Four Days in the Algarve

This was a tough video to put together.

I was so gung-ho when DW and I were in the Douro Valley, where my cameras were running from the moment we pulled out of São Bento train station until the light faded from the sky, at the end of the day. On that Monday, we had awakened at about 5 am and didn't get to bed until just past 1 am, the next day, and we had to be up at 4 am, when we finished packing, ordered an Uber ride to the Porto airport, and flew to the south of Portugal.

We landed in Faro, in the Algarve region, and took another Uber to the train station, where we travelled for a few more hours until we got to our destination for the next couple of days, Lagos.

My latest YouTube video tells the rest of the story.

We were in this region from Tuesday, September 20, until the Friday, before continuing up to central Portugal and the capital city, Lisbon.

DW didn't see the video until after I posted it to my YouTube channel. When she told me that she had watched it, she said, "It's good but you completely left out Tunes."

"I barely took any photos in Tunes," I said. We had a two-and-a-half-hour rest in this sleepy town, while we waited for our connecting train, but we had possibly the best meal of our entire vacation in this nowhere town.

It was easily the most memorable.

But the fact is that there was so much in the Algarve that I didn't record. I didn't capture our first dinner, at Taninos, which was also one of the best meals, where we took our time while a rain storm raged outside. I didn't capture the end of our hike along the clifftops in Lagos, where we stopped at a beautiful beach and had lunch on a patio.

I didn't record the memory of sitting on the top-floor balcony of our hotel room, in Portimão, while we ate take-away Piri-Piri chicken and drank canned sangria.

The truth is that after the Douro, after we kayaked on the Atlantic off the shores of Lagos, I was tired and feeling uninspired. There were simply times that I wanted to enjoy the moment, relax, and not worry about video-recording everything.

Still, I captured enough footage (it's funny, how, in the digital age, we still say "video footage") to put together some good memories of the four days that we spent in the Algarve. Between still photos and the video that I actually captured, I think it's a decent retrospective.

Have a look:

Lisbon is going to be even more of a challenge, as I captured even less footage. Maybe that's a good thing. For my Lisbon video, I wanted to capture what I thought was the essence of our vacation, not a day-by-day recount. The next video will be short.

I also plan to break it up, where I show a compilation of memories in one video, a day in Belém in another, and a day trip to Cascais in a third.

Small bites.

The work on that video has just begun. Stay tuned.

From the Algarve to Lisbon

It was going to be one of the highlights of our vacation.

Yes, we had already done some kayaking in the Algarve but we had done so with a guided tour and in a tandem kayak. DW are used to leading our own trek in our own, single-person kayaks.

And we had rented two sea kayaks, to be out on the Atlanic Ocean, on our own, before sunrise. Our destination: the Benagil Cave.

There are many tour companies that try to sell you a guided trip to this landmark site, along with as many people as they can fit on a boat. But the boats only go into the cave and don't land, nor do they let you off. And, at the time of day in which these tours are held, the cave is full of people, vying for that great shot.

We wanted to get to the cave ahead of most people by arriving before sunrise. Only the hard-core adventurers get up that early. And because we were going in late September, a large number of tourists were gone for the season.

Take Potato Beach, in Lagos, for example. DW and I were one of only a couple of early birds on the beach for sunrise, and we were the only ones to watch the sun from in front of the Student Bridge, the old Roman overpass.

The only way to get to Benagil Caves was by water. There is no land access. You either have to swim or paddle the 200-or-so metres from the beach. And depending on the ocean conditions, it can be a rough swim.

Fortunately, DW and I are experienced kayakers and we expected the trek to be a cake walk. We had reserved the kayaks for 7:00, nearly a half hour before sunrise. Plenty of time to paddle into the cave and set up my camera gear.

We would take a few photos, enjoy the beauty of the cave, and then kayak a bit along the Algarve coastline before having to return our kayaks, at 8:30.

We were sitting on the balcony of our Portimão hotel, eating piri piri chicken and sipping sangria when the message arrived on my smartphone: our reservation had been moved to 8:30, well after sunrise and only a half hour before many tours began.

But that wasn't our only setback. By starting an hour and a half later than we had planned, we would be rushed to get back to our hotel with enough time to shower, pack, and check out. We also had a train to catch at 11:30 and couldn't miss it.

We were heading to Lisbon today.

I contacted the rental agency and told them that the new time would not work. I also expressed my displeasure at having our reservation altered only nine hours before we were scheduled to be there, and yet they required 24 hours from us if we wanted to cancel. I expected a full refund, I told them.

With our kayaking plans changed, we had to notify our hotel that our breakfast plans needed to change. Breakfast was included with our reservation but you needed to schedule a time in which you planned to eat, so that they wouldn't be overcrowded at one time. Fortunately, they were able to change our time without a problem.

