrow forest, mud paths and dunes. Finally, I look down from above at the Seixe, which flows across the beach into the ocean. After a number of country roads I am on the semi-paved road along the river, the road I follow for 4 km to Odeceixe. That's not boring. The river is varied and I discover heron that I only recognize in the photo by its black legs with yellow toes as a little egret. In the photo I also see that his wing is injured, the messy red feathers must have been bloodied. From afar I see Odeceixe creeping up against the hills. I now know my way around the village and this time I have a nice hostel right in the center. The walkers trickle in on the terrace. It will be a pleasant evening, but the last one. My Portuguese adventure is over. What a wonderful walking holiday this was!
Watch my YouTube video's of this hike here.