Cabo Espichel

The south west face of the Setúbal Peninsula starts at a place we thought was rather special (I devoted a chapter to it in my book Camel Spit & Cork Trees), but which seemed to underwhelm anyone we took there, Cabo Espichel on the Costa Negra – the Black Coast – so called due to the dangers it posed passing ships. It’s not a pretty spot as such, but it is dramatic. What makes it special is the Sántuario de Nossa Senhora do Cabo Espichel, a religious folly that looks like it would make a great location for a remake of The Magnificent Seven. This remote spot once bustled with pilgrims to the extent it was virtually a small town, even boasting an opera house. How can anyone not be impressed by that? Add to this the dinosaur footprints in the surrounding cliffs, relatively easy to spot once you get your eye in, and it’s a fascinating location. There’s a café at the sanctuary, and food trucks often roll up at weekends, so a good spot to hang out for a couple of hours.

Lagoa de Albufeira

Head north and that golden strip of sand soon begins. Heading north isn’t quite as straightforward as it sounds. The roads in this part are of the maze variety, and finding your way to specific spots is time consuming and requires excellent navigational skills, even if utilising Sat Nav. But it’s worth the effort. Fabulous beaches are ten a centimo in Portugal, but the Lagoa de Albufeira stands out from the crowd as being a bit different. A huge lagoon sits just behind the golden sands, stretching inland for just under 4km. Its eastern end is a sanctuary for birds. In among the marsh willow are grebes, teal, ducks, cormorants, warblers, and kingfishers, whose Portuguese name guarda-rios describes these electrifying birds perfectly. On the lagoon are ramshackle islands consisting of floating huts; fishing is still a vital part of life here, and rows of fishermen can often be seen casting their lines from the shore.

The area of the lagoon closest to the Atlantic draws the greatest concentration of sunseekers. On a sunny January day, we had the beach virtually to ourselves, wandering into O Lagoeiro restaurant overlooking the lagoon for hearty portions of choco frito, chips, and tomato rice without a problem. But in summer months it is a different story.

Costa da Caparica

I’m not a big fan of Costa da Caparica, the northern stretch of the peninsula’s coast, and find it on the garish side, especially after the relative rural tranquillity of the south of the peninsula. For a start, it’s not uncommon to see prostitutes in the shade of stone pines by the roadside, a bizarre sight in a rural setting. Then, when it becomes more built up the further north you travel, the roads are lined with huge shacks selling everything you could think of connected with family beach holidays: from windbreaks and towels to balls, umbrellas, and enormous airbeds. Want a floating flamingo the size of a small boat? Costa da Caparica is the place to get it. Continuing north, the more it resembles any bog-standard resort area, albeit one for Portuguese rather than foreign visitors. The densely populated northern area of the Setúbal Peninsula is not particularly attractive, generally performing the role of an affordable place to live for people working in Lisbon. That’s not to say there aren’t plenty of surprising nuggets to be found, but to do so often requires negotiating confusing urban jungles.

There are mini oasis amid uninspiring architecture. After the tower blocks of Costa da Caparica, Trafaria, on the north west tip opposite Lisbon, has the laidback feel of a South American beachside pueblo.

The beaches on the Costa da Caparica are, admittedly, stunners, but in summer months virtually inaccessible … unless you’re happy to throw yourself into the madness. We did during August, once, finding ourselves crawling for miles and miles in a snake of traffic as everyone searched for the rare beast that was an empty parking spot within walking distance of the golden sands. It was oppressively hot, and the jammed dusty roads claustrophobic; we couldn’t wait to escape to the southern end of the coast which wasn’t anywhere like as manic.

It’s better to visit the area in spring and autumn, outside of holiday season, when it’s still hot enough for quality beach time, but without the crowds.

Named by the Romans after Salacia, the wife of Neptune and the nymph who was the goddess of salt water, Alcácer do Sal is one of those Alentejo towns that is a sight for sore eyes, yet remains hidden from the gaze of mass tourism. Finding six of the best in Alcácer do Sal required a bit of head scratching as I think of the town simply as a particularly picturesque place to spend some time, mostly just wandering around soaking up the ambience. But there’s more than enough to draw the uninitiated.

Thanks to its strategic location toward the southern end of the Sado Estuary, humans have settled the area since the Stone Age. The Romans and Moors both occupied the town, using it as a trading post to transport salt between Europe and the Mediterranean. The Romans gave the town the Sal part of its name, whereas the Alcácer bit derives from Al-Qasr, the Arabic word for palace.

