‘We should not want foreigners to visit us en masse’. (Dictator António Salazar in 1938. Note portrait of Mussolini on his desk.)
Actually I have some sympathy with that view as long as I’m one of the few allowed in. However, Mr. Salazar was not thinking of my future, undisturbed vacations, rather he preferred Portugal not to be infected by foreign notions, say democracy. So, the wealthy of the 1930s would be encouraged to visit, sunbathe, party and gamble, but well out of the eye of the average Portuguese. Still, a pre-war tourist trickle eventually became a flood ... and in introducing new ideas is said to have had at least a partial role in the regime's eventual overthrow.
In summer, the Algarve heaves. Not in March though. I pose on a deserted Atlantic beach, which nicely allows for a quotation from Hilaire Belloc’s 1942 book, Places:
“If there is one portion of Europe which was made by the sea more than another, Portugal is that slice, that portion, that belt. Portugal was made by the Atlantic’.
One of Salazar’s missions had been to encourage ‘right’ sort of tourist; another was to remind the Portuguese of their country’s past greatness. That meant the golden age of exploration when sailors such as Bartholomeu Dias, Vasco da Gama and Ferdinand Magellan (Fernão de Magalhães) set out on monumental journeys of European discovery.
Close to where I’m staying one of those wonderful Portuguese tile creations evokes - with a false sense of the romantic - the start of a long and dangerous voyage.
Although he never set sail himself, much credit for encouraging exploration goes to the 15th Century Prince Henry the Navigator, seen here in a nearby town .
The same sculptor, Leopoldo de Almeida, also created …
… Lisbon’s Monument to the Discoveries, one of the most important artistic commissions of Salazar’s time. The claim (and Portugal was not alone in this) was that Christian Portugal had embarked on a God-given mission to benefit less fortunate lands. Even now in Portugal, poorest of western European nations, there is a wistful sense of loss harking back to the Age of Discoveries. Nostalgia is something of a national industry.
And so we come to Cabo de São Vicente, Cape St. Vincent, extreme southwest point of Europe. For Portuguese mariners their last sight of home.
For visitors, well, maybe not all visitors, the view is impressive. Certainly the not-easy-to-impress writer of my 1875 Murray guide thought the effort to get here worthwhile: ‘The view here will make amends for the wretchedness of the ... journey. Three quarters of the view are taken up with the Atlantic in its wildest form …’
The waters are indeed historic and not just for the Portuguese. Three English naval victories - 1780, 1797 and 1833 - occurred here.
‘Nobly, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the North-West died away;
Sunset ran, one glorious blood-red, reeking into Cadiz Bay;
Bluish 'mid the burning water, full in face Trafalgar lay;
In the dimmest North-East distance, dawned Gibraltar grand and gray …’
(Robert Browning)
Unquestionably, the Algarve’s less frequented western coastline is a highlight of this trip.
We come across one of the most magnificent stretches of beach, cliffs and surf I’ve ever seen.
If you click on the picture above, you’ll see surfers …
… preparing to catch a wave.
A visitor peeks over the edge …
… to watch far below a small boat - safely, I’m glad to say - navigating a channel.
The scenery is superb …
… and, for me, the coastal sun intense, even harsh (and the temperature’s just 19) is only manageable with sunglasses. Despite being on the often foggy Atlantic, the air accentuates the light. And, of course, it was the light, in part, that attracted northern European artists and writers (such as Byron and later Browning) to southern shores in the 19th Century.
