For all of my lyrical waxing about how I yearned for solitude in my previous posts, it was probably surprising that today ended with a boogie with new friends at a stranger’s birthday party. I know. Not what I would have expected from a hiking trip either.
I didn’t know what to expect of Arrifana. I only knew that we were going back to the coast today, and starting from this town, according to the guy I met in Odeceixe who walked from Faro (Fisherman’s Trail, Day 4 - Zambujeira do Mar to Odeceixe (19 km)), Arrifana and the towns after that are more or less “surfer towns”. He mentioned it as if it was a warning instead of a neutral statement. I totally get it, though. In the past few days, all of the hostels I stayed in were dominated with exhausted hikers who go to sleep at 10 pm and wake up at 6 am. We really couldn’t afford fewer than 8 hours of sleep, and a late start means we would spend the majority of our hike under the scorching sun, so a good night’s sleep and a morning start are essential. So it looks like my sleeping situation in the next days are going to be different, and not really in a way I was hoping for.
I also find myself a bit sad over the fact that I have to leave Aljezur; if I could afford a rest day, I think I would have done it here. There is no ocean in sight, true, but there is something about walking up and down hilly cobbled lanes in such a historical place; place that went back to as far as the 12th century. There are a couple of small museums in Aljezur that I would have loved to check out, and my hostel was actually one of the better hostels I have stayed at on this trail.
Nevertheless, I didn’t have the time to be somber today. It’s Day 6 today, and in the Camino Portuguese, this would have been my final day. But I still have 5 more days to go, 5 more days of contemplation and being in the middle of nature and who knows what other surprises I will find along the way! I remember during Day 5 of the Camino Portuguese (Camino Portuguese, Day 5 - Caldas de Reis to Padrón (20 km)), Andres, Paula and I talked about how we had just gotten used to the rhythm of the camino, of walking for 20 kilometers per day, of marching on despite the scorching hot sun. The fact that I still have 5 more days on the trail is something I’m truly grateful about.
I left Aljezur early, which was the right call because as soon as I made it out of town, the terrain started to get a bit more challenging. Nothing dangerous, just a bit more steep than the usual, but that means I got a lot of nice views of the valley before joining the coastal path, heading to Arrifana. I came across an area of new villas and houses. A lot of construction was still going on, it looks like the place where people would go on holidays for. I joined the coastline—something largely missing from the latter part of yesterday’s hike—and it was honestly one of my favorite coastlines so far. There was a road, so it didn’t feel as remote, but the view was spectacular. From afar, I could spot cottages perched on the hills, which kind of looks like a more eclectic Santorini to me: Monte Clérigo.
And of course, I couldn’t help but to start sketching.
Many hikers passed me by, a few of them curiously overlooking to see what I was sketching. I finished my sketch right on lunchtime, which was good timing because there were a few options for lunch in Monte Clérigo; I got myself a beef toast, and continued uphill again, walking on the cliffs, this time away from the road. It didn’t take long until I reached the Arrifana Ribât. It’s a Muslim fort that was excavated in 2001; the history of this site went all the way back to the 12th century, and here you can find about sixty graves facing towards Mecca. I took some time to put my backpack down and lay down, the sea breeze lulling me into sleep. At this point I have learned that I was not rushing towards anything for anyone, and the crowd thinning out means it’s very unlikely I will end up walking in a cluster of people, unlike the first four days of the trail.
The path to Arrifana was not straightforward. It was one of those days where I thought I had made it, but turns out there were a couple of more ascents and descents I needed to make. I came out at the main road of Arrifana, perhaps the only road, and checked myself into what seems to be a party hostel: exactly the kind I had in mind when the guy in Odeceixe warned me about Arrifana being a surfer town. My hostel room was empty, save for a bed next to me who was occupied by someone that is definitely not a hiker, judging from the lack of backpack and the amount of makeup scattered over her bed. It was such a 180 degrees from Aljezur, and I found myself wishing I was there instead.