The cancellation also meant that we had more time to go to the Portimão Museum. We had planned to go after our kayaking, after breakfast, and after we had checked out but with the time we had, we feared that we might only be able to visit the museum for a short time, if at all. Now, we could take our time.

Old smokestack for museum, which was once a sardine factory (photo by DW).

The hotel offered to hold our bags for us, but we declined. Because the hotel was on the beach and the museum was in town, not far from the train station, we'd need to take our bags with us. And as we found out, at the museum, they had large lockers that, for one euro each, held all of our stuff.

And, as a further bonus, we learned that the museum was free on Fridays.

The museum held interesting artifacts of a fishing town and gave us a good glimpse of what it was like, more than 100 years ago, to live and work near a sardine processing and canning factory. It also showed what it was like to live on the sea.

We ordered an Uber to take us from the museum to the train station, and we arrived with about 10 minutes to spare to catch our first train, to Tunes, from where we'd transfer onto a faster train, to Lisbon.

I've already described our layover, in Tunes, so I won't repeat it here, except only to say that DW and I are still talking about the fabulous meal and hospitality at Zig Zag Restaurant.

We were so stuffed from lunch, plus we had also shared a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses of a digestif, so we snoozed for about an hour on the train. I remember snippets of passing small towns, farms, and orchards, and we were glued to our window as we rolled through Almada, where we could see the Santuário de Cristo Rei—the giant statue of Jesus that resembled the one in Rio de Janeiro. Sitting on the left side of the train, we could see the western end of Lisbon, with the Monument to the Discoveries and, further down, the Belém Tower, as we crossed the Tagus River from high above, on the 25 de Abril Bridge.

We got off the train at Campolide Station and transferred onto a subway that took us to the Baixa-Chiado metro station. Because we had purchased our Viva metro cards on the morning that we had first flown into Portugal, and had loaded the cards up, we had no delays in getting to our destination.

Also, on our journey from Tunes to Lisbon, I had notified our Airbnb host of our ETA to the apartment that we were renting for the next eight nights. Once out of the Baixa-Chiado metro station, I contacted her again to say that we were less than 10 minutes away.

We got to the apartment just seconds ahead of Carla, our host (different Carla from Lagos).

The apartment was small but cozy, furnished with modern comforts. There was a small living room with two lounge chairs and a table in a corner with two more chairs, for eating. Doors opened onto a small balcony that looked down onto the street corner, three stories below.

A bed was behind a sheer curtain and wooden braces—part of what would guard against earthquakes. The bathroom and galley kitchen were separated from the bedroom by a corridor that had a night table and closets.

As I said, the room was small but it was clean and had everything we needed, including WiFi. I'd be able to publish blog posts while we were here.

DW and I don't tend to linger in hotels and guest houses. They are purely a place to rest our heads and get cleaned up. We spend almost all of our time exploring. And this place also had a kitchen, where we could prepare breakfast of light meals, should we not want to dine out.

Carla showed us where everything was and told us that if we had any questions to not hesitate to ask. When we asked for a recommendation for a good Fado bar (Fado is traditional Portuguese music that originated in Lisbon), she gave us the name of one that was essentially below us and two doors over. She suggested that we go for the show but to skip the dinner.

She handed us our keys, pointed out a small bottle of Ginja—a cherry liqueur that was a specialty of Portugal, particularly, Lisbon—and left us on our own.

We freshened up and then made our way to the closest grocery store, where we bought some essentials, stopped at a convenience store, where we stocked up on water, and then returned to the apartment. Neither of us was hungry and we discussed how we had been essentially going non-stop for a week, so we decided to stay in for the evening, to take advantage of the fact that we had a washing machine in the apartment, and did a proper load of laundry.

With no dryer in the apartment, we did as the Portuguese did: we hung our clothes on a line, outside the windows.

I wrote a couple of blog posts, we caught up on social media, and went to bed early, with the buzz of the nightlife below us. Bairro Alto is known for its bars, Fado music, and clubs. On a weekend, establishments can be open all night. Thankfully, with our windows and shutters closed, the sound dropped to a dull roar and we were able to fall asleep.

The next day was going to be a busy one. Stay tuned.

From Lagos to Portimão

Again, I didn't want to get out of bed to take sunrise photos. But DW wanted to go for a morning swim in the Atlantic, and I knew that she'd go without me, if need be, so I reluctantly threw on some clothes and gathered my camera gear.

No one should ever swim alone.

We left the guest house just as João was pulling up, across the street. We gave a quick wave and continued on our way. Even though we had more than a half hour before sunrise, it was a 10 to 15-minute walk to the beach and I needed time to set up and take test photos. We couldn't be delayed by idle conversation.

