Far away from Faro

Serendipity
David Caukill
Tue 14 Jun 2016 11:21

Tuesday 14th June, 2016

Off Portugal  36 31.9N  6 44.7W

Today's Blog by David (Time zone: BST; UTC +1)

 

We had a great sail down from Cascais, round Cape St Vincent (the SW corner of the Iberian peninsular). We carried the wind along the south coast for about 20 miles before the wind died and we motored into  Lagos, Portugal. 

 

Now, most readers will know that I have history with Lagos (Lagos, Nigeria that is) so a visit to its Portuguese namesake had been an objective of mine for some time. So it was with some anticipation that we entered the harbour, secured a mooring and then ventured off into darkest Portugal. 

 

Well, we really needn’t have bothered. There we found the English abroad -  on holiday – sunburnt, garroulous, intoxicated and generally fine specimens of humanity exhibiting far more flesh than was wise – a fine example to all those Europeans who are keen for the UK to remain part of the EU.  Gawdhelpus!

 

We walked along the sea front looking for somewhere to eat, preferably somewhere without a preprinted, plastic menu in English offering ‘fish and chips’,  ‘hambuerger (sic) and chips’ and other offerings for the home sick, including with photos of the alleged delicacy. Suddenly someone stuffed a timely leaflet in my hand -  a flyer for a restaurant.  This restaurant was a couple of blocks off the main drag and - most out of character - we decided to give it a try.  It had the feel of ethnic albeit focussed on the trouist trade. Cataplana was on the menu: this  is a generic name for a stew of whatever sea food was left over last night or is past its sell by date – in this case a job lot of clams – spiced up with a bucket load of chopped, farty onions, a bit of pancetta, and then finished with some ‘proper’ fresh food like a bit of cod, or a bit of pork etc. Well, we all partook, washed it down with Mateus Rose (no, really!) and have lived to tell the tale.

 

Up early on Monday, we had to get to Faro for a crew change.  The party now over, morning dawned bright in Lagos and a steady offshore breeze whisked us along the 40 miles of intervening coastline in a falt calm.  ………….. Magic! 

 

The approach to Faro is via a river which meanders about 6 miles through a salt marsh to an anchorage which is still about half a mile from the town.   It was really a quite peaceful anchorage until we realised that we had parked right under the flight path for planes landing at Faro Airport  - about half a mile in the other direction.  Funny that didn’t get a mention on the pilot books…

 

Now Faro is different altogether. They don’t get that many tourists there because there is no nearby beach on which broil yourself while you sleep off your hangover – the nearest resort is Albufeira.  So the town feels quite natural – and Portuguese.  It was very, very hot but that didn’t deter us from exploring  in the midday sun:

 

 

This neo-classical colonial archictecture abounds in both Spain and Portugual – I find it profoundly satisfying to look at it.   In the majority of towns we have visited, the ‘historic’ or old town areas have been pedestrianised - or at the very least traffic restricted - so you can appreciate what it might have been like to move around there before cars exisited:

 

 

The trees are in fact oranges and are presenly abundantly in fruit

 

It is clear that vast sums have been spent in the preservation of this heritage.  In La Coruna, this extended to building extensive underground car parks under the historic areas; in other towns only residential traffic is permitted in the historic areas. It does preserve the feel of the place and perhaps promotes tourism.  If you then pave the roads with, what I am now coming to see as ubiquitous, black and white mosaics:

 

 

then you will surely promote more tourism and more money will be spent in your high streets.  It’s hard to see how the UK’s EU budget contributions could have been better spent.

 

Now Faro is apparently famous for more than its airport – the gateway to the Algarve.  Indeed it is home to a population of aristocratic storks – aristorcratic because they have lived here longer than anyone else.

 

 

The nest high up on buildings, on lamp posts and litter the surrounding roads, together with  any hapless passers, by with their own brand of guano – all the while mainatining their innocence:

 

 

Moi? Nah, not me guv!

 

So, that’s about all folks.

 

I did relcutantly return Richard’s passport to him;  he hobbled off to the airport last night and is now safely home. Doug Hall, another patron of the Hawkley Inn, has joined us and we are now on passage to Gibraltar – about 140 miles down the track.  Today, the wind is light and from directly aft so, to our complete dissappointment,  3 hours out from Faro, we are still motoring. 

 

We will stay a day in Gibraltar then have a two long hops to Barcelona, probably via Cartegena, possibly Ibiza. Our plan is to arrive in Barca on Monday 20th.