It’s an area rich in produce – salt, rice, wheat, pine nuts, cork – all of which were transported downriver (the Sado is one of the few rivers in Europe that travels south to north) on special galleons, until the railroad became a more efficient way to transport goods. Alcácer do Sal’s importance as a bustling trading centre fizzled out toward the end of the 18th century and, like many similar towns, it faded from view with the loss of its status. Although its riverside façade looks immaculate, wander one street back and the downturn in its fortune becomes more evident.

Still, it remains one of my favourite places in Portugal.

The Main Attraction – The Riverside Promenade

Alcácer do Sal’s location beside the Sado River is its crowning glory. The town is as colourful and pretty as many other historic Portuguese towns, and features the almost ubiquitous Moorish castle lording it over houses which tumble down to the water’s edge below. But I can’t think of another Portuguese town where the buildings only line one side of the river it sits on. It’s a feature which means that you get an urban stroll on one side, while a short jaunt over either a footbridge, or the Iron Bridge, whose span was designed to open to make way for river boats transporting wheat and rice, takes you to Alentejo flatlands and emerald paddy fields.

Blast from the past – Santuário do Senhor dos Mártires

Thanks to its rich history, there are remnants of past occupiers to be found all around Alcácer do Sal, from megalithic burial tombs and sections of Roman road to the crypt at the Pousada. There are also numerous churches, so plenty for history lovers and fans of religious architecture. One we particularly like is the Santuário do Senhor dos Mártires. Located on the western edge of the town, it was constructed by the Knights of Santiago and is one of the oldest Christian temples in Portugal. Inside are frescoes depicting Roman occupation, but what we sets it apart for us is climbing its tower till we are on a level with nesting storks to enjoy the views across the town to the rice fields beyond.

A Serene scene – Walk in the paddy fields

I have a thing about walking through paddy fields, finding something exotic about them, even Portuguese ones. A short walk from Alcácer’s town centre takes you through glistening rice fields, into cork forests, and beneath the emerald umbrellas of stone pines, all natural features which have contributed to the town’s economy. In theory, there are specific routes you can follow from the town. In reality, these aren’t well marked, and finding your way can be confusing. We used a Portuguese military map to plot our route and still had to get creative at some points. For a far more straightforward but still highly enjoyable walk, simply explore both sides of the river.

A taste of Alcácer – Cuttlefish butty

Unsurprisingly, seafood and rice dishes are specialities in Alcácer do Sal. There are a few riverside restaurants such as A Descoberta in which to try some hearty Alentejo fare and regional offerings like various fish and seafood stews. However, my guilty pleasure in Alcácer arrives served in a roll. I was introduced to a choco frito butty the first time we visited Alcácer, and find myself yearning for that whenever I set foot in the town. For something sweet look out for pinhoadas, little diamond biscuits made from honey and pine nuts. A quaint spot for picking up local goodies is the tiny market in a boat beside the tourist office.

Away from the crowds – Scenes of the Sado

The town has two converted salt galleons, the Pinto Luísa and the Amendoeira (not dissimilar to Porto’s rabelos), which are available for half or full day sailings on the Sado. Each hold about 35 people and can be booked through the council’s website – something easier said than done unfortunately. Nearly every time we’ve visited, the two boats have been berthed in the reeds on the opposite side of the river from the town.
But there’s no real need to take to the water for in search of tranquillity in Alcácer do Sal. The place has never been busy when we’ve been there, and once you wander away from the river, there’s even fewer people.

The quirk – The legend of the seamstress

I find the chunky iron bridge somewhat of an anomaly, but the legend of the seamstress is probably quirkier. Some people claim to hear the sound of a sewing machine working non-stop, even saying they can identify its pedal being worked. One story goes, there was a seamstress making a dress for her daughter’s wedding, but she died before the wedding and her ghost continues to work at the gown, still preparing it for the big day. Another version is an abusive and alcoholic husband forced his wife to sew continually in order to make money to feed his habit. The poor woman sewed so much her spirit continued whirring away at the machine even after she died. Personally, I think it’s just the high-pitched buzz of mosquitos from nearby rice fields.

Summary

It’s incredibly easy to sum up this delightful Alentejano town in one line. Alcácer do Sal doesn’t need attractions, it is an attraction.

The first time we walked to it, we started at the village of Peneda, nestled in the depths of a ravine close to the border with Spain. It was a sunny afternoon in February and the receptionist in the village’s small hotel suggested we tackle the short route, under 1.5km, to see the lake. It sounded like a pleasant stroll, but it turned out to be 1.5km straight up a mountain. Well, not quite straight up as the old, cobbled trading path zigged and zagged its way up the side of a ravine which rose like a wall above the Santuario de Nossa Senhora da Peneda, an eye-catching piece of religious architecture which resembles a mini version of Braga’s Bom Jesus do Monte.

