Time to leave. Even though this place invites a much slower pace, as do some of our fellow travellers. This is just what we do. Besides, to get around we pretty much need to break camp – and once we do so, we feel we might as well be moving on. Coming back to the same places, no matter how nice they are, often feels like treading water.

So we pack, slowly – say our goodbyes and are off again. Distances are still minute – thus we took the scenic route via smaller winding mountain roads. Near Monchique, we saw widespread tracks marked by the aftermath of the regular wildfires that hit this region, to the frustrations of the locals. Tragic it is, but as in Australia, I must say that a post-fire cork oak growth looks pretty spectacular. Especially one year after, the contrast between the charcoal black tree trunks and the fresh green leaves and grass is a striking sight.

Not much in the mood for lingering, we decided to move on to our first destination. Today was set aside for beaches. Several of them, actually. The first one, Praia Dona Ana, was in a bit of a doubtful area to begin with. Nearby Lagos is a fully “developed” tourist destination, still mildly less dreadful than most of the Costa del Sol. The beach was pretty much in line with that. Dramatic sandstone formations all around, sure. But we have seen this before. Even with relatively few “rotisserie chickens” as we call the usual beach goers, there was this lingering air of high season over crowdedness. Our travel elitism did not help either – we have seen probably 100 beaches by now. Some of them so near perfect that it is hard to compete.

We let Number 3 enjoy the sand for a while – took a couple of photos and decide to try our luck elsewhere. The little one found quite the liking to smooth sand and seashells. He was definitively more apprehensive when it came to the sudden cold rush of a wave flowing past his calves.

Next stop would be the fort of Sagres. It’s situated on a sandstone spit where generations of sailors said farewell to the homeland one last time before journeying across the Atlantic. Given our continued bad luck with Lonely Planet food recommendations (permanently closed, once again), we chose the cliff as our lunch spot. A pretty great one in my mind, but even 10 meters from the drop and with Number 3 properly secured on my lap, Nina could never quite relax to take in the scene fully.

We even enjoyed the change in weather, reminding us a lot of New Zealand and the many changes throughout the day back home in Wellington. We like the sun, but often times a lot for the shade that comes with it. Beaches and cliffs in direct midday sun can be surprisingly unwelcoming to pasty white central Europeans.

The final stop for the day was the highlight as well, for sure. The rougher Atlantic west coast makes for more dramatic scenes and also keeps the touristy types to an acceptable level. Instead, we moved into dude (as in Surfer Dudes) country. Much more overlap, I would say. The very first stop at Praia Da Bordeira landed us at the unofficial camp spot of the beach. It seems most of them have one of these around here. This time of year, they are almost exclusively the domain of surfers and more rugged parental leave families (with some overlap of the two groups). We are still happy with our set up, but places like these bring out the longing for a self-contained vehicle. Then again, they would also not have been any good on the bike, so where is the loss?

We wandered around a bit from here first and found that we were still far in the dunes, at the river meandering its way to the ocean. Great place for Number 3, since there are no waves here – so he got a lot braver with the water here, and his diaper paid the price 😉

We hopped in the car one more time to go on a little further to a set of viewpoints on the cliff and the actual beach access. The views were beautiful, and even the sun showed her face a couple of times cheekily through the clouds. We could have lingered a bit longer, but it was time to find a camp and cook dinner.

With no great options around (confirmed by the lot of Elternzeit families we met) we chose close and cheap. The camp was actually pretty cool. A grove of Eucalyptus big enough for 120 lots with only maybe 20 stays at the moment. Plenty of safe space for Number 3 to roam around while I took exceptionally long to prepare spaghetti al arrabiata for us.

As I wandered around a bit after the little one was brought to bed, I stumbled into the camp of some known faces: Johannes, Maike and their two kids made it here as well – having secured a quiet corner far off from a lot of hassle to stay a bit and explore from here. They send me off with a tip to check out the local beach, which was not on our radar yet. We took note and will probably give it a try tomorrow.