An artist could rarely want for inspiration in Ferragudo. Nestled in the mouth of the River Arade, blinking sleepily across at booming Portimáo, the village almost restores your faith in the Algarve that was. I had come for a very special boat trip, but first I need to set the scene.
A more painterly sky I have never seen, gossamer white clouds drifting lazily out to sea. As you wander into town, it’s hard to avoid the evidence of artists at work. The fisherfolk cast their nets, fore and aft, and count their catch.
A tidy tangle of lobster pots adorn the quayside, as lobster pots ought. Cobbled and petal carpeted streets creep upwards from the bombeiros, the fire brigade rarely essential in such a watery realm.
A castle on a beach! Who’d have thought it? A romantic image juxtaposed with modern marina on the far shore. Newly laid…
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