The trail to Lagos is not as straightforward as I thought it would be. But it’s not a problem, because I have company with me today.
I have always walked by myself on this trail. I’d often come across people I knew, like that one day I came across Leonie at a cafe, or the many times Claus and I would cross paths in the most unexpected places. But I would always continue on my own, or even intentionally pause so I could separate myself from others. I enjoy walking by myself, and to be frank, I just don’t know how to walk with other people. What happens if one of us is tired and wants to take a break? Do you chat all the way? What if I want to listen to my music?
But today, I did something different: Leonie, Eric, Paula, and I decided to walk together. Leonie is stopping in Luz for tonight, while the rest of us would continue to Lagos. We agreed that we will see how it goes after Luz, whether to continue walking together or not, since Eric has a train to catch he might want to leave earlier.
We all met up at 8 in the morning, all packed and fresh from our sleep in the tent. We exited our camp and, one of the first things we saw was a bus passing us by, saying “Lagos”.
“That could be us,” Eric said. We laughed, but of course, we all marched on as if there was no other option.
Our first order of business was to search for coffee, which took us a while because it was Sunday and most places are closed, but we eventually found ourselves a lowkey cafe that is situated not too far from the trail. I haven’t had breakfast in a cafe since Vila Nova de Milfontes, since I always leave early and most cafes are only open at 8, so it was nice to take my time with the breakfast—coffee with milk and a pastel del nata, with a good company no less. It seems to be the perfect last breakfast on the trail.
“Did you notice that everyone is looking at us?” Eric said. “They’re probably thinking, what crazy people.” Indeed, what crazy people would choose to hike to Lagos instead of just chilling at the beach like everyone else. Sometimes I, too, would look at beach goers laying on the sand, and I would ask myself: why am I doing this? That person on the beach could be me.
But here I am, with three other people who for some reason have a motivation to walk for 220 km over sand dunes and hills. Being in my hiking attire, with a heavy backpack weighing down my shoulders, in the midst of carefree beach goers and their dogs, I didn’t feel like a loon like yesterday because now I have three other people who are just like me.
Walking with other people definitely takes me some time to get used to. Leonie and Eric are chatty hikers, as in they can keep talking while walking. Paula is more of a quiet hiker. I talk, but I talk in my head to myself—I can’t chat while walking without huffing and puffing, much like how I can’t chat when running.
Since Eric and Leonie spent the day with Claus yesterday, I figured he’d be happy to hear from us, so I sent him a picture of us heading to Luz. “Have a fantastic trip,” he wrote back, as if he was a grandfather virtually sending off his grandkids.
The journey to Luz was tough—lots of ups and downs, although they are less steep than yesterday’s. I felt my steps and pack were heavier. Paula echoed the same sentiment, and Leonie said that today was really the first time she could feel her legs.
We got lost (although we never strayed too far from the trail) quite a few times, since the waymarks are getting harder to spot this time. Somehow it has slowly become a game of “spot the waymark”, and my subpar vision clearly does not help here.
When we took a break after a steep climb, we looked to our right where Cabo de St. Vicente was looming at a distance. “We walked from there,” I said. “And now we’re here!”
We have made it this far, not only from Cabo de St. Vicente, but all the way north from Porto Covo. The next 16 km to Lagos should be nothing compared to what we had gone through.
But the good thing about today’s walk is this: I could feel that I was more confident in my walking. I no longer hesitated when faced with a steep descent; I found some little tricks that help me stabilize myself, and I’m starting to grasp what being sure-footed means. Loose rocks no longer intimidate me; I know better now not to step on them whenever possible to reduce the risk of slipping down. I can take big steps when I climb up now instead of scrambling up the hill (although there is nothing wrong with it!). I’m more generous with my breaks this time, which means sometimes I’d have to play catch up with others, but that’s okay.
I had been walking all my life, but I still found myself getting better at walking, which I found quite amusing but also humbling. If there is one thing that I like about myself, is that somehow I always found a new opportunity to learn something new, even if it’s from something as simple as making steep descents over loose rocks. And when I learn something, most of the time I remember them for life. Tomorrow I won’t have any hill to climb and descend, but I’m sure I have learned a thing or two for next time… whenever that will be.
It seemed like it took us forever to get to Luz because of the ascents and descents, but we eventually made it to Burgau after 6 kilometers, and after Burgau, we continued on and eventually descended to Praia da Luz. Just like Burgau, Luz is a whitewashed resort town, which kind of looks like Santorini except it has fewer tourists. I headed to the restaurant to get some bruschetta and orange juice for lunch. Paula waited for me, while Leonie and Eric went to Spar to get some food.
I haven’t chatted with Paula as much as I have with others, so this time we talked and she mentioned that she lives in the mountains, so she’s used to doing little hikes. She did the Camino Portuguese too, and that she’s a nurse. We reconvened at a small square facing off the ocean, and we had our lunch: me and my bruschetta, Paula made her own bread with avocados, and Eric and Leonie with their assortment of bread, salami, cheese, and veggies.