The small lake, an intense blue oasis in a sea of gigantic grey boulders and ruddy brown bracken, was a surprising jewel in the rugged landscape. Of course, we knew it was there, it was the reason for torturing our thigh muscles after all, but the sight of the splash of blue crowning the mountain still came as a surprise. We plonked ourselves down at the water’s edge and replenished expended energy with the hikers’ staple, a cheese and ham baguette, while a long-horned Cachena cow lapped languidly at the water a few yards away.

It felt like stumbling across a secret.

Stumbling across ‘secrets’ is a travel writing cliché, designed to make a visit to relatively well-known places sound more like a discovery. And yet, on some occasions it can feel as if that is exactly what it is. Peneda-Gerês is not an area that is particularly well known outside of Portugal. Not only that, walking it without a guide or directions isn’t easy, which keeps the number of visitors low. The path from Peneda is straightforward-ish but tackling the route from other directions isn’t.

An alternative route to the mountain lake in Peneda-Gerês

The second time we walked to the mountain lake we started at Rouças, a village at the mouth of a ravine to the west of Peneda. The first section was easy to follow. However, at Gaveira markings went AWOL, and the assistance of a local woman with a mountain of straw balanced on her back was required. Even she wasn’t too sure about the correct onward route. Now that a proper road connects Gaveira with Peneda, there’s no need for villagers to hoof it across the mountains.

From Gaveira, the path took us through forest glades and across granite slabs over gurgling brooks, climbing out of pastoral lands where granite villages tumbled down the hillside to meet emerald terraces carved into the slopes. It felt like a part of Portugal which was frozen in time, a feeling aided and abetted by the encounter with the woman carrying bedding for cattle.

As we ascended, a more gradual incline than from Peneda but still decent enough, pines and greenery became scarcer, replaced by ferns and hardy shrubs until we traversed the massif’s bald head, a smooth-ish curve mainly made up of huge boulders. Panoramic views across Peneda-Gerês unravelled with every step. It is on this stretch especially that finding waymarks can be difficult. Spotting the evidence of others who have passed this way isn’t so easy when the ground is made from granite rock. It’s at these times a map and compass prove their worth.

And then the pântano appeared, the small artificial lake as deep blue and welcoming as the last time we visited it. It is a gloriously wild part of Portugal, a rugged land roamed by Cachena cattle, wild Garrano horses, and a few Iberian wolves.

Approaching the route from the west rewards doubly. First, the descent into Peneda isn’t as taxing as the ascent out of Peneda, and looking down on the village squeezed into the ravine below is a spectacular climax. The second is the overwhelming sense of achievement at crossing the mountains to arrive virtually at the door of the Santuario de Nossa Senhora da Peneda.

It was more than reaching the end of a walking route, it felt like we’d completed a pilgrimage.

Quite a few agreed Tenerife was better for weather. But when it came to history, culture, gastronomy, and scenery, Madeira won hands down. However, many views were influenced by inaccurate and misinformed perceptions. To take a more considered view on which offers the more rounded and satisfactory travel experience, it’s essential to compare various factors using facts combined with first-hand knowledge.

Weather

The weather site holiday-weather.com lists the average high on Madeira as 22.5C in Aug, while on Tenerife it’s 24C. The average lowest temperature on Madeira is 16C in January. On Tenerife it’s 16.5. Madeira’s sunniest month is September, with 8 hrs of sunshine a day. On Tenerife, it’s August, when there’s 10 hrs daily. When it comes to rainfall, December is Tenerife’s wettest month, with an average 56mm of rain falling. In Madeira, it’s January when 108mm is the average. While stats don’t tell the whole story, the world map shows you all you need to know; Tenerife is 500km further south.

History

Historically, Madeira is more of a lightweight. It was an uninhabited island which, after its discovery in 1419, grew relatively rich on the trade of sugar cane and wine. Tenerife was already inhabited by a primitive race by the time conquistadors settled it. The island lay at the crossroads with the New World, leading to a strong South American connection. Battles at Tenerife are said to have led to the establishment of the Royal Navy as a leading sea force, and the independence of Portugal. Franco orchestrated the start of the Spanish Civil War from Tenerife. There are historical towns and cities whose architecture reflects the influence of numerous nations. So much so, La Laguna on Tenerife is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and was the blueprint for some South American cities.

