I actually did this south to north going from Porto Covo to Praia de São Torpes against the grain, as it were, to get to the starting point of the The Fisherman’s Trail [Trilho dos Pescadores]. After sitting for 2 hours in the car, 3 hours in a plane and a further 2.5 in a coach, it was a nice warm-up to the days ahead. From here it is all south to the Algarve.
Praia de Porto Covo, teeming with dem damn tourists.Ah! A bamboo forest! Where be those pandas?Haven’t time. A nudist attraction is just a distraction.That white block is the hotel. It is really rather nice. The bathrooms in the rooms would get an Esme gold star. And apparently, they have 2 pools – an outdoor one and an indoor one heated at this time of year. I got back, fancied a swim, was told the pool was open. Let’s say – had a refreshing swim. Then discovered the receptionist had meant the other one. The peeps looking at me from their balconies must have had a big lol.Lovely surfing spot. Big waves coming in from the Atlantic. Not sure how he’s going to manage on his bike tho.I had something to say about this spilt-off rock but it has gone from the pre-senile brain and won’t bloody well come back. Make up your own tag seems to be the way of it.It was going to segueway into these bastard baby ones. Don’t get old, children of mine.This beach is a firm favourite with the cowboys of the Yellowstone ranch. They hit this in their droves. Just look at the number of hitching posts.These plants are everywhere and they are just starting to bloom. Could be strewn with flowers in a few days.Now this is the way to climb hills. A gentle incline and a good firm sand path. Bliss.The start/end point is by that ugly power station. The websites I read all say to ignore this bit and start in Porto Covo, but how can you say you’ve done the Fisherman’s if you leave the first 10K off! I’m for completion. Anyway, so far it has been a nice trek.Not nearly as close to the drops as the Raad Ny Foillon.Do have their own sea-chomped landslides.Up the big dunes. The soft sand is a bitch and there is 10 miles of it tomorrow.Another packed beach. Robinson Crusoe and Man Friday are ahead. Boy! Are they in for a surprise when I catch up to them. The surfers come from far and wide to ride these monsters.Oops! Man Friday has returned to his natural cannibalistic state and polished off old Robinson. Now, he must tread alone.Tom Hanks’ clothes dryer outside the cave he once called home when he was castaway. Of course, he’s now long gone, taking his precious Wilson with him.I’m sure that these places are rammed in the season but 18 degrees and sunshine, it’s like a summer day at home, and all to myself.Just call in for a refresher, Alex and Esme. Whoops. Not so much of the Esme for a while.It is more than passing strange that everywhere I go the cliffs all have the same name – unstable.Only a couple of K to go.Why is the path going towards the road I wondered as I hit the barrier of this raging torrent. Leapt it like a 10 year old (much wider than it looks on this).Yes. The mad alien cactus like plants/animals.Last beach and there’s actually some peeps on this one.Here we are. The start of the Fisherman’s. Low key isn’t it?The lovely power station across the road. This beach is a big surfer draw. Not only are the waves big but they get flushed with hot water twice a day when they drain the cooling towers.A look back. Didn’t remember to do one of those self-images ya all want. Try tomorrow.Watching the sunset. Waiting for the taxi driver who can’t speak a word of English but has a wife who snatched the phone from him and can. Unfailing polite to me but each phrase was translated on the fly and held such venom that I wish I hadn’t called the guy and just humped it back in the dark.