Eric wrapped up his lunch quickly since his train to Faro leaves at 5 pm, though he didn’t leave before we took one more picture together. Once Eric left, the three of us chatted once more: the bed bug infestations in Paris, half-marathons (Leonie is doing Paris spring next year, and I signed up for Hamburg), the books we are reading, surf lessons. The breeze was cool and I didn’t want to leave; I was excited to go to Lagos, but a small part of me wondered what would it feel like to stay in Luz. But of course, I had to go. Paula and I got up from our bench, packed our stuff, and we gave Leonie a hug. Paula will be in Lagos for two days, so Leonie will eventually catch up with her and they can have one more drinks together. “We’ll see each other again, either in Berlin or Leipzig,” Leonie said.
And so Paula and I set off, finally, headed to Lagos.
We were the quiet hikers of the group, so we didn’t talk much, but once in a while we would stop to just admire the sea, or look for dolphins. “Every day, I say, it’s beautiful,” she said. “Today, it’s still beautiful!”
We were incredibly lucky with the weather; sure, the first few days had been hot, and 30 degrees is in no way a proper hiking temperature especially when you’re hiking through sand dunes with no shades to hide from. But with the clear weather, I didn’t have to walk on sand dunes with wet socks, and my favorite part was to see the vibrant colors of the vegetations and the sea and the cliffs come to life. Yellow-ish green, ten shades of blue, sparkling ocean water, burnt sienna-like cliff edges.
Eric had mentioned earlier that after Praia da Luz, there will be a big, looming hill that we have to conquer: the rocha negra. I could see it from the little square where we were having lunch, and it was so intimidating. I was tempted to order another bruschetta, because I was afraid I wouldn’t have enough energy to climb it. But luckily for us, instead of having doing steep climbs like we have done the day before, the paths are meandering so it wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be.
After rocha negra, the walk was more straightforward. We continued walking along the clifftops, still keeping a look out for the dolphins. We realized we had entered Lagos when we encountered more and more people. We were still walking on clifftops but this time, every corner was swarmed with people. I felt as if we were two people encountering civilization after two weeks of being in the wilderness. And even when we encountered people, no one says “ola” or “bom dia” anymore. We were not hikers, passing by other hikers who chose to embark on the same journey even if they were doing day hikes or doing the hike from the opposite direction. We were just tourists, passing by other tourists, in a touristy place.
And this is where I found the answer to the question I had asked myself today, and honestly every day: why did I wake up every and choose to walk from town to town instead of taking the bus or taxi like every other people? The answer is right here, and suddenly it all made sense: the trail gave me the opportunity to explore untouched beaches, to be alone in some of the most beautiful corners of the world, to walk for kilometers without seeing a single soul, to sing along to Taylor Swift in the middle of a field… and suddenly, the 220 kilometers felt so, so worth it. Of course, I would walk, even if it takes me 11 days!
We made our way to Lagos city center, and once we made it to the end of the trail—the Lagos railway station, we were looking for any sign, but there wasn’t any except for an informational board. Besides us, there was a group of three women, whom I had first seen at the cliffs before Carrapateira and somehow had never cross paths again. They asked my help to take their pictures together, and we congratulated each other for finishing the trail.
We sat on one of the benches, and quietly collected our thoughts. I haven’t even finished processing it, but then I heard Paula say with a big smile on her face, “this trip is magic.”
In that moment I decided that, magic is the perfect word to summarize the trip. She may have her own reasons, but I have mine: I wanted to give up on Day 3 (although Leonie kept saying, “you’re lying! You look like you’re fine!”) yet I managed to make it to the end. The somehow perfect restaurant literally halfway of the stage of Day 7. The flawless weather. The starry nights and the Jupiter. The beautiful people I kept crossing paths with.
“One more time,” Paula said, hoisting up her backpack. Her hostel is 1 km away, and she decided to walk: one last kilometer for that day.
Before she left, she gave me a huge hug. “Thank you for walking with me,” she said. “Enjoy your trip! Enjoy life!”
And so she disappeared, and I remained in the train station for a little while. It was well past 5 pm. Eric is probably in Faro now—I hope he manages to catch his flight just fine. Leonie is probably chilling in her tent in Luz. I retrieved my phone and checked my messages—Claus sent me an update, an hour ago. “Found the dinosaur tracks in Salema,” he wrote. “They come from a dinosaur of the suborder Ornithopoda.” Of course, I thought to myself, Claus will spend his extra day in Salema looking for his dinosaur footprints—and of course he will find them this time.
I looked down at my blue shoes that had walked with me for around 300 kilometers through the hills of Spain and the coastline of Portugal, the shoes that had brought me to meet incredible people—regardless whether we’ll meet again or not. And of course, my feet, covered by my shoes. I wouldn’t be here without them. They have been so nice: I arrived in Lagos with no blisters and no persistent pain. These poor feet have struggled through deep sands and walked on rocks and pebbles, though on good days they have got a chance to touch the pristine sand of Portugal’s barely touched beaches. I wondered how many kilometers have I walked with them in my lifetime, and how many more have I got left with them.
I remembered my late grandmother, who enjoyed doing fortune telling for her grandkids. There are two prophecies that I remember she made for me when I was a kid, one being that I will “jalan jauh”. In Indonesian, “jalan” as a verb could mean a few things. I always thought she was talking about me traveling far (jauh = far), but that day in Lagos, it dawned on me that the word “jalan” actually literally means “walk”. Putting it all together, jalan jauh could also mean quite literally that I will be walking far, very far. And she might be onto something here, because even as my hike through the Fisherman’s trail was ending, I already started thinking: where to next?