Time: 5 days |

Distance: 77.5km (map here) |

 

This is our Fishermen’s Way blog, the second post from walking the Rota Vicentina in Portugal. You can find the first one here and our Slow Travel Guide to the Rota Vicentina coming soon…

So far on the Rota Vicentina it’d been all windmills and woodland, walking inland in South West Portugal. But when we reached the Atlantic Ocean we planned to switch to the coastal trail, the Fishermen’s Way. (Or sometimes it’s called Fishermen’s Trail. Not sure why?)

Not gonna lie, this is why we had decided to walk the Rota Vicentina in the first place. We secretly wanted a bit of unknown, and the Fishermen’s Way winds through some of the most deserted parts of Alentejo and the Algarve. Just miles of rugged cliff edge, all wild beach and crag and dune the whole way. To us, a dream.

Fishermen's Trail, Fishermen's Way

Fishermen's Trail, Fishermen's Way

Fishermen's Trail, Fishermen's Way

We didn’t really know how difficult or not it’d be of course. We had (as usual) absurdly large bags, to the point where a hotelier had laughed in our faces saying, ‘Courageous my friends!’ But hey, it couldn’t be more difficult than the Alps right?

The trail began properly at the village of Porto Covo, which to us seemed the definition of a fisherman’s village. Tiny, tiny white cottages lined a square with palm trees swooshing in the sea breeze. We camped there and set off early the next morning, so excited to begin.

Fishermen's Way, Fishermen's Trail

Portugal in February

 

And we were blown away. Let it be officially known: the Fishermen’s Way out of Porto Covo is stunning. We were walking on silvery marram grass cliffs, and the jutting edges of the coastline stretched out endlessly ahead, partly hidden by salty sea mist curling off the crashing waves.

It was more beautiful than that description though, more beautiful than any photo. It was huge and all-enveloping.

Fishermen's Way, Fishermen's Trail

Fishermen's Way, Fishermen's Trail

But also pretty slow. The trail sometimes dwindled to a walking boot wide, diving down all kinds of crazy coves and caves. We hauled ourselves up rocks with ropes, which was both fun and a little bit tricky. (Yeah, turns out we’re not that fit. Did it matter that much though? Not really).

We eventually hit some wide flat sandy beaches, which glittered gold in the sunshine. They were completely deserted and we walked in the surf, pretty damn delighted with the whole thing.

Fishermen's Trail, Fishermen's Way

A day in, we miscalculated the walk. It wasn’t long, but we hadn’t factored in one thing: The Dunes. That’s right, in our mind they soon became capitalised: a Thing to be Reckoned With.

Beyond Porto Covo we sank ankle deep in sand and slowed to a trudge, cursing the 5000 bits of tent equipment we were carrying. We arrived into camp at dark, late and dog tired.

Look, this almost always happens at some point walking. Something that feels like a bad decision, a waste of effort, or just unlucky. It can be challenging. You’re walking everywhere, y’know?

But honestly: we never want to stop. We know the hard bits always –always– lead on to exciting things, and brighter days.

And this Fishermen’s Way: one minute we were watching fishermen and briny little seadogs chugging out in their boats, and strolling through their fishing sheds and cottages; the next we were craghopping,  spotting storks and their nests on the rocks.

Fishermen's Way, Fishermen's TrailIt kept changing too: dunes gave way to craggy rocks, sticking out from the shore like broken teeth. And as we walked on, the ground changed too, going a weird Mars red. The cliffs shelved off dramatically, hundred feet drops. ‘Not for people with vertigo!’ signs scream.

One evening, walking late, we diverted and walked down a 200 step staircase to a little beach, just to watch the sunset hit the rocks towering around us.

I could tell you what it felt like, or what we were doing or saying, but in those moments it doesn’t really matter at all. You could be anybody, or nobody at all, because all there is is the indifferent sea and the wind and the rust red cliffs, and you’re pretty temporary in all that. It’s a weird, awesome thought.

Fishermen's Way, Fishermen's Trail

Fishermen's Way, Fishermen's Trail

The unpronounceable Odeceixe was our final destination to join up with the Historical Way again and finish the Fishermen’s Trail. Odeceixe Bay is a huge sweeping beachland, and a complete highlight of the trail.

Odeceixe, incidentally, is also where our hotel host promptly forgot we were coming. We’ve now been travelling long enough to not find this particularly concerning though, we just sat in the pastelaria while frantic Portuguese telephone conversations were transacted over our heads.

We saw just glimpses of Odeceixe –  windmills and picturesque streets. Instead we were eventually driven up to a villa in the hills, given fresh linen, a heater, and left to it.

Fishermen's Way, Fishermen's Trail

Fishermen's Way, Fishermen's Trail

And in this part of Portugal, and on this here Fishermen’s Way? Being left to it is just fine by us.

Our final journal entry about the Rota Vicentina in Portugal is coming up next on the blog. Have you read our first?

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