Sand was in my shoes by the second headland. I stopped twice to empty them and gave up after that. The grains worked through the mesh and settled along the inside of the heel, a low persistent itch I walked with for hours.
I had taken the bus to Almograve the week before. Twenty minutes sitting in the back seat while the road cut inland through scrubland. The coast path is part of the Fishermen’s Trail, a Rota Vicentina stage of about 16.6 km that follows the cliff tops. I had read the distance and thought it would take four hours. It took most of the day.
The path rarely left the edge. On the left were low dunes and dry grass. On the right was a drop I didn’t look at too carefully. The rock was pale, layered, the colour of old bone. The sea below was flat and dark where it met the stones, lighter further out.
I think the sand became a problem within twenty minutes. The trail dipped through a hollow where wind had blown soft sand across the track, ankle-deep in places. I had walking shoes, not boots. The sand came over the top. That was that.
I met them at a wooden marker post where the path split around a rock outcrop. A man and a woman, both in their sixties I think, she in a wide-brimmed hat, he carrying a small daypack on one shoulder. They were reading a map. I nodded and passed.
An hour later I stopped to drink water where the cliff narrowed to a ridge maybe two metres wide. They came up behind me again. She was photographing something on the ground. He was sitting on a rock eating from a paper bag. I moved on.
The third time was at a beach access where steps had been cut into the rock. They were sitting on the bottom step. She had taken off her boots and was pouring sand out of each one. He was on the phone, speaking something I didn’t recognise. German, maybe, or Dutch. We looked at each other and she laughed. I think we were all past pretending we hadn’t noticed each other.
The afternoon I spent walking past the stretch of coast where I’d seen the storks nesting was different from seeing it from a bus window. I had forgotten how much of the trail is open ground with no cover. The sun was direct and I drank more water than I planned for.
Further along, the cliffs lowered and the path ran through a stand of pines. The shade lasted maybe ten minutes. Then it was bare again, the trail a faint line through grey-green scrub.
I forgot to take photos for long stretches. My phone stayed in my pocket. A cormorant sat on a rock below me, preening, and I watched it for a while without reaching for anything.
I don’t have a good reason for walking it instead of taking the bus again. The bus was easier. The bus was faster. But I had the day free and the morning was cool and I wanted to see what the path was like between the two points. Or maybe I just wanted to be tired in a way that wasn’t sitting still.
If you’re thinking about it
- Start early. The first three hours had cool air and some shade. By noon there was neither.
- Bring more water than seems reasonable. I carried two litres and ran low near the end.
- Walking shoes are fine but sand gets in through the mesh. Gaiters would help.
- The path is well-marked with wooden posts and painted markers. Hard to lose the trail.
- Check return bus times from Almograve before setting out, or plan to walk back.
That’s all I wrote down.
