It is illegal to capture chameleons

On the other side of the estuary, which is just down the road from our accommodation, there is a great big, Aussie style beach. It is fringed by the Atlantic and once was the scene for vast fisher nets, fisherfolk and tuna. These days, there are a few fisherfolk but, mostly, the beach is inhabited by day trippers.

You reach the beach by crossing a lifty bridge that spans the estuary, then you either walk a kilometre or you catch the little train. We caught the little train.

We had a rather late start today. I was tempted to write this morning only I don’t think it was when we headed out. Not that it mattered. We both believe that holidays are meant to be relaxing. So that’s exactly what we did: relaxed into the day.

But, back to the beach…

Tuna fishing was big business here on the beach. Fisherfolk would head down at the beginning of the season, live in simple huts and then get into the business of catching big fish. They used a series of nets, arranged to form a sort of underwater corral. The fish would be pended into a big pool, where the fisherfolk would spear them onto their small boats.

While that was not that long ago, tuna fishing in this part of the Algarve can be dated back to 8-3BCE. There is also proof that the Romans shortly followed by the Christians also fished for tuna up until the 7th century. The Romans loved their seafood and, of course, Catholics need fish for Fridays because…well because they’re weird.

The nets used by the later fisherfolk were anchored to the seabed using actual anchors. When not in use, these anchors would be placed on the dunes, interlinked and waiting for the next time they were needed. The anchors are still there, slowly dissolving back into the earth. They are now in what is known as the ‘Cemetery of Anchors’, a place that brought me great joy.

The day was perfect for sitting on a beach and reading. Okay, the photo above does feature a few clouds and there were some that threatened the serenity of the beach goers but, the temperature remained pleasant, and the rain stayed away. It was perfect.

And there were quite a few beach goers, other than us, dotted around. Some were sitting and chatting, others walking along the sand, some with dogs, a couple doing yoga. It was blissfully perfect. So much so that Mirinda took the opportunity to go for an hour’s walk.

The beach had a whole load of plastic recliners on it. None of them had German towels on them, so I assumed they were free for use by anyone. I laid back and opened my book. Life was beautiful.

For a bit.

I had to move at one stage because a group of guys decided the beach was too idyllic and needed some crappy phone produced music. Still, it takes all types to make up a group of beach goers. As soon as I was beyond earshot, all was good. And I had a jolly good read.

I’m not normally a big ‘beachy’ person, but I have to say, it was a lovely way to spend an hour. It helped that the sand was super fine and not the big boulders so prevalent on British beaches.

After Mirinda returned, we headed up to the very convenient Museu Do Atum, beach restaurant for a massive lunch. It was so massive that it also counted for dinner.

My sea bream was superb, but Mirinda’s super salad was a thing of great wonder and delight. It was a shame to eat it, but at least I took a photo first.

The big round thing is goat’s cheese and the thing on top is a bread stick. According to Mirinda it was all delicious.

Both of our meals weighed us down like a couple of anchors but, eventually, we managed to drag ourselves up and out of our chairs and back to the little train.

By the small station there was a big sign warning people that there were chameleons in the dunes (we’d only seen a homeless guy and thousands of sparrows who he enjoyed talking to), along with the admonition that it is illegal to catch them. The sign did ask people to photograph them if seen and send the photos to the chameleon sighting website.

Back on the other side of the estuary, we collected the car and headed back to our accommodation for a bit of a rest which aided in our digestion somewhat.

It’s our final night in Santa Luzia. It’s been a marvellous few nights; a wonderful find. I think we come back some time.

Tomorrow we head for Santarém, our intended, final destination.

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