I talked myself into just staying in. I didn’t feel like doing much exploration; this place gave me Bali vibes and I was in the mood for solitary contemplation, and I don’t think this is the right place for that. Maybe I should have walked the Grand Rotue and stayed somewhere else instead, however that means I would have missed Monte Clérigo and the spectacular view that comes after that.
I was insistent on staying put in my drab hostel room until another hiker walked in. I remember her being a German girl that stayed in the same hostel with me in Almograve (which seemed like forever ago at this point), and I saw her in the Arrifana Ribât as well; we smiled at each other as I left my chilling spot. Being bored out of my mind, I casually asked how she’s doing, and then we couldn’t stop talking about our experiences—her still in her hiking attire and me with my wet hair fresh out of the shower. Her name is Leonie and she is based in Leipzig, just an hour south of Berlin; she is also walking all the way to Lagos too, and it’s nice to know people who are planning to do the whole thing.
“What are your plans this evening?” she asked. She mentioned she’s planning to go to the beach to watch the sunset with an American girl who took the bus from Odeceixe and had been staying in Arrifana for two days, and then an American guy with a bucket hat (“you must have seen him around!”, she said. I shook my head.) After that, they’re planning to go to this Indonesian restaurant about 1 km from the hostel. It’s far, but options in Arrifana are sparse - it’s either the hamburgers in the bar downstairs, or the restaurants a kilometer away further inland.
Of course, my ears perked up when I heard the mention of an Indonesian restaurant. I was almost as surprised as I was when I heard there is a Nepalese restaurant in Almograve, but I guess here it makes more sense; I mentioned earlier I felt strong Bali vibes here… my hunch was not wrong.
I told her I’ll join her for dinner; I still didn’t feel like going to the beach. When she left, I changed my mind, and decided that maybe this place is not so bad after all. The only way to find out the answer is to go outside and explore.
So I headed to the beach, walked an extra kilometer, climbed down the cliff fully realizing that this means I had to do another climb up, and enjoyed one of the most beautiful sunsets I’ve had in my recent memory. I was alone, but not really alone: it was a touristy beach, and there were many people around me: surfers, families, couples. I didn’t see many solo sojourners in sight, and as much as I enjoy my own company, that would have usually made me feel a bit down. But this time, I feel that everything was just right: just me, the sunset, my Kobo, the rolling waves, and gratitude over the fact that I’m experiencing this, right here, right now.
When it started to get a bit colder, I dragged myself up the cliff, back to the main road, and found that Leonie and her friends were heading back to the hostel because they were too tired to walk all the way to the Indonesian restaurant. I also didn’t feel like walking yet an extra two kilometers, so we decided to meet up in the restaurant downstairs. The restaurant and the yard was full of people: it turns out there was a birthday party, and it felt like the entire Arrifana was there, and everyone knows everyone, and everyone was dressed to the T in glamorous attires. Except the hikers, of course. It was easy to spot the hikers in the sea of fashionable locals: there was Leonie, and the American guy with the bucket hat whom I’ve actually seen in Odeceixe, and the American girl that I don’t think I’ve encountered before.
We gathered in a table, and we saw the Italian girl and guy walked in, and so we ended up in this big table with our hamburgers. We discovered we will be staying in the same camping site in Sagres, and that all of us except for the American girl will be walking to Lagos, so I expect to come across them in the next few days. When the DJ started to turn up the volume and we were finished with our hamburgers, we headed to the yard and started dancing, reveling over the fact that we somehow ended up in this party in Arrifana of all places halfway through what was supposed to be a contemplative, relaxing hike. I lost track of time until I realized that it was inching closer to midnight and I haven’t bought my supplies for tomorrow; I’m running out of water and I have no snacks except for two packets of trail mix and a protein bar. Before I went to bed, I dropped by the receptionist to check if there was any minimarket or supermarket here.
“There is no supermarket in the area,” she said.
Well, I guess I’m doomed.