Culture

Riches in history lead to riches in culture. Madeira reminds me more of the north of Portugal, whereas Tenerife has more in common with South America than it does with mainland Spain. But there is an interesting overlap. At traditional fiestas on Tenerife, people dress in a similar way to revellers at Madeiran festas. You can see similarities in themes as well, the reason being that there were many Portuguese settlers on Tenerife. But where Madeiran culture reflects mainly Portuguese traditions and customs, Tenerife’s incorporates a broader mix, one that even includes the influence of its pre-conquest settlers, and that makes it more unique.

Gastronomy

Generally speaking, gastronomy on Madeira is on the basic side outside of its resorts and main city – consisting of simple meat and fish dishes. I’d go as far as saying we were disappointed most of all in its cuisine. Compare traditional menus on both islands and, thanks to the wider influences, you’ll find a far greater range on Tenerife. Where choice is limited outside of Funchal and the resort towns on Madeira, some of the best culinary centres are located away from the resort areas on Tenerife. In towns where you encounter few tourists, you’ll find contemporary Canarian food close to Michelin standard. Talking of Michelin, Madeira has two Michelin-starred restaurants. Tenerife boasts five.

Beaches

Madeira isn’t renowned for its beaches. Tenerife’s have mass tourist market appeal. Tenerife’s beaches – a mix of black sand, pale golden crescents, and golden imports – don’t hold a candle to those of the eastern Canary Islands, but they are more of a draw than Madeira’s.

Tourism

Tourism on Madeira feels low key compared to Tenerife. There are no sprawling, purpose-built resorts populated by boozy Brits. In general, it’s a laid-back affair which appeals to travellers seeking a serene location. Tenerife’s mass tourism face can be gauche and boisterous, attracting reams of bad press. As I write, videos of English and Welsh football fans brawling in Playa de las Américas are trending. But that’s only one area. Most of Tenerife remains ignored by sun, sand, and booze cruise-seeking tourists.

Natural Beauty

Madeira’s ancient laurisilva forest is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and the area around Santana is a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve. It is a stunning island with dramatic scenery softened by extravagant floral displays, great swathes of agapanthus and hydrangeas. Madeira’s natural beauty is a breath stealer. Tenerife also has an incredible UNESCO World Heritage Site in Teide National Park, and a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve in the verdant Anaga region. Its scenery ranges from volcanic to pine and ancient laurisilva forests. Both are going to delight lovers of natural beauty.

Towns and cities

The meatier the history, the more likely you are to find picturesque towns and villages. I particularly like the colonial centre of Funchal on Madeira, and places like Câmara de Lobos. But, apart from a few pockets, there’s a lack of a historical architecture. There is a far greater selection of historical centres on Tenerife. I’ve mentioned La Laguna previously, La Orotava’s old town oozes nobility, and Garachico is one of the prettiest towns in the Canarian Archipelago. But there are many others which rarely get a mention in travel articles.

Hiking

These are two excellent destinations for hiking. Both offer great variety; although, Tenerife shades it for me. Having created walking holidays across Europe, I still rate it as one of the best places for diverse hiking experiences. Another factor which places Tenerife ahead is that some of Madeira’s best hikes have become victims of their own success. We aborted two due to the sheer volume of other walkers. We still enjoyed superb walking, not meeting many other hikers, but at second choice locations. There are a couple of hikes on Tenerife which also attract an off-putting number of walkers; although, these are now regulated. Ironically, they are not the best walks on the island as those tend to be so far from the main resorts they deter the masses.

Summary

Whether Tenerife or Madeira is better is mostly subjective. I lived on Tenerife for 14 years, so I’m naturally going to lean toward the Spanish island. But the history of each island is well documented, and that also feeds architecture, culture, and gastronomy. These are my opinions, but they are based on facts rather than perceptions, unlike the views of some people who commented on The Telegraph article, many of whom revealed their experience of Tenerife was limited to its purpose-built resorts, one of the reasons so many get it wrong.

Ultimately, comparing Tenerife with Madeira isn’t fair. One has a population of nearly a million, the other is quarter of a million, and those facts influence many of the categories above. A more relevant comparison would be to compare Madeira with the likes of La Palma. But even then, why bother? Each of the islands, whether Madeiran or Canarian have qualities which make them all worth visiting … unless anyone is planning simply to flop on the sand for a fortnight.

For unexpected reasons – a road closure preventing us from passing time at the coastal town of Jardim do Mar – we turned up at Quinta das Vinhas early, to find the reception was shut for lunch.

