by Patricia Carvalho

A fast-packing adventure to another corner of my soul

I headed to Portugal a week after my icy Deas-Ghnàth in January.

I had a few commitments, some included running, some just normal life stuff and I wanted to really spend time with family and friends, for once.

My plans for the rest of the time were loose, but one thing I knew for sure: I wanted to go to the Fishermen’s Trail. I wasn’t sure if I would feel up to doing the whole thing or just a short section, you know, like a normal person.

This coastal trail has been on my radar since its very first iteration of short sections that were just a bonus to its bigger brother - The Historical Way - an inland trail on mostly dirt roads.

Over time, the genius minds at Rota Vicentina saw the bigger potential. They developed the FT to cover the whole of the Southwest Coast of Alentejo and Costa Vicentina nature reserve, and later on added the Sagres to the Lagos section. This resulted in what might just be the most beautiful coastal trail in the world, I may be a bit biased, but it is pretty fantastic!

The combination of “endless” miles of soft sand dunes at its northern end, interspersed with jaw dropping technical cliff edges, magnificent beaches the kind of every surfer’s dreams, with a short section joined up with the historical way dirt roads to the edge of the hill ranges, makes its roughly 230km quite the challenging endeavour.

The truly life changing type of trail for some..maybe even for me.

About a month prior, I had written up in my lil notebook of adventures the distances of the 13 sections the trail is divided into and how I would split them up into five days, just in case.

There was no particular reason for the five days. It wasn’t an FKT attempt or anything; on paper, the distances seemed logical to my Ultra-wired brain.

Let me say that again, on paper, yeah in real life the days were tough and long and at the end of day two I questioned if I had been too ambitious. I knew I didn’t want to just run nonstop, all through the night, end up seeing nothing and have a huge amount of pressure spoiling the experience.

The radiant crescendo of life and the peculiar habit of planned spontaneity

I wanted to have the freedom to take more time and connect to the trail.

To stop to breathe in the ocean air and marvel at mind-blowing cliffs, aw how I love cliffs!

To make navigation mistakes without feeling stressed with time lost.

To be captivated by the constant changes of the geological features and stop to admire them.

To sit on a rock and watch the sunset with all the pretty colours.

To chat with other free souls I may encounter.

To eat all the ice cream I could find!

To feel the sun and the salty air on my skin.

To enjoy the breeze on my face.

To run through the sand without worrying about it getting in through the holes in my shoes and, to then, inevitably, constantly try to take the sand out through the same holes!

To watch the surfers ride the waves.

To wish I was a wave playing on the beaches and with the cliffs.

To shuffle through the various intertwined animal prints on the canvas, the soft sand covered by the early morning dew created a busy highway bustling with life before the day grew light.

As I moved through, disturbing nature’s beautiful art piece, I imagined the majestic Iberian Lynx, the agile wild rabbit, the cheeky little birds, the bolder, bigger birds, possible doves or maybe even a buzzard, and a brave tiny mouse, all going about their lives interacting briefly in the business of survival.

Prey or predator, all passed through those sands that I now moved through with the same gratitude for being alive one moment more.

To watch the stars slowly take their place in decorating the darkening sky as I searched for trail markers with the glow of my head-torch.

I wanted to fully embrace my transient state on this journey of ephemeral unforgettable moments while finding my roots on the grains of sand, on the rock faces, on the whispers of the ocean wind and on the roar of the breaking waves.

So I packed my huge paper map of the trails and some extra gear and came sort of prepared so I could then be spontaneous.

Yeah, I’m that kind of spontaneous weirdo, the kind that plans things with a million options, so I can then be free to just adapt to whatever happens on the spot and be spontaneous, if that makes any sense?

Inertia, the compelling external acting force and “Machete”

It was Thursday the 1st of February, and my mind started to ask for a decision. “Ok, I’ll do it next week, Wednesday to Sunday, yeah, sounds good.”

This would give me time to prepare mentally, work out the details regarding accommodation etc, and have a little more rest.

I sat in my brother’s living room on the laptop reading through the trail notes and searching for the courage to commit to my thoughts.

“Oh there’s a Storm coming next weekend, I just saw the weather forecast” said my brother Paulo.

“Aw, really? Let me see that...hmmm..shit yeah, that ruins my plans”.

Alarm bells rang in my head, and I felt the anxiety building up; deep down, I knew what I wanted to do, but I was still a bit scared of the magnitude of what this adventure entailed.

At this point, I had only done a two-day fast packing adventure with a very cold ridge bivvy; sure, I’ve done 200 and 300km races and 20-24 hour days out there mostly on my own, but this was five days through terrain I had no knowledge of, carrying a heavy pack, without support and on my own, the whole time.

It was exciting but pretty daunting too.

I was meeting my friend Sara that day and she mentioned she’d be happy to give me a lift to the start and I could borrow her bivvy and any other gear I didn’t have with me if I wanted.

I had intended to stay in hostels and whatever cheap accommodation I could find, but I was worried about needing to stop before reaching the main villages, so I took the offer for gear. In the end i never used it but having it with me gave me huge peace of mind and that extra confidence that I would be fine if i had a problem and needed to stop anytime, anywhere.

That evening, my body was in the room, but in my head, all these thoughts raced back and forth.

“To avoid the storm, I have to start Saturday; that’s one day to prepare! It’s after tomorrow”.

“I don’t know if I’m ready”.
“Can I even do this?”.
“Do I have everything I need?”.
“Go to sleep!..just in case..”.
“But I really want to do this trail before I leave”.
“Ok, I’ll make a decision in the morning”.

Faster than ever the morning came, now Friday.
The butterflies in my stomach and the electricity tingling through my body left no room for doubt.

“I’m going for it! Tomorrow I start! Shit!”

Both Sara and my brother agreed to take me to the start and have a wee road trip. I got my shit together as best I could and Saturday quickly came by.

A fun drive to Sines and the start at S.Torpes, as usual, when I’m nervous humour is my weapon of choice and we spent a good time of the +/- 3hr trip laughing and talking silly more than serious.

A quick coffee and ice cream at the restaurant at the start, two hugs and I was off to not see any familiar faces for the next five days.

On the way to the start, I created a WhatsApp check-in group for safety, with a selected few people who were recruited without warning, whether they liked it or not, to become my virtual checkpoint team.

The habit of taking a photo of the trail information board on every section start/finish and send to the chat became a comforting milestone, and eventually, the crazy started to build up and manifest with random pictures and jokes spun from things I saw or happened. Or from the fact my brother made me watch “Machete” the night before because he was worried and made sure I took a pocket knife with me, which came in very handy to cut my avocados! Good shout bro!

And yes, it will make him very happy and I give you permission to, from now on, call me Machete! Go on, do it!

Just begin

Now, I am not going to write an elaborate trail report detailing everything that happened every minute of the five days I spent out there.

I’m not gonna talk about specific training for it because, well I really didn’t train for this!

I’m not going to spew out lines of stats and gear and all that nerdy stuff, either.

No, my friends, by now, you must know that’s just not how I roll! Instead, I’d like to encourage you to just begin on your own trail, however technical, long, short, difficult, easy, far away or near it may be.

Go have your adventure, get lost and found in the wind, in the dirt of the trails, the steepness of the hills, the grains of sand of the dunes, the mud of the bogs, the grass of the fields, and the crystals of the rocks.

Go fast, slow, alone or with a friend. Make your rules and find your freedom. Prepare enough so you can be spontaneous. So, go!

Your heart is ready and waiting for you to just begin.