"I've never swum in the Pacific," I told DW, as we were watching the sun approach the horizon on Playa Santa Teresa, in Costa Rica, last February.
"What about when we were in California?" she asked, referring to our trip in 2016.
"You and the girls swam in the ocean," I said. "I watched our things on the beach."
"What's stopping you from going in now?" DW held out her hand to take my D-SLR and tripod, and my hat and glasses. I was dressed in bathing trunks and a quick-dry t-shirt, with my Keens on my feet.
I held onto my 360-degree camera, which was on an extendible, three-metre selfie stick. That, I would take into the ocean with me.
I needed some video footage of the massive waves that were crashing in.
So, I've finally swum on both coastlines: the Atlantic and the Pacific. I've been in the Atlantic Ocean several times—in Prince Edward Island and Nova Scotia, and if the mouth of the Bay of Fundy, in New Brunswick, counts, then there, too.
And then, there's Cape Cod.
In August, 2011, we made a last-minute decision to vacation in Dennis Port, on the southern shore. It was a very last-minute decision: DW found an available cottage for rental on a Saturday morning, booked it, and within an hour the entire family was packed up in our Honda Odyssey and on the road.
We pulled into the cottage around 10 pm that evening.
One of the nice things about the cottage was that it was right beside an old cemetery. The neighbours were dead-quiet. But the best thing about the cottage was that it was a short drive from a great beach with excellent sand and perfect waves: big enough to play in but not too big as to have us worry about the kids playing in them.
While I spent most of the time on the beach, watching our things, DW and the girls took our wave boards and played in the surf. I captured tons of photos of the three, having a blast.
At one point, DW came out of the water and reached for my D-SLR. "Go have fun," she said. "I'll watch our stuff."
She managed to capture me on the wave board, having fun, and spending some daddy-daughter time with Kid 1.
I don't go in the water very often because if my head goes under the surface, my sinuses often give me grief the next day. But on this day, in August of 2011, just as it was in February of this year, it was worth it.
I have shared some of the bigger adventures that we had on this Cape Cod getaway, be it whale watching, car woes, or avoiding a hurricane, so if you want to know more about this trip, you can click the related links.
But this day was one of my favourites of the trip.
When DW and I set out for our trip to Portugal, a vacation wasn't all that was on our minds. I can see retirement on the horizon, and we were exploring options as to where we could see ourselves living in the next phase of our lives.
Cascais was a potential option.
We finally had a late start to the morning, sleeping in almost until 8:00. For us, that's a very late start when we're on vacation. We like to get out and do things before the bulk of tourists are on the move. But today, on the tenth day in Portugal, we were going to get a move on at a later hour.
I wanted to capture golden hour, if not sunset, on the west coast.
We walked down Rua do Alecrim to the train station in Cais do Sodré and were lucky to hop a train that was just about to pull out. It followed the Tagus River, past Belém and many other stops before ending at the eastern edge of Cascais but still within the town. Exiting the station, we saw a traffic circle and the starting point to our main destination, a bicycle rental kiosk (it wasn't the destination: it was the starting point).
But because it was the noon hour and we were hungry, we sought out a restaurant. We walked past an Indian restaurant and thought we might check it out, as we love Indian food and had only eaten Portuguese food so far on this vacation. When we turned the corner and passed another Indian restaurant, we knew it was a sign. And this one had a patio, so this was where we had lunch.
Masala Indian Restaurant is located where there's lots of buzz, as shoppers and sightseers alike wander the pedestrian corridors. The food was delicious and reasonably priced, and the service was attentive. DW and I both gave it our thumbs up.
Adequately fed, we returned to the bike rental kiosk. Much like Bixi bikes or Citi Bike, these basic, three-speed touring bikes have a basket on the front and are easy to ride. We were able to rent them for about six euros and we had to return them by 7 pm. That gave us more than five hours.
We consulted a map and plotted out a route. Our destination was Cabo da Roca, about 20 kilometres away. DW thought it would be a challenge, given that the bikes weighed about twice as much as our road bikes, but I assured her that we could do it.
Folks, we couldn't do it.
As we left Cascais and followed the shoreline, the wind became stronger and stronger, blowing from the west and straight at us. Passing beaches, we could see large waves crashing on rocks, sending spray into the air. Sand was beginning to blow across the roadway and our bike path. And as we approached Praia do Guincho, a beach that is popular with surfers, and as we saw the considerable climb ahead of us, we came up with a Plan B.
Praia do Guincho, looking toward Cabo da Roca
Across the street from Fortaleza do Guincho, a hotel next to Praia do Guincho that looks more like a fortress than a five-star resort, we saw a bus stop where many bikes were parked. It looked like we weren't the only ones with the same idea. We were grateful that we had rented a bike lock for an additional euro.
But instead of waiting for the bus, which was due in about a half an hour, we ordered an Uber. For nine euros, we got up to Cabo da Roca in comfort and a lot quicker than a bus could have taken us.
Cabo da Roca is the westernmost point of continental Europe and rises about 150 metres above the Atlantic. The steep cliff drops down to jagged rocks below. And as you look westward, all you see is endless ocean.