It’s a small hotel, it’s unreasonable to expect the same levels of staffing as in larger hotels, and we had arrived early. A member of the kitchen staff, who didn’t want to commit to saying we could leave our bags, sought out the hotel’s owner, and he checked us in … after a brief scare when there was no record of us having booked (and paid).

One of the things we like about small hotels is their flexibility. Despite turning up early, we were shown to our room inside the old farmhouse. First impressions were favourable. It was spacy, bright, tastefully and minimally furnished in rustic farmhouse style, with two windows – one overlooking a small garden, the other the pool (on a lower level). When the first flush of new hotel room love had dissipated, we started to notice some flaws.

No air conditioning

We’re used to old houses with no aircon in Portugal, we stayed in one for four years. Open the windows at night and stick screens up to keep the mossies out. However, there was only one screen for two windows. The path to the farmhouse’s lower level was right outside one of the windows. Not a problem during the night, but early evening when we were getting dressed for dinner, it was a choice of closing the shutters and doing it in a sauna or putting on a show for other guests.

No fridge

For accommodation costing just under £150 a night, I’d expect a mini fridge, especially in hot temperatures. Instead, we had to make do with tepid drinking water for the duration; not ideal when your main reason for being there is walking the levadas.

No wardrobe

At first, I searched the room over and over, looking for a ‘secret’ compartment for hanging clothes. There wasn’t one. The ‘wardrobe’ consisted of three coat hangers on hooks on the wall beside the door.

Ghosts in the machine

As expected, sultry nights made sleeping a hot and sweaty affair. Then the weather changed, and the wind swept through the old farmhouse, rattling our bedroom door like an agitated poltergeist.

The wine bar that isn’t

Fancying a glass of vinho overlooking the vines, we popped up to the Wine Bar mid afternoon and were told it didn’t open till 7 pm, when dinner was served there. Having nowhere to have a drink after a day’s hiking was a wee bit of a disappointment. At least there was a local bar/mini supermarket directly across the road. But that’s not quite the same as the hotel advertising it has a wine bar.

The ‘local produce’ menu

A select (not many dishes on it) menu consisting of dishes using local produce sounded enticing, and the food was good, if more expensive than comparable meals elsewhere on Madeira. I asked how often the menu was changed. Because of the ‘local’ ingredients angle, I expected it to be adjusted every so often to reflect seasonal produce. Nope, staff told me it didn’t change throughout the whole year. Even the fish of the day remained the same during our stay.

Premium wines

It’s a vineyard, so we looked forward to trying some local vinhos. Having lived in a wine-producing area, we know the price of good wines in Portugal. At the previous hotel (similar standard) we stayed, bottles of wine started from €16.50. Having a wine list featuring bottles averaging €28 put the Quinta das Vinhas more on a level with Germany and Austria than Portugal. If you’re going to charge luxury prices, then standards elsewhere should justify this.

Checkout

Reception at Quinta das Vinhas doesn’t open till 9 am, the time we wanted to check out to ensure we got to the airport in time for our flight. And the receptionist wasn’t always on the button. We primed her the previous evening, and she opened up at a couple of minutes after the hour, so we considered that a result. But 9 am is late for a hotel reception to open.

There’s much to like about Quinta das Vinhas – the vineyard setting, the charm of the old buildings, the friendliness of the staff, great gardens, nice pools, loads of al fresco places to relax, good breakfasts. But, compared to comparable small hotels we’ve stayed in around Europe, there were areas where it didn’t come up to scratch, not for the prices charged.

Our lasting impression was of a hotel with bags of potential where it felt as though a few corners were cut, maybe because of the pandemic. Nearly all were things that could be rectified relatively easily.

Staying in Santo da Serra, we arrived at the parking area for the walk relatively early, yet it was already rammed. So much so, a human caterpillar stretched along the peninsula’s ridge, looking like a line of ants trundling off into the sunrise. It was also hot, 30C hot, and without shade. We set off along the earthy path with a grumble – it was too hot and there were far too many people dressed for that essential Instagram shot overlooking an ocean that was as shimmery as some of the make-up on show. We managed a kilometre or so before I declared ‘this isn’t working for me.’ Andy agreed. With more and more cars lining up desperately seeking somewhere to park, we fled to the tranquillity of hills at Santo da Serra to regroup and come up with another plan.

