The virtually infinite beach along Portugal's Atlantic coast is protected from commercial
development. 
Variations on rusty red show the years that have passed making this sandstone.
Sara takes in the Magic Hour. |
EXCERPT FROM SARA’S JOURNAL August
3, 1999
Praia de Gale, Portugal
Secret Beach
At the end of a 4-kilometre dirt road at the centre of the Parque Natural de Arrabida
– 10,000 hectares of mountain and coastal reserve on the Costa Azul – there is
nothing but a forest of eucalyptus, pines, sand dunes and a never-inhabited and infinite
beach. Within the pines, among the dunes, is a campground, a bar and restaurant, a
swimming pool, tennis courts – a resort for those in the know – us, a handful of
Lisboetas, and a few hundred idealistic Swiss peace corps teenagers. They hold
hands in summer love, they sing songs after dusk – like a choir of angels over the
surf, collectively peeling several thousand kilograms of cucumbers and carrots for a
shared evening meal.
This place is a secret of Portugal – it’s unspoiled and yet equipped for the
legions of happy campers that may find themselves at the end of this road in search of
menacing surf and eucalyptus perfume. Each morning at 9, a truck comes down from the
secondary road and delivers varieties of roggenbrot, Portuguese buns, almond biscuits and
the day’s catch – octopus, sardines, tuna, barracuda. Prevailing winds keep the
pine forests cool, beneath the canopies are beds of needles and sand. At 10’oclock an
orange globe drops off the edge of the Portuguese horizon. Where does it go? The waves
pick up, every campsite sends a smoke signal of charcoaled fish, and a dampness settles on
our down comforter. |
Beach access is restricted to only a few paths cut into the brittle sandstone.
Rich gazes down at the beach from where the campground ends and the beach begins.
A sandcastle that has yet to be topped on this beach.
At 10’oclock an orange globe drops off the edge of the Portuguese horizon. Where does
it go?
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