A very long day but my final one so I decided to take my time, stop for coffee and lunch, and just amble along.
I immediately when off track thinking I could get up the cliff at the end of the beach. Which I did, but only by forging my own path for a while through the rough brush.
My next plan was to skirt the base of the cliffs and climb over the boulders where necessary. This was possible because the tide was going out and it would save me 4 or so down-ups. However, recently sea-free boulders are wet and slippery and I ended up on my arse. The final day and I finally fell.
Despite bad choices – again – and 8 hours on the trail, I enjoyed myself.
Heading down the hill again. Had to hump my luggage up to the reception because the electric cart boys don’t start until 8. The early sun lighting up the water.Hacked up the cliff at the end of the beach. Could have done with a macete. What’s happenin? A clowder of cats is heading my way. Walk of shame after a hard night maybe?Struggled a bit through the foliage but finally made it up off the beach. Bye Salema.I’m going down to the next beach to try and slip around the next few headlands. Idiot! What was it? “The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft agley.” Rabbie Burns.Still strange to see cactus growing wild and orange trees, of course. There is a beautiful smell on the cliffs this morning. It is a mixture of peach and lemon, quite strong even with the breeze.I imagine it was originally a red circle with a white slash but has faded with the sun. Much better than the signs we have. Seems to work also. I’d love to see them in our parks and such. But it be much too rude for our Dupper Politian sensibilities.I think I’ll stay way back from that edge. Half the hill has gone. The frigging way markers haven’t been adjusted. They still take you to the road no longer there. Thank Gawd! I saw the alt way up from here.Luz for lunch and a big climb after.Frig me! Another church.I don’t think I can get up off that beach so, climb it is, right up to that marker pillar.Perhaps a full stomach wasn’t the way to go. A nice town, but very busy even at this time of year, and way too many English accents.Lagos on the horizon but at least 5 miles to go. I’ve not seen any buildings that stick out, seem horrifically out of place eyesores, but there are two new high-rise blocks going up in Lagos and they were Obv miles back leaving Salema.Defo more turquoise. White sand from the softer cliffs no doubt.Lagos closer but I have one more peninsular to conquour.Back down today’s route. God! This place is full of tourists and they’ve mounted board walks everywhere for their poor old feeble legs (ageist now as well. Is peer-groupist a thing?)The Algarve curving away. Can’t see the Fisherman’s Trail ever extending that way.A giant boot hole to store your giant umbrella in.WTF! The V.M.’s been thieved. Bet it has been hoicked off to Malta. I hear that they are in short supply there.The old harbour watch tower with a working drawbridge.The castle’s barbican. Looks well worth a visit some other day.The main boulevard runs for miles by the water. Very nice but loads of peeps. Has a very French feel to it. Which one of you will soon know if plodding along the Seine. Somewhere in the distance is a footbridge across which is the train station. Jesus! These are the hardest miles.A copy of the Esperanza used by Bartolomé Díaz to go round the Cape of Good Hope, or Cape of Storms as he most aptly named it. Same sort of caravel that our friend Henry used to start the rape and pillage of the world. At the end – Lagos train station. No sign or anything. Just turn around now and trot back to my hotel that I passed 20 minutes ago.
I’m done. 155 miles (using all beach options) + my unintended extras. A sense of pride no doubt, but mixed with melancholy and a deep sort of “What am I going to do tomorrow” hole in my mind. I’ve got to go through that awful down time thing that happens to me when I get home. Then in a week, plan new trip to finish Malta while watching the ‘little one’ volleyball. Yay! (Appropriate celebration imojo).
