(4) To travel here is to step back in time 40 or 50 years. Life rolls along at a treacly pace;
there’s an unnerving stillness to the landscape. But that stillness ends abruptly at the Atlantic
Ocean, where there is drama in spades. Protected by the South West Alentejo and Costa Vicentina
national park, the 100 km of coastline from Porto Covo in the Alentejo to Burgau in the Algarve
is the most stunning in Europe. And yet few people seem to know about it. Walkers come to
admire the views from the Fisherman’s Way, surfers to ride the best waves in Europe, but day
after day we had spectacular beaches to ourselves.
(5) The lack of awareness is partly a matter of accessibility (these beaches are a good two
hours’ drive from either Faro or Lisbon airports) and partly to do with a lack of beach side
accommodation. There are some gorgeous, independent guesthouses in this area, but they are
hidden in valleys or at the end of dirt tracks.
(6) Our base was a beautiful 600-acre estate of uncultivated land covered in rock-rose,
eucalyptus and wild flowers 13km inland from Zambujeira. Our one-bedroom home, Azenha,
was once home to the miller who tended the now-restored watermill next to it. A kilometre away
from the main house, pool and restaurant, it is gloriously isolated.
(7) Stepping out of the house in the morning to greet our neighbours – wild horses on one
side, donkeys on the other – with nothing but birdsong filling the air, I felt a sense of adventure
you normally only get with wild camping.
(8) “When people first arrive, they feel a little anxious wondering what they are going to do
the whole time,” Sarah Gredley, the English owner of estate, told me. “But it doesn’t usually take
them long to realize that the whole point of being here is to slow down, to enjoy nature.”
(9) We followed her advice, walking down to the stream in search of terrapins and otters, or
through clusters of cork oak trees. On some days, we tramped uphill to the windmill, now a
romantic house for two, for panoramic views across the estate and beyond.
(10) When we ventured out, we were always drawn back to the coast – the gentle sands and
shallow bay of Farol beach. At the end of the day, we would head, sandy-footed, to the nearest
restaurant, knowing that at every one there would be a cabinet full of fresh seafood to choose
from – bass, salmon, lobster, prawns, crabs, goose barnacles, clams … We never ate the same
thing twice.
(11) A kilometre or so from I Cervejaria, on Zambujeira’s idyllic natural harbour is O Sacas,
originally built to feed the fishermen but now popular with everyone. After scarfing platefuls of
seafood on the terrace, we wandered down to the harbour where two fishermen, in wetsuits, were
setting out by boat across the clear turquoise water to collect goose barnacles. Other than them
the place was deserted – just another empty beauty spot where I wondered for the hundredth time
that week how this pristine stretch of coast has remained so undiscovered.