The town was almost completely blanketed in darkness. only a few lights illuminated the narrow streets. As we neared the town centre, we could see a city worker sweeping the street and collecting trash. We nodded as we passed but were undeterred in our journey.

There wasn't a cloud in the sky. Looking out from the beach to the distant horizon, a faint haze of purples, pinks, and oranges showed the coming of the sun on the ocean. It was enough light that we could see our way safely on the boardwalk.

We traversed the sand and approached a giant outcrop of rock that towered above us. We could see a tunnel that had been bored through it and we followed, coming out the other side to a small, secluded beach, Praia dos Estudantes.

More rocky towers, and connecting two of them, the Ponte Romana, an ancient Roman bridge known as the Ponte Estudantes: the Students' Bridge. Long ago, a school was situated high on the clifftop. The bridge is all that remains.

I set up my tripod while DW stripped down to her swimsuit and went into the cool water. I made sure that I never lost sight of her, but she didn't stay in the water for long. It was invigorating and she came back to me, wide awake.

I took several photos, leading up to sunrise. Without clouds to cast colour across the sky, there were only going to be a few shots that I'd take. But the most exciting time was when the sun actually broke over the horizon and sent a large flock of birds, who had been slumbering on the clifftops, to start up in a flight that resembled a dance between the rocks.

It was a marvel to watch.

I took a few more photos after sunrise and then packed up my gear. It was time for breakfast. We returned with plenty of time to shower and dress before hitting the rooftop for another delicious breakfast, prepared by Maria and Charlotte.

We thanked our hosts for their hospitality and then returned to our room, where we collected all of our belongings and packed our bags. We were scheduled to check out at 11.

With our room in order, we left our bags and made our way to Igreja de Santo António, a 1700s church that is now a museum. We had enough time to go through the museum and then make our way back to the 3 Marias Guest House to return our keys, thank Carla for her friendship (she was in and out, throughout our stay, and always checking to see that we were comfortable). We grabbed our bags and made our way to the Lagos bus station.

DW and I find that the best mode of transportation in Portugal (honestly, anywhere) is the train system, but we were only going about 20 kilometres or so east, to the town of Portimão. There are two buses that go, and you must specify whether you're heading to the beach area or to the town centre: we were headed to the former location, as that is where we'd be staying for the next 24 hours.

DW had decided that she wanted to splurge on one hotel for our trip. For Porto, Lagos, and Lisbon, we had either booked small, independently owned hotels or an Airbnb that was owned and run by a local. For one night, she wanted something more.

(In retrospect, we found the hospitality in Lagos and Lisbon to be far superior, and the inn in Porto was also exactly what we needed.)

DW booked a room with a partial view of the beach at the Jupiter Algarve Hotel, which is a short walk from Praia da Rocha, part of a beautiful stretch of beaches that rival any in Florida, any day. We arrived a couple of hours early, but the hotel had a secure holding area for our belongings, and we decided to spend the time at one of the many restaurants along the beach.

Lunch was at Senhora Da Rocha, where I had my first-ever meal of grilled sardines. From the first time that I had ever seen anyone eat them in a YouTube travel video, I've wanted to try them, myself. They were amazing: so flavourful and so filling. I couldn't wait to try them again.

DW was less adventurous, as she's not a huge seafood fan, but she did enjoy a meal of grilled chicken.

When we returned to the hotel, we learned that we had been upgraded to a junior suite—a bigger room with a better view—and we were excited. But when we saw the room, which was on the top floor of the hotel, we couldn't believe our good luck.

The room was amazing and the view was perfect. (I'll share a view of the room when I complete a YouTube video in the future. Stay tuned.)

We changed, headed down the beach, and walked for a couple of kilometres, to Praia dos Careanos and back, basking in the afternoon's golden hour, made even more saturated by the glow of the rocky cliffs.

We returned to the hotel and decided to relax in their pool, which was considerably warmer than the Atlantic. We ran into an older Canadian couple, from British Columbia, who were cycling through the country, and we chatted until dinner time.

DW and I walked to the Portimão marina, where we saw the museum, and we decided that we would try to check it out, tomorrow, if time allowed. Our next morning was pretty busy and we had to check out of the hotel by noon, so we didn't know if it would work out.

It was dark and we didn't know where we wanted to eat in the town, so we took an Uber ride back to our hotel, checked out a take-away piri-piri chicken restaurant, grabbed some canned cocktails from a liquor store, and went back to our room, where we dined on the balcony.

While we ate, I received a notification from tomorrow's adventure spot had changed our meeting time, pushing it out by an hour and a half.

This was no good for us. As we scrambled to try to make other arrangements, we decided that the new time just didn't give us enough time to get back to the hotel, get cleaned up, and check out. And forget about going to the Portimão Museum.

Sadly, I had to notify the organizers to cancel our reservation.

What was it, you ask? Tune in tomorrow.