1984 (9) – Vilamoura, Portugal

The marina at Vilamoura, Portugal

To go to the beginning of this book, Tropic Moon: Memories, click HERE.

We were anchored in Sagres for three days while a levanter coated our boat with gritty red sand from the beach.  A levanter is strong Mediterranean winds, with wind speeds of 40-50 knots.  A levanter generally comes up with little warning, rapidly increases in strength, and usually blows from the east for three days.  Unless you were heading west, you just sit tight and wait it out.

The Algarve - the southern Portuguese coast

There was an additional 40 miles of coastline to travel along to reach our destination of Vilamoura, on the southern coast of Portugal.  We saw countryside new to us - sandy beaches, backed by steep red sandstone cliffs, and white houses with red tile roofs.  Desolate stretches of rustic beauty would suddenly give way to areas of high-rise condominiums and hotels - very "Miami Beach" in appearance.

Vilamoura

We reached Vilamoura on August 29th.  Vilamoura had a large marina with over 1000 berths.  There was a shopping center with bars, restaurants, boutiques, and more practical businesses like a supermarket, laundry, bank and pharmacy.  The whole package was surrounded by high-rise condominiums and hotels, complete with beaches, tennis clubs, pool clubs, golf courses, horseback riding, a cinema and a casino. 

Entrance to the harbor in the background. 
Portuguese fishing boats moored to the shore.

We had a comfortable berth at the marina - no trouble getting on or off the boat, because the docks floated.  They rose and fell with the tide, along with the boat.  Water and electricity came with the berth.  We'd use our hose for fresh-water showers on the dock.  Those showers were especially welcome after walking back, salty and sandy, from a swim at the nearby beach.

The beach at Vilamoura

Early one evening, Ed announced he was going for a walk.  I decided to tag along, and we headed for the beach.  It was the night of the full moon.  When we reached the water, we looked eastward and saw the biggest, fattest, yellowest moon rising among the condominiums of Vilamoura.  In the other direction, the beach stretched away for miles of sand, red cliffs, and no buildings, so we turned our backs on the moon and headed west. 

Red, sandstone cliffs

The sun was just setting; the sky was a brilliant orange, contrasting with the gunmetal gray of the sea, but coloring the wave-washed sands a burning orange to match the sky.  The crowds of the day were gone; only a few couples strolled the beach.  We walked westward, the orange always glimmering ahead of us, but disappearing behind us with each step we took, as if we were erasing the color from the surf with our progress. 

Beach at Vilamoura.  A lighthouse at the harbor entrance
is visible in the background.

I had thought to save the moon for the return trip, but it was impossible not to occasionally glance over our shoulders as the moon rose higher in the sky, shrinking a bit in size with its ascent.  We passed the popular beach area, and continued along the red sandstone cliffs, which stood tall, like dark sentinels.  Still the sky and the wet sand held their color, darkening slowly from orange to red. 

A beach that went on forever.

I'm usually the one who says we've walked far enough, but I felt I could walk on forever in that beauty.  It was Ed who finally remarked he was hungry for supper, and we turned back.  On the return walk, the moon was so bright that the thought of sunglasses (moonglasses?) crossed our minds.  As we walked, we were trailed by our long-legged shadows, stretching out on the beach behind us.  Up ahead were the winking red and green beacons of the two lighthouses on the breakwaters, marking the entrance to the harbor.  On our right out to sea were the scattered white lights of the many small Portuguese fishing boats plying their trade.

Another view of the marina at Vilamoura.