A hot hike in the walled fortress of the Sagres Point sock.
Strabo reports (Book 3.1.4) as follows:
The region adjacent to this cape they call in the Latin tongue Cuneum, which signifies a wedge. The promontory which projects into the sea, Artemidorus (who states that he has himself been at the place) compares to a ship; three little islands, each having a small harbour, contribute to give it this form; the former island resembling the beak of the ship, and the two latter the beams on each side of the ship’s bows … there is no temple of Hercules shown there, as Ephorus falsely states, nor yet any altar nor to any other divinity; but in many parts there are three or four stones placed together, which are turned by all travellers who arrive there, in accordance with a certain local custom, and are changed in position by such as turn them incorrectly. It is not lawful to offer sacrifice there, nor yet to approach the place during the night, for it is said that then the gods take up their abode at the place. Those who go thither to view it stay at a neighbouring village overnight, and proceed to the place on the morrow, carrying water with them, as there is none to be procured there.
Listen to the coven wail of the sea.
A pretty parched snail.
Some poetry by the pseudonymous Fernando Pessoa, a very interesting character:
Ah, those invasive ice-flowers… (vygies from South Africa, initially planted to stabilize the soil.)
A territorial beetle on every flower, sometimes a fly: only allowed if it’s colour-ordinated!
Effigies of Saints Vincent and ‘Francis.
I heard birds, but only saw rock pigeons fluttering in the cliff breezes. Their roosts must be just below the clay-lipped edge. A few fishermen were perched on the precarious overhangs; some fish leaping far below.
I have not seen the menhirs of the region yet.