Walking on Madeira, unplanned Levada de Serra

Having lost most of the morning, we stayed local. A five-minute drive from the Hotel PortoBay Serra Golf and we were parked on a dirt track leading to the Levada de Serra. It was bliss. There were no other people, the dappled shade was cooling, the air filled with the tube-clearing scent of eucalyptus, and we’d gone the wrong way. My fault. I could say I misread a map which didn’t quite accurately reflect the lay of the land. But the truth was I was rushing, so didn’t take the time to check my surroundings carefully enough. We were following a levada, how can you go wrong? This rookie error resulted in us following the levada south instead of northwest. The result was a walk which was pleasant – with montbretia and hydrangea lining a path which gave occasional glimpses of fertile valleys (that reminded me of parts of the western Canary Islands), the south coast, and the crowded peninsula we left in our wake – without being outstanding.

An 11km out and back route got us back to Santo da Serra in time for a Super Bock Preto on the terrace of a friendly bar/café in the village. It wasn’t either of the walks we planned but it was good enough to save a day that had been in danger of being a bust.

Walking on Madeira, Levada Nova & the coast

After walking for 360m, we were both bent over gasping for breath. The ascent was meaty, 150m over a kilometre, and the sun pounded down mercilessly, but it was four months of not walking that was really responsible. A tip saved us some of the ascent – park at Pedregal instead of Ponta do Pargo – and we were grateful for it. The thing about levada walking is that following the levada itself isn’t challenging but getting to the levada often requires effort. But boy does that make you pleased when you level out. Following a circuit from Pedregal meant all the hard walking was mostly done at the start. This was a route of two halves. The first involved the climb and sticking with Levada Nova as it travelled north. Another thing about levada walking is, because you’re following the winding route of a water channel, there’s little need for navigation. You can relax and enjoy the surroundings – on this case, views across the west coast and explosions of agapanthus along the path.

The second half of the route involved a steep descent where we met a British couple in their 70s on the way up. They usually visited in winter months when the weather was friendlier (i.e. not so hot for challenging ascents). From the Capela de Nossa Senhora de Boa Morte (not a name you want to see at the start of a challenging climb), the path undulated along the coast, passing through tiny agricultural hamlets before, 10.5km after setting off, we closed the anarchic circle back at Pedregal.

Walking on Madeira, Levada Nova heading east

The weather broke for our last two days on Madeira, with wind and rain replacing sunshine. A drive across the interior involved avoiding rockfall and navigating through fog so thick I felt as if I could have pulled tufts off as if they were cotton wool. Despite appalling weather, the car park at Fanal was packed. Subsequently, instead of trying one of the more popular routes, we spent our penultimate day walking a section of the Levada Nova from west to east.

There’s a convenient car park right beside the levada at the Paul do Mar exit from the VE3. As it was a misery of a day, I didn’t expect much, yet it turned out to be my favourite walk. For a start, the lack of September sunshine kept it cooler – you can always dress for cool, rainy weather but you can’t escape the heat. Plus, the rain mostly kept away, apart from some smirr now and again. The mist which had made driving so perilous added atmosphere to jungle-like surroundings. There was also a fascinating contrast between the old and the new. The levada hugged ravines and folds in the landscape while spanking new bridges stepped smartly across them, cutting out kilometres. In terms of variety, dense eucalyptus forest, swathes of sugar cane, white agapanthus, and Japanese chestnuts contrasted with the levada weaving its way through agricultural lands and traditional villages. It was a joy and, without any ascents or descents, we notched up 18km without even thinking about it.

Although this was a taster of walking on Madeira, we expected that by visiting at the end of the Portuguese summer holidays and before the winter walking season kicked in, the showcase paths would be quieter. Maybe they were, but compared to routes we’ve walked in the Canary Islands, they were still too busy for us, making us wonder if Madeira had become a victim of its own success and popularity. However, It’s a big enough island with a lot of potential walking routes. By avoiding the most popular ones, we ended up sharing trails with only a handful of other walkers.

When not to visit Lisbon

The bloggers who didn’t get on with Lisbon chose possibly the worst month to stay in the city, August. It’s too hot and there are too many people around, making getting into restaurants more difficult. When we lived in Portugal, we tried to avoid going to popular locations between mid-June and mid-September when the Portuguese took their summer holidays as they could be uncomfortably rammed. Ironically, there may be fewer locals in the city, which makes it seem even more touristy. And southern European cities at that time of year … phew! Either side of that summer period is better; the weather is warm without being too oppressive (mostly) and the streets aren’t as crowded.

