Ponta de Sagres

I wonder if anyone has undertaken a  psychological study of the fan base of underdogs? What motivates a lifelong Everton fan, the people who turn out every Saturday to cheer on Port Vale, or Charlton Athletic season tickets holders? Today we followed in their footsteps spurning the bucket list wonder of Cabo Sâo Vicente, Europe's official south-westernmost point, for its nearby 'B-list' brother, Ponta de Sagres.

This latter promontory will never compete as  geographical hot spot with its neighbour, but arguably it is more interesting historically. A massive curtain wall divides the promontory protecting it from attack from the landward side. Beyond are the remains of a series of gun emplacements, dotted at intervals along the clifftops.

Though old, dating from the Napoleonic era, evidence of earlier fortifications abound, including a short section of Henry the Navigator's fort from the mid fifteenth century. The story that the site housed a monastic order founded by the prince  dedicated to developing skills in cartography and navigation are dismissed as a myth by most historians these days. Nevertheless, Henry's role in laying the foundations of Portugal's emergence as the first global seafaring nation is indisputable.

He remains a well loved figure hereabouts, commemorated by statues in Sagres and Lagos; even the toll motorway through the Algarve is named after the 'Infante'.

The original fort was destroyed in 1571 during a raid by Sir Francis Drake, a very bad drawing exists of it produced by one of Drake's men before they blew the place up.

The fort which replaced it was destroyed by a natural disaster, the same earthquake which flattened Lisbon in 1755. Very little remains of this except a small white chapel.

The grounds beyond the curtain wall are extensive, a wooden walkway runs around the perimeter to protect the unique flora and to discourage tourists from wandering too close to the crumbling cliff edge. Local fishermen ignore the danger signs and lodge themselves in crevices, lines dangling a hundred feet or more from the tips of their long rods into the wild surf below.

Every so often illustrated boards inform visitors about the flora, fauna and ornithology of the area. We were particularly fascinated by some small birds, about the size of a wren, they were so light and delicate they balanced on top of the sturdier dune grasses, using them as lookout posts to spot grubs.

The geology pleased Gill, not only the limestone cliffs, mixed in places with more rust coloured rocks, but also the deep sinkholes and caverns produced by wave erosion. 

The  surface of the promontory too is geologically significant - a classic example of a limestone pavement.

If after you reach the pointy bit at the end the mini-encyclopedia of facts gleaned from the information boards becomes wearisome, and the focus on the palpable somehow misses the essential magnificence of the place, then the authorities have acknowledged that too. The final board commemorates a poem about the sea by Fernando Pessoa, the celebrated Portuguese modernist writer. 

Poetry does not always translate well, but you can get the gist of the piece in English. I liked the final stanza particularly. Admittedly, I do have 'previous' regarding these matters. I suppose there is a certain inevitability that I will be drawn to a poem about a headland.

We spent a little over an hour exploring Ponta de Sagres, by now lunchtime was calling. As we found yesterday, restaurants marked open on Google maps can be closed when you arrive in reality. We were hoping this was not the case so far as 'Snack Bar la Sereia' was concerned. It's a small place with a big on-line reputation for the quality of its fish cookery. 

If Portuguese customers comment that the fresh fish they had in la Sereia' was the best they had ever tasted you have to take notice. Seaside beach restaurants are a serious business hereabouts. So far as freshness goes, this should not be an issue, the place is on the first floor of a utilitarian looking  building in Sagres' Baleeira fish dock. Though many of the hip looking restaurants and bars that line Sagres' straggling main street were closed for the winter 'la Sereia' was open and doing a brisk trade.

We ordered a half litre jug of Vinho Verde and following the waiter's instructions went inside to choose 'a beautiful fish'.

 He recommended we shared a biggish dorada between the two of us, it came accompanied by French fries and boiled potatoes - a typical Portuguese combination.

Was it the best fresh fish we had ever tasted? We struggled to bring a better one to mind, maybe the cod 'en papilllote' with puy lentils we had once at Riley's Fish Shack in North Shields came close. Gill left a one word review on Google - 'delicious'.

The entire experience was a triumph of simplicity over sophistication. The fresh ingredients were first class, the charcoal grill cookery spot-on and even the spuds were just right. It takes great skill to make simple things beautiful. I would take great cookery over fine dining any day.

By mid-afternoon we were back at the van. It clouded over slightly, we had been lucky both at the 'Fortaleza' and the fish place - 'la Sereia' means 'mermaid' in Portuguese we discovered. Days like today are special, the reason we travel, a glorious mélange of the extraordinary and the mundane.