Shoreside at Marina de Lagos
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On the 11th of August we rounded the southwest corner of Europe -- Cabo de Sao Vincente. After sailing southward 1,592 miles from Scotland we were finally pointing eastward toward the Med.

The first day, pointing toward the Med was about as far as we chose to get. Just 3.8 miles east of the Cape we dropped anchor in a small bay under the cliffs at Sagres. We pulled in at 11:00 a.m., rested after the overnight sail from Cascais, jumped into the clear water for a swim with the hundred or so fish that seemed to enjoy the shade provided by our hull, had dinner in the cockpit, and called it a night.

The semi-circular Ensenada de Sagres is sheltered by cliffs that give way, midway thriugh the arc, to a sandy beach. As we dined at sunset, the cliffs came alive with color. Atop the cliffs at the western part of the bay, close to where we anchored, we could see remnants of the base of Infante Dom Henrique, a/k/a Henry the Navigator, who is credited with launching the Portugese voyages of exploration in the first half of the 15th Century. From Lagos, where we are now docked, his ships sailed south to explore the coast of Africa. Other ships were sent westward into the Atlantic, where the discovered, and reached their limits, in the Azores.

With its beauty, history, and perfect shelter from the prevailing northerlies, Sagres would be a difficult anchorage to surpass. Yet we shared the bay that night with only one other boat. For others, the attraction of Lagos, 18 miles east, was apparently too great to stop short.

Even with our night at Sagres, we arrived at Lagos a day ahead of our two week reservation (two weeks to allow Lorraine to visit her mother back in the states). With dozens of unoccupied docks, a premature berth was no problem. Along the entire coast, a call the day before arrival was more than enough to assure a dock space.

Lagos (which we visited 10 years earlier after a prior trans-Atlantic) is a beautiful destination. The marina is a little more then 1/2 mile from the sea, at the end of a straight line channel. The old city of Lagos unfolds to port. A 17th century fort, still surrounded by its moat, stands at the entrance. Directly behind the fort remnants of the town walls come into view. The segment of the wall near the channel entrance is said to date "from the Cartheginian or Roman periods, with subsequent Arab and Christian additions." Then comes the promenade along the channel, with its rows of palm treest and white buildings. Architectural flourishes on the buildings reflect the five centuries of Moorish habitation that ended with the "reconquest" of Portugal in the 13th Century.

To starboard, a broad beach extends beyond the harbor entrance, followed by a small harbor reserved for fishing and tour boats, followed by the stylish restaurants, hotels and residences that surround the marina.

The two banks are connected by a pedestrian draw bridge at the entrance to the marina. Although English is spoken almost everywhere on the left bank, and some good Portugese cuisine can be found on the right bank, the foot bridge seems to transport you to a different place and time. It is possible to take in the Cartheginian/Roman/Moorish/Portugese side of town in the morning, and cross back to have a pub lunch over that day's edition of the Daily Telegraph or Times. It is the perfect place for travelers of my ilk who like the foreign part of foreign travel in moderation. Exotic architecture, local cuisine, and ancient history are all fine and good. But I have never been in a place that couldn't benefit from a selection of English newspapers in the morning.


A few passage notes:

During the blog black-out from Povoa to Lagos we stopped at Figueia do Foz and Cascais. The 77 mile sail from Povoa to Figueia was exhilerating. We were broad reaching in swells that were generally a bit over two meters -- a common occurence on the Portugese coast. At regular intervals, however, larger swells formed and began to curl, forming long lines of white foam along their crests. At the wheel, you could hear the "white horses" catching up, then feel the stern lift below you, sending the boat on a short sleigh ride until the crest passed ahead of the beam and moved on. For a short while, as the boat settled into the troughs behind the larger swells, all that could be seen ahead was a receding mound of water.

The stronger winds that generated these swells reached Figueira well after we did, producing gusts of 30 to 36 knots in the harbor.

From Figueira, we took an overnight sail to Cascais which (with close competition from Lagos) is the jewel of the Portugese coast. The marina certainly aspired to provide every possible amenity, including a space on the super-yacht pontoon for yacht owners to land their helicopters. Despite the effort, there were no helicopters or superyachts at the marina during our stay. But other signs of wealth, current and vestiges of the recent past, were everywhere. There was no doubt that this is a good neighborhood.

One indicia of a good neighborhood is the number of royal families who have chosen to set up housekeeping there. Even deducting a few points for royals who moved in only after being exiled from their own countries, Cascais scores well on this criteria. In 1870, the king of Portugal established a summer residence in a citadel adjacent to the marina. The citadel remains an impressive sight, and the restoration of the palace, visible above the ramparts, is nearly complete. Cascais and neighboring Estoril became the home-away-from-home for other royal families during the Spanish Civil War and World War II. Prince (now king) Juan Carlos of Spain moved in, and he was joined by royal families from Italy and a half dozen other European countries.

Cascais has a significant collection of elegant buildings, small museums, gardens and sculpture. A particuarly pleasing collection of modern sculpture was wrapped around the base of a lighthouse -- which itself qualifie as a work of art -- next to the marina. Such was the attraction of Cascais that we cut short a day trip to Lisbon (less that an hour away by train) to return to its cngenial atmosphere.


We plan to leave Lagos and Portugal on September 1, and head toward Gibralter. The current plan calls for one stop at the Spanish port of Rota, and then a day sail from Rota, past Cape Traflgar -- the scene of Nelson's great victory in 1805 -- to the Rock. (Nelson, who died in the battle, arrived at Gibralter preserved in a cask of rum. We hope to do better.)