It's no wonder that in the days before ocean exploration, this was the end of the world.
As we exited our Uber vehicle, we could hear sirens and deep, raspy horns in the distance. Looking down the road that leads to this spot, we could see a fire engine and an ambulance approaching. By the time that we walked out of the parking area, these vehicles were negotiating the foot paths toward the cliff. I captured some of the moment with my video camera.
Someone, it seemed, had slipped off the cliff beyond the safety zone. Fences and signs warn visitors not to stray beyond but we could see that many failed to heed those warnings. And with the wind blowing even more fiercely up here than where we had abandoned our bikes, there was no way that DW or I would get close to the edge.
A rescue team sprang to action and headed down toward the victim. As soon as they were out of sight, DW and I wished them luck, crossed our fingers for the person who fell, but then continued with our exploration of the site.
There were a lot of tourists, like us, who were vying to have our pictures taken with the marker that indicates where we were. Ahead of us, a Korean family were posing while the rest of us patiently waited in line. As they finished, the mother looked to DW and me as if to say, we're done, your turn.
"Kamsa-habnida," I said, immediately getting a look of surprise. I mean, what were the chances of a westerner recognizing your nationality and being able to say thank you in your language?
We explored the cliffside from within the fenced area and took pictures of the lighthouse before making our way to a trail that headed north. A short way from Cabo da Roca is a beach with striking jagged rocks that I had hoped to capture at sunset, but we knew this wouldn't be the case now. Because the bikes had to be returned by 7, which was before sunset, we would have to leave Cabo da Roca with enough time to get to the bikes and cycle the 10 kms back to the rental kiosk.
"I'd at least like to get as close to the beach as I can to take some photos," I told DW. We agreed that we would see how far we could get, being mindful of the time and accounting for a half-hour wait from the time that we ordered our Uber.
Praia da Ursa is a much further walk than I had anticipated, and we were only able to get about two-thirds of the way to it from the lighthouse before we knew we had to make our way to a spot where the Uber could reach us. And sadly, the path didn't allow me to even see the beach before we had to turn back. This is the last photo I shot before we turned around. The beach was further beyond, out of sight.
The wind hadn't changed direction since we had last cycled, so we had a strong tailwind that almost made pedalling moot. We stopped at a few spots to capture the waves as they slammed along the rocky shore before continuing back to Cascais. We returned the bikes with about 20 minutes to spare.
We were hungry, having worked up an appetite on the bikes, and found a Casa Portuguesa do Pastel de Bacalhau, a food chain that specializes in a popular Portuguese treat, cod cakes. We ordered the cheese-stuffed cakes: they are served in a paper cup with a glass of white port, which you conveniently hold in what looks like a painter's palette so that you have a free hand. Have a look.
We wandered the narrow streets of Cascais, looking for a seaside view of the sunset but were unsuccessful. The town faces southeast. While we were able to sit along the harbourfront, we'd have to look over the buildings in the town, inland, to see the orange glow of sunset.
We also had to fight off aggressive gulls, eventually moving somewhere safer.
DW found that the cheese was too strong and salty, so only got through half of her cod cake. I finished it for her but we had actually purchased two each, figuring that we were hungry enough to eat them. After finishing DW's cake, I was too full to have my second cake. We'd have to carry the box with them back to Lisbon and I would eat them another time.
We returned to the Casa Portuguesa, figuring that they'd want us to return the palette and port glass, but we learned that we could keep the glasses, as they were included in the price of the meal. The person who had served us offered to give us clean glasses and made the swap. We told him that we didn't want to keep the palettes so he took them back. They were in good shape and could be used again.
As blue hour fell on Cascais, we made our way to the train station and back to Lisbon. We wandered the streets between Cais do Sodré and Praça do Comércio, where we were surprised to find many young people approaching us, looking to sell us cocaine and other drugs.
We politely declined.
As we prepared for bed, back at our apartment, I couldn't help but wonder about the fate of the person who had fallen at Cabo da Roca. Was he or she okay? I fell asleep while sending positive vibes out to a total stranger.
And as for Cascais: could we see ourselves retiring there? Maybe, but DW is still convinced that Canada will remain our home and she can't see us leaving family and friends behind, in Ottawa.
When my alarm sounded, at 6:45 am, I almost thought I would say, "Screw it, I'm going back to sleep. I've seen countless sunrises. What's so special about this one?"
I had never watched a sunrise in the Algarve before. That's what was so special about this one.
I drew the curtain back in our guest house bedroom, and it seemed fully overcast. Perhaps I wasn't going to get a sunrise anyway. Still, it was worth a shot.
And besides, the sun was set to rise a few minutes before breakfast was ready, anyway. I might as well freshen up. I went down the hall to our bathroom, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and combed my hair. I put on some clean clothes and then returned to our room, where DW was just getting up. I grabbed my camera, tripod, remote shutter release, and a neutral-density filter, and headed up to the rooftop patio of the 3 Marias Guest House.