Where to stay

Another massively crucial factor is choosing where to stay. The bloggers had followed the advice of a guidebook and stayed in Barrio Alto. Been there, got the exact same T-shirt. During our first visit to the city, we stayed on same street where the Elevador da Bica is located. Apart from the old funicular, it was a relatively quiet place during the day, sleepy even. By midnight, and way beyond, it was bouncing, people filling the street below the apartment. It was a great scene, but not if you wanted to get some sleep. Other accommodation, a mix of apartments and hotels, in Alfama, Mouraria, Chiado, Avenida de Liberdade, and even Baixa were all quiet. Basically, don’t choose an area with a lively after dark scene if a decent night’s shut eye is the objective.

Avoid Tram 28

Yes, it’s the done thing to take Tram 28. But the queues to get on one are invariably lengthy, and the experience is akin to being in one of the tins of sardines you’ll find in specialist canning shops around Lisbon. The tourist trams on Praça do Comercio may not seem as authentic, but they are a far more enjoyable experience. You get a seat, an old rickety tram is an old rickety tram after all, and the route is virtually the same. Clearly it costs more but, hey, you aren’t a Lisboeta trying to get to work as cheaply as possible.

Break from the crowds

In some cases that may be easier said than done, e.g. if you take Tram 28 or the tram/bus to Belém. But mostly it is possible. The photo below was taken in August at around 10am, hardly the crack of dawn, the year after the travel bloggers complained the city was too busy. Explore reasonably early and even the main tourist drags aren’t bloated. On the same visit, we enjoyed a crowd-free breakfast at the hugely popular Time Out Market for the same reason. Later in the day, simply move a couple of streets away from the main arteries. Lisbon is one of those cities where there is something interesting to see on almost every street yet, like most cities, tourists tend to stick to the same handful of routes. We don’t subscribe to the pre-pandemic view that many popular European cities were ruined because of too many tourists. We’ve written Slow Travel guides for plenty of them, and we’ve yet to find one where it wasn’t the case if you explored on foot, you invariably escaped the crowds, even when it comes to the likes of Venice.

Embrace the city for what it is

Cities have different personalities. For me, the story of the count and the prostitute typifies Lisbon’s. In some parts, its buildings are palatial. In others, they border on being run-down. But even in graffitied backstreets there’s a certain charm, such as in the parts of Alfama where old women still sell ginjinha from their doorways. In some ways these are the richest areas of the city, the truly authentic ones where, no, there aren’t big supermarkets, but there are small local grocery shops, cafes, bakeries and so on.

Similarly, the backstreets are home to many restaurants representing Portugal’s worldwide influence, with some superb gastronomy from its former colonies. And it is a safe city, relatively speaking. There is petty crime. Wherever there are tourists there is petty crime. And we’ve been offered more hash in Lisbon than in any other city we’ve visited. But a simple shake of the head and the peddlers move on. We’ve never felt unsafe wandering around at night, and we’ve walked many shadowy Lisbon streets at various times after dark.

Whether you like any city or not is down to personal preference. We love Lisbon. It is one of our favourite European cities. Yet, its down-to-earth personality, and possibly even its multi-culturalism, won’t suit all. But research thoroughly and plan sensibly, and you improve the odds of getting the best out of a place, wherever that place may be.

However, to be prepared is half the battle when discovering new locations on foot. Here are some tips and information from our experiences of walking in Peneda-Gerês in spring, summer, autumn, and winter.

Where is Peneda-Gerês National Park?

Peneda-Gerês National Park, Portugal’s only national park, sits tucked into the undulating curves of the Spanish/Portuguese border in the far north of the country. Protected landscapes straddle the border in parts – Peneda-Gerês National Park on the Portuguese side, Baixa Limia, Serra do Xurés on the Spanish side.

Getting to the fringes of Peneda-Gerês National Park from Porto is relatively easy. After that, things become more complicated. Roads are decent enough, and enjoyable to drive – if you like country roads that wind through epic scenery and don’t mind giving way to the many animals which get priority – but getting from A to B can be a convoluted business. It’s a bit like negotiating the Highlands part of the West of Scotland. In some instances it can be quicker to drive through Spain to get to some areas of the park than it is to stay on roads in Portugal.

What sort of terrain will hikers encounter walking in Peneda-Gerês?

When it comes to hiking, the appeal of the terrain is vital as far as we are concerned, and walking in Peneda-Gerês doesn’t disappoint. There are rivers and waterfalls, dense forests, trails through pastoral lands, and across exposed mountain tops. This is an attractive, verdant, and diverse part of Portugal, which is partly why it’s our favourite area of the country for hiking.

What is the weather like?

