Stephen and Therese's Excellent Adventure

This is us on the cliffs, around 70km up the West coast.

Below, the view from our doorstep. 10 metres away is a 150 metre drop.

I woke up repeatedly during the night, partly due to it being so quiet and part to look at the stars clearly … the only light pollution was from a lighthouse.

We cycle down (1 in 14) the hill to the main town in the morning and find the Municipal Mercado. Therese is keen to eat couscous tonight, so I’m on the lookout for Pumpkin.

Ours for 50 cent. It’ll be Couscous with Pumpkin and Pumpkin soup all round then.

The bike ride back isn’t nearly so much fun. However it does provide some long overdue exercise.

Therese makes a surprise lunch (pumpkin soup), whilst I go in search of some drinking water. Successful, I do another couple of trips up and down that hill to top up our reserves, giving us another four days.

It’s 20 degrees. We walk along the cliff tops in the afternoon. Large parts have broken into the sea, over what I can only guess are millennia. There are horizontal chunks hundreds of metres long jutting from the sea, where once they were part of the cliff face. All very beautiful … and a reminder to me to stay back far enough.

We’re heading North.  There’s a free site at Aljezur slightly inland and the promise of a charming and lively old town. Arriving around 11am, it turns out there’s a parking restriction where we planned to reside. Certainly we can live with not using the spaces near the market until 1500 - but we’d also need to be up and out by 0800 the next morning. Even for us skylarks, that’s around 90 minutes too early. Instead we’ll look around the town then move on.

There’s a ruined castle at the top of the old town, the views from which are charming.

We’re definitely dressing like locals now. Anything below 20 degrees and the jumpers go on.  The same policy sensibly applies to the local canine community.

Or Paris Hilton was in town.

It doesn’t take long to “do” the town. Life in the motorhome it gives us the luxury of moving on - which is exactly what we do.

Odeceixe is another 20km North. We arrive just after lunch and have the public cliff top parking area to ourselves. Here’s the view.

Nice though it is, once we walk along the cliff tops, we find an even better area and have a patch of cliff all to ourselves.

After chatting to a couple who’ve cashed in their house deposit for a motorhome and taken a year off, we walk down to the beach and have a glass of very rough wine at the only bar in the village.

We’re escorted back to the motorhome by a Rhodesian Ridgeback.

It has impeccable manners - but ultimately is looking for grub. As vegetarians we can only disappoint. Visiting cats are usually even more upset.

Then it’s some prep for dinner and along the cliffs to watch the sunset and back to the motorhome the wind rocks us to sleep.

We’ve decided to stay in Sagres for another day.  Along the coast from us is Cabo de Saõ Vincente, around a 7km walk away. We follow the road rather than the dodgy coastal path. Although the cliffs don’t get anywhere near the extremes of weather that erode the coastline of the UK so quickly, there’s still some signs of poor-footing by people.

Here’s us around halfway there.

And Therese struggling the final 500 metres (only kidding, ouch)

The cliffs are as high as anywhere we’ve seen on the coastline.  Therese makes a cry for help by wandering a little close to the edge for my liking.

We chat to a French couple, who point out that someone did get a little close to the edge a few years back … and the police are still looking for a fisherman who vanished near these cliffs yesterday afternoon.

We have a late lunch and another wander around Sagres. In an effort to ensure nothing goes to waste, tonight’s special is bread and butter pudding (old croissants with some dates, covered in soya custard and baked) followed by the lighthearted Babel.

Spotted at the local pizza place in Sagres. Tropical pizza seems popular in Portugal.

We travel West. It’s only 25km to the end of the World. At least what the Portuguese considered the end of the world for a long time*

Parked just beside this road, we approach the fort at Sagres. Beyond this point is the final 500m of the South West of Europe. Entry €1.50. Seagulls and children free.

The views are, as you would expect, impressive. There’s also a lot of people fishing - with rods suspended over the 300 feet high cliffs. Peering over and looking in the sea, you can see why. It’s teeming with life…

So (below) here we are … South West. Despite our best efforts to avoid going North, we’ve no choice now. The weather around here is due to be around 20 degrees for the next 5 days but I’m sure as we travel up it will start moving towards single digits. 4 layers of clothing here we come.

Also spotted on the peninsula, what I can only assume to be British graffiti. Either that or it’s Doogie Howser M.D.

We have a quick wander around the outskirts of Sagres then spend the rest of the afternoon relaxing in the relative quietness of the almost empty tourist coach car park … for free, of course! A cocktail each in the town at sunset ends the day.

*not Geologically speaking, of course.

We’re only around 1km from Luz. Ten minutes after breakfast we’re there. Not expecting much - but it turns out to be an excellent little town. It has a certain infamy, though from the signs, seems to have shaken it.

We walk the beach. The local rocks are teaming with fossils.

and (as we say in Scotland) “menshies”

At least they put the effort in.

For the first time in the entire time we’ve been away we indulge in ice cream. Not even some good stuff - just generic walls/nestle/Olá stuff. I have after eight, Therese something unpronounceable … we think toffee and vanilla.

Yes, I know : best picture of me ever.

Back for a late lunch at the motorhome and relaxing afternoon.  Therese beats me 3-0 at Boule (as usual). She still hasn’t figured out that I let her. (not). Stupid Boule.

Tomorrow we’ll load up the van with fresh water, empty all the waste water and see if we can find some wild camping on the 20km that remain of the South West of Europe.