Just a Relaxing Stroll from the Beach

I'll start by clarifying that the title of this blog is sarcasm, as in, this was anything but a relaxing stroll from the beach.  While preparing for my trip to Lagos, I looked up some of the surrounding beaches and how to get to them.

There is a great website (of which I still need to give a little feedback to) that suggests this route.  You can see how it is described, and although it does recommend not getting too close to the cliffs, it forgot a couple important pointers like bringing your hiking boots, and your rope and pulley system to get yourself across the crumbling walls you would be scaling.

The walk started off a little ominous.  We couldn't locate the start of the trail, and finally spotted a path off in the distance through what looked like a gate to personal property.  If only we would have known what the future held while looking each other in the eye and shrugging "what the heck.".  Wish I had a picture of that green iron gate.

The path was a bit unpleasant, with tall brush and bristly wild flowers scratching our ankles and snagging our clothes. Yet, we pushed on with wild anticipations of the views that were to be offered, and the flowers and Jurassic size succulents were pretty cool.  I should set the stage a bit to say we were walking safely a couple feet from the edge of about a fifteen story drop.  I counted the stairs up from one of the beaches and it roughly equated to being that high.

Not smiling inside.

After a good twenty minutes of wishing we had a machete, I come upon what seems to be the edge of the Earth.  The trail appeared to simply end, leading you directly off the side of the cliff.  What the?

Now, I am afraid of heights.  I also am adverse to risking my life.  Neither of these two attributes persuaded me to get any closer to that edge.  Because I also was not keen on sweating myself back through what I just came from I persuaded Rachelle to take a look over and tell me what she saw.  "Oh ... my ....  you totally have to take a picture of me right now!"    Great.

So I mustered up the courage to look over the edge and saw carved out of the side of the cliff was a set of stairs, no edging, leading down into a little tunnel that turned like a spiral stair case, and then more stairs down.  They must have been there for ... could be millennia.  They were weathered and crumbling, covered with gravel.

So, this wasn't just the height issue, but the fact that they were not stable.  I chose wisely to slide down them on my behind - sacrificing a pair of white shorts seemed like a very cheap trade off for my life at this point.  Rachelle graciously documented this not so glamorous experience for me.

After I got down that I of course thought it could not get any worse, and was optimistic this poor choice must be coming to an end - this was only supposed to be a 30-50 minute "scenic stroll"!  Not so lucky.  The next part we are hunching through an ancient bamboo forest that reveals a rickety old piece of wood crating thrown over a raveen.  That seemed like child's play after the stairs.  No problem.

What awaited me next is where I almost hit my breaking point.  Now sliding in sweaty flip flops, the trail all but disappears into an orange colored rock mess and I am starting to appreciate I had done some rock climbing in the past (look for solid hand grips, take your time to assure your foot is planted).  The grand finale is when I came upon a very large "step" I had to take that cross over a huge crevasse, and it was then that I started to think I just might not survive this.

Praia

There was solid probability my next step would slide, and I along with it, to splat on the gorgeous nude beach below - much, much further below.  It took some serious self-chatter to convince myself to take that leap (and I was NOT going back up those stairs), and I made it.  And I tell you what - what a feeling.  I can do anything.


From that point on, all we had to do was climb back up a serious set up stairs carved out of the cliff, but these at least were not on the edge.  At the top, an ancient plaque noting "praia" below (beach in Portuguese).  Wow.  Imagine the people that put that there decades, if not centuries, ago.  I bet they were hot.

Look close, the stairs are in the cliff on the left

As we pushed our way through some more vegetation, we finally popped out back on the top again, only to be greeted by two leathery, short old Portuguese men with "You are crazy!!".

They had been watching our entire adventure - us glowing in our beachy neon brights - traversing that cliff-side trail.  I sort of think they were our guardian angels, and at least would have been able to dictate the last hour of our lives to the newspapers should the worse have occurred.

Alive!!!

I felt so exhilarated I let out a roar as we got to that solid ground.  Yes, those old men certainly must have thought we were crazy.  It's such a good feeling to know you're alive, it's such a happy feeling ...  wouldn't do it again, but proud I did it once.