People often consider the north of Spain and Portugal to be on the cooler side, but it’s all relative. I don’t think of either that way. Although Peneda-Gerês is in the north of Portugal, it’s still just further south than the likes of Corsica and Rome, place people don’t generally associate with being cold. Having walked in the area in all four seasons, we found winter and spring most comfortable for walking, with summer being far too hot, and even autumn having occasional uncomfortably hot days. Generally speaking, even in winter months you get warm days in Portugal, but it can be bitterly cold at night. Outside of summer, there is more possibility of rain. But we’ve never experienced much.

Is walking in Peneda-Gerês National Park difficult?

Is the walking difficult? I’d say it was relatively difficult, but not excessively so. The best walking in the park involves decent ascents (reaching over 1000m in some parts) and descents, and there are some seriously steep trails, so it’s not going to suit anybody seeking easy-ish paths with little climbing involved. I’d say it was comparable with some of the walking in the western Canary Islands; the Anaga region of Tenerife, for example.

Are hiking routes easy to follow for independent travellers?

Basically, this question means ‘can I just roll up in Peneda-Gerês and take to the trails without a guide or any directions?’ Personally, I think it would be risky unless you are a very good map reader and have experience of plotting routes. We did it and found routes to suit what we wanted. But a lot of planning had gone into this beforehand as we were putting together a holiday for hiking specialist Inntravel. Plus, for one reason or another, there were a few ‘amendments’ and ‘discarded’ routes during the actual walking of the routes. When we’re doing this as a job, we have time factored in for encountering unexpected problems, and there usually are some ‘problems’ irrespective of where the location is. When someone is on holiday, they don’t have the same luxury.

In our opinion, the infrastructure for walking in Portugal isn’t quite at the level of some other European countries. Subsequently, signposting can be a hit and miss affair. There were plans to improve this on some routes in the park, but it was still lacking the last time we walked there during the pandemic.

My advice to most people would be, to experience the best of Peneda-Gerês, hire a guide or book through a reputable self-guided walking holiday specialist.

Are walking routes varied and interesting?

For us, varied and interesting features are a prerequisite of any good walking route. Peneda-Gerês boasts interesting ingredients by the rucksack-load. A Roman road near Gerês , merchant trails linking villages, pilgrim routes through Peneda and above São Bento, hidden sanctuaries in the middle of the forest, wolf pits around Mezio, tiny granite villages and hamlets such as Soajo and Campo de Gerês, grain stores that look like tombs, bridges over streams and rivers, a spa town, mountain lakes, boulders the size of a titanosaur, free-roaming long-horn cattle, wild horses, and maybe, if you’re as lucky as we were, a wolf.

Are there plenty of accommodation options in Peneda-Gerês?

Quirky, individualistic accommodation is part of the appeal of staying and walking in Peneda-Gerês. There are all sorts, from traditional cottages and rural hotels to pilgrims’ hotels and a converted monastery. But they are all dotted about the place. When we go walking in Peneda-Gerês, we stay in a variety of locations to get the best coverage of the park. Because of the nature and shape of the park, it’s not practical to stay in the one location if you want to experience most of the best walking. It can take a long time to travel from one part of Peneda-Gerês to another, even if on the map it looks a relatively short distance as the crow flies.

If I were to recommend one place to use as a base, it would be the town of Gerês. In my view, the northern part of the park offers the most spectacular walking, but accommodation is limited. Gerês in the south of the park is a nice small town surrounded by forested hills. There’s a good choice of hotels and restaurants. It’s one of the more accessible areas and, as a result, can get busy with Portuguese visitors during some weekends. But that gives it a lively buzz which can make a nice contrast to the sleepy vibes of smaller settlements.

What’s the food like?

It’s surprisingly varied, but maybe not if you’re vegetarian. Meat from Cachena cattle is the big thing in Peneda-Gerês, and there are traditional restaurants serving it in every town. But there’s also good freshwater fish options, and octopus is as popular in these parts as it is in Galicia across the border. Mostly, the food is hearty traditional fare but there’s also quite sophisticated contemporary versions of Portuguese specialities to be found in restaurants in towns like Gerês and Arcos de Valdevez, and the Pousada at Amares. Whatever the dish, moreish batatas a murro (basically smashed potatoes) regularly turns up as the accompaniment. No complains from me for that.

Summary

Walking in Peneda-Gerês is hugely rewarding and reveals yet another fascinating face of Portugal. This is an area that remains still undiscovered by many British visitors. There are some routes which are becoming more popular but, to use a word I’ve applied a lot to Peneda-Gerês, that’s relative. When we’ve walked there, we’ve encountered mostly pilgrims, a few other hikers, and hardly heard another British voice.

But it doesn’t give up all its charms easily, Peneda-Gerês makes you work to experience the best it has to offer.