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Burgau · Algarve
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The village

Burgau

The village takes its name from the burgau, a small sea snail found on the rocks of this beach. A shell named the village. A shell sits over our door.

Sixteenth century
Burgau began as a tuna armação, a netting station on the cove.
Dom João IV
A fort was raised on the site of an older watchtower above the beach.
1912
The Casa Grande palacete has stood above the lanes since 1912.
Today
Fishermen still work the limestone slipway, and the white and blue houses have earned the village a nickname: the Portuguese Santorini.
The setting

The cove is ten minutes down the hill on foot. Praia da Luz is five minutes by car, Lagos ten, Sagres forty. Faro is an hour away, Lisbon a little over two. Burgau sits at the first door of the Costa Vicentina, the wild protected coast that runs north.

Days here

The coast, properly

Photography to come · By boat

By boat
Out on the water
From the cove to the sea grottoes of Ponta da Piedade, and the caves at Benagil at first light.

Photography to come · By car

By car
The end of Europe
Sunset at Cabo de São Vicente, where the land stops and the Atlantic begins.

Photography to come · On foot

On foot
The fishermen's trail
The Rota Vicentina along the wild west coast: cliffs, surf, wildflowers in spring.

Photography to come · Food

Food
Market morning
Figs, almonds and salt cod in the Lagos market, then the morning catch off the Burgau boats.

Photography to come · By car

By car
Into the mountains
The Serra de Monchique: cork oaks, mountain honey, and the long view from Fóia.

Photography to come · On foot

On foot
The village, slowly
Ten minutes down to the cove, the Beach Bar on the sand, and live music in the village as the sun goes.
The house ritual

The Blue Hour

Dusk at the honesty bar. Every evening, as the light turns, the ledger comes out and the village lights come on below.

The rest of the programme is being written around it: fado on the terrace, long tables in the garden, the harvest. Letters from the coast will carry the dates.

Letters from the coast