As I passed the kitchen, I met our other host, Maria, who was busy preparing food. Her helper, Charlotte, was also occupied with her duties. On the patio, João was setting tables and straightening up from last night's storm. He offered to make me a coffee but I declined, telling him that I would have one when breakfast was ready to be served.
I set my tripod up in a corner that didn't interfere with João's work and pointed my lens toward Igreja de São Sebastião de Lagos, one of the town's oldest churches, dating back to the 14th century. Every hour on the hour, its bell rang out across Lagos. In the foreground was a cluster of white buildings with a scattering of red tiled rooves, and in the distance I could make out blue hues of far-off mountains.
It looked as though the sky was going to clear enough for sunlight to peek through and I was heartened. Sunrises and sunsets are always more dramatic when they are accompanied with clouds. But it also looked as though the sun was not going to line up with my composed frame. I was pointed more to the northeast than to the east: to frame my shot for the sun, I'd have to point to the backs of neighbouring buildings, which just didn't make for a good shot.
I'd just have to rely on the sun to paint the clouds over St. Sebastian. I don't think I was disappointed.
Not wanting to miss the sun entirely, I took a couple of shots with my smartphone.
DW joined me as I was collapsing my tripod and we were seated at one of the tables that João had prepared. Other guests were emerging from their rooms and taking seats at various tables. Maria came and offered us bacon and eggs, and directed us to a table that had various assortments of breads and jams, coffee, tea, juices, fresh fruit, and more. It was a perfect homemade breakfast.
Our plan for the morning was to hike the trail along the coastline from Praia da Batata (Potato Beach) to Ponta da Piedade—essentially what we had paddled in kayaks, the day before, only from above and on foot.
I threw my Nikon D7200 with a 70–300mm zoom lens in my backpack, clipped my D750 with a 24–70mm lens to a shoulder strap on my backpack, and carried my Insta360 One R video camera, with the 360 module, on a three-metre selfie stick. I also put a two-litre bottle of water in my backpack. It was a lot to carry but I knew that I'd use everything.
People were just starting to show up on the beach. We had the first part of the trail to ourselves but some of it ran onto private property, so we had to take to the main streets and find our way back. By that point, more people were on the trail but it was by no means crowded.
It was interesting to see a group of kayakers, below, doing exactly what we had done the day before. It gave us a great perspective of our adventure.
Not until we reached Farol da Ponta da Piedade, where there is a lighthouse and several lookout points, as well as Miradouro da Ponta da Piedade, a lookout with steep stairs that lead down to the water. Everybody wanted to be there, and several people asked us to take photos for them.
We couldn't resist taking several photos, too.
Not ready to turn around, DW and I continued along the boardwalk paths until we reached Praia de Porto Mós, further west along the coastline. We had travelled at least as far to this beach as we had from Potato Beach to the lighthouse.
By then, we were tired and hungry so we grabbed some snacks and drinks on the patio at Campimar Restaurant. By then, I was falling in love with Super Bock Stout, ordering it wherever it was available, and even claiming it as my official beverage of choice on our trip.
(Except when a good glass of port wine was available.)
We were close to a bus stop and decided to wait for the next one, but when it didn't arrive, we ordered an Uber, instead. It cost us four euros, which was just over a euro more than what the bus would have cost the two of us (€1.40 each), but it was faster and took us directly to our guest house.
DW wanted to do some shopping and I was feeling too tired to wander stores (I hate shopping), so I took our laptop onto the rooftop patio and wrote out a few blog posts while she ran her errands. I helped myself to some of the fruit-infused water and another patron was lounging on the hammock. I later learned that he was a fellow Canadian, from Montreal, and had been in Lagos for nearly a week.
DW returned just as I was finishing the last of my posts for the week, so we decided to wander the town to explore and take more photos and video. We had hoped to visit St. Sebastian Church but it was closed, even though both Google and our tour guide said it was open (never trust Google for hours of operation).
We made our way to the marina, from where we made a FaceTime video call to our kids, and then checked out the Infante Dom Henrique Plaza, which gives a nod to Prince Henry the Navigator. On one end of the plaza stands Igreja de Santa Maria, a Catholic church; across from it, the Mercado de Escravos – Núcleo Museológico Rota da Escravatura, a museum that remembers the slave trade and Portugal's role in human trafficking. The building is the old market house for when Africans were sold off to the highest bidders.
Dinner hour was approaching so we decided to take one of João's other recommendations and went to the restaurant that was directly across from Taninos, Taberna da Mó. Like Taninos, Taberna da Mó offered a tapas menu that was tasty and fresh. It's a larger restaurant and seemed to lack the same cosy atmosphere that we had experienced the night before, but perhaps the thunderstorm added to that ambience. The owner was friendly and recommended some good dishes, and when we told him that we had been given a recommendation from the 3 Marias, he said "I know João and Maria. They're good people."
They really are.
We strolled the darkening streets for a bit longer before returning to the rooftop patio of our guest house, where we finished the bottle of wine that we had started, the night before, and made our plans for the next morning.
Again, I wanted to get up early, but this time I wanted to head to a beach to watch the sun rise over the Atlantic. I wanted to find a good setting and I knew just the place.
