10 – 13 August 2019

We were excited to be crossing another border and trying another country, Even now, 4,500 kms into our road trip, the whole ‘look kids, we’re driving across a (in this case river) and we’re in another country’ thing was not getting old. 

We whizzed across the southern section of the Algarve, keen to get to Lagos, our base for the next 3 days, and potential site for some surfing, kiteboarding and exploring some beautiful beaches with towering cliffs and interesting apostle like rock formations and bridges. The town was also the launching site for many a Portuguese naval exploration and has the illustrious honour of being the landing point for the first African slaves brought to Europe. 

We dumped our stuff at our apartment in Villa Mar Azul in the outskirts of town and made our way to the local Intermarche for supplies (showing the kids all the glamorous parts of travelling). 

First impressions of the area were that it was now predominantly a landing point for Brits and French people, with not a Portuguese person in sight, and that it was incredibly expensive – even at the supermarket. 

We were also hit, somewhat embarrassingly, by our complete lack of knowledge of any Portuguese. Nothing. Nada. This is relatively unusual for us, we would typically come into a country armed with at least a few words to help us along the way. Safe in the knowledge that they hated you if you spoke Spanish to them, we effectively had nothing. We ran with English, which everyone seemed to speak perfectly (at least in Lagos).

Fully stocked, we headed to our apartment for a night of home cooking (exciting after after a couple of weeks of restaurant dinners since Italy), Portugeuse language study and a quiet night of domesticity. 

First order of the following day was a ‘run club’ outing to the nearby Praia de Porto de Mós beach less than a kilometre away, which promised the possibility of a beach run and even a first dip into the Atlantic. The beach did not disappoint in the early morning light, towering cliffs overlooking white sand and clear water smoothed by a gentle offshore breeze. Shoes off, a brief jog along the sand and we decided to try the water. 

The shrieks could be heard from Spain. 

This was not the warm waters of the Mediterranean. Our 5 hour drive had reduced the water by 10 degrees and the kids weren’t happy about it.  

Any thoughts of an early morning dip were discarded and run club stayed relatively dry throughout. 

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After breakfast we headed to one of the picture postcard perfect Lagos beaches, Praia do Camillo, with its classic cliffs, bridges and apostles. As we made our way down the 200 stairs from the road to the beach we were as taken with the view as we were concerned about how we were going to get Sienna back up. Perhaps she could make a home down there, start school and come up when she was big enough to walk herself? 

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The morning was spent exploring the beauty of the beach, playing beach tennis and daring each other to go into the water to join the one random German dude who was lying in there, pretending like it was the Med (there’s always one isn’t there?). Eventually both Ellie and Anthony ended up wet (Ellie on the promise of being able to wear her newly purchased bikini more often). 

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That afternoon, Anthony went kitesurfing, proving without question that it’s not like riding a bike, and it doesn’t all come back immediately after a 5 + year hiatus (or perhaps it was never really there in the first place?). The session was held at the local Alvos lagoon, shared only with the local oyster farm and about 200 other (mainly beginner) kiters. Avoiding out of control kids and flying learners is a great way to reacquaint oneself with this sport… and despite the chaos of the place it was great fun, and hopefully the first of a few different opportunities in the next few months. 

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Meanwhile, the girls had a girly afternoon, doing homework, school movies and generally delivering on a promise of chill out time for Jessie and Sena. 

That evening we headed out in Lagos Old Town to explore some of the pretty, winding old streets in search of some (at least somewhat) authentic Portuguese food. We eventually settled on Barbosa in the old town, and had a decent meal and, unfortunately, probably the worst wine of the trip so far. We were 0 for 2 with Portuguese wines now, and starting to wonder if it was us or the wine. Time would tell. 

Over UNO at dinner, we agreed that tomorrow would be the day that we would brave the cold waters of the Atlantic and the girls would surf their second ocean. They were excited, but not 100% sure what they were excited about. 

The following morning we headed west of Lagos to the surf town of Sagres, right on the south western tip of mainland Europe. It was a beautiful place with towering cliffs descending into the blue waters of the Atlantic below. 

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We had chosen our surfing day well – after getting used to 30+ degree days, light winds and the warm waters of the Med, today was 20 degrees with a breezy 20 knot wind and 16 degree water.  We would be in it for a good time, not a long time. 

We hired a board and struck out towards the recommended beach up the coast that would theoretically be sheltered from the prevailing winds. We watched in dismay as the recommended road went from asphalt, to single lane, to dirt and dangerously close to sand. If there is one thing our trust Duster is not, it is off road capable. 

We rapidly abandoned our plans and headed instead to the south coast, hoping to find something sheltered from the wind but with enough surf to keep us happy. 

We eventually settled on Praia do Tonel just outside of Sagres (with paved roads all the way there). The beach itself was beautiful, with trademark cliffs towering over the yellow sand. The conditions were far from ideal (the wind trying to rip the surfboard out of our hands as we walked along the beach), but we were here and it was are only sure chance of an Atlantic surf, so in we went. 

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To say it did not compare to our experiences at Byron Bay or autumn surfing at Manly is a pretty big understatement. The water was cold, the waves windswept and bumpy. The kids shrieked loudly as they subjected themselves to the cold water, but waves (singular in the case of the girls) were caught and footage captured for posterity. Anthony persevered a little longer but without much additional success. 

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Following our relative surfing success it was off for celebratory coffees and on to Cabo do Sao Vincente – the lighthouse marking the south western corner of mainline Europe. The views north and east along the cliffs were stunning, the waves from the Atlantic crashing into the base more than 50 metres below the lighthouse. As the winds whipped around us, Jessie and Sena decided to hide in the car. Liz stayed around, but mainly just to ensure that Anthony and Ellie did not get too close to the (completely unfenced) edge of the cliff, or generally just fly away in the wind. 

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The afternoon was spent, at Jessie’s request, around the apartment, enjoying the pool, doing homework (Sena’s favourite thing) and generally recovering from our supposedly relaxing holiday. (Note here – as we have been on the road now for roughly 5 weeks, we are finding that we all need more downtime to stay sane… so whilst it sounds ridiculous to have ‘downtime’ from holidays, we are finding it is key to having sane, relatively well adjusted kids). 

For dinner we went to the lovely Campimar, right on our local (and favourite) beach, Praia de Porto de Mos, where we had a really good fish dinner (and actually managed to choose some decent local wine) and got to watch the cliffs change colour with the sunset. Result!  

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The following morning we packed up and headed north, out of the Algarve and towards Lisbon. Lagos had fulfilled its purpose – the scenery had been beautiful, we had got our watersports fix and stood on the corner of the continent. 

We knew, however, that this was not the ‘real’ Portugal. It was, as expected, a bubble where the tourists (mainly French and Brits it seemed) outnumbered the locals by many to one, where prices were astronomical (this was the most expensive place we have stayed in by quite some margin) and it was hard to locate ‘real’ Portuguese anything. 

We were excited to be heading to Lisbon to try and discover something a bit more authentic, and to catch up with our friends Nick and Dee, who had just relocated here from the UK.