Hikes And Histories: More Of Tarrafal
It’s a few minutes before 9am and our guide Seeto is already waiting in the square, chatting and joking with friends. He meets us with the warmest of smiles but is continually interrupted by greetings, handshakes and fist pumps – you get the distinct feeling that everybody knows everyone else in Tarrafal. Seeto introduces us to our companions on today’s expedition, Alejo and Gabriella, on holiday here from near Albacete in Spain.
Today’s hike is a downhill challenge, we will be starting high up in the mountains of Serra Malagueta and dropping way, way down to arrive at the natural lake in the bottom of the canyon some three hours later. First then, a ride to the top in a “Tarrafal taxi” – in other words, the back of a pick up truck, climbing steadily up the winding roads to the edge of the national park.
Even before we leave the road the views are magnificent, but as soon as we head off on to the trail we are spellbound by the scene unfolding before us, green hillsides sweeping down to the glinting green-tinged mirror which is the lake way below. Unlike Boa Vista water is plentiful here – remarkable that two islands so close to each other can be so totally different, desert sands on one and verdant valleys on the other.
Seeto points out, as guides often do, plants with medicinal benefits, including the “lingua-de-vaca” (cow’s tongue), with its rough, sandpaper-like leaves which are apparently a treatment for haemorrhoids. Ouch. We don’t really want to think about that one too much. The steep slopes, despite their acute gradient, are regularly dotted with maize, fruit trees and herbs as the mountain folk utilise any possible workable space to cultivate produce.
At times the trail is tricky underfoot with rolling rocks and unstable sandy earth on the steep decline and concentration needs to be intense. Fortunately of the five of us we have just one faller; unfortunately it’s Michaela, who slips to the ground and lands heavily on her rear end. Cue much bruising and an aching butt for the next few days.
Now and again we pass the incredibly remote houses of the mountain folk, or a group working amongst the maize or fruit trees. They are eager to talk with Seeto and equally eager to do their best to communicate with us: Seeto explains that when life is as isolated and remote as theirs, some different company is a welcome interruption to their day. We make a brief stop at one of the modest family dwellings part way down the mountain, this is a remarkably rustic, remote lifestyle with absolutely no frills yet with happiness in clear abundance, a life undoubtedly with challenges but maybe without some of the pressures of the modern world. No stress?
It’s a terrific hike which like a good book saves its best moments till last as we reach the foot of our descent and approach the lake. Shortly after passing a sow and her piglets sleeping beneath a tree, a Cape Verde kingfisher, the national symbol, poses perfectly for a photo shoot before flying away to display the full extent of its vibrant colouring. It’s a beautiful bird well worthy of its national symbol status.
The ride back to Tarrafal is even more amusing than the outward journey, with no less than fourteen of us crammed in to the back of the little pick up truck for the bumpy half-hour ride back to town. We bid our farewells to Alejo and Gabriella and give our grateful thanks to Seeto, then head back into town to reflect on an excellent hike.
Until very recent times Tarrafal was even more isolated than it is today: only in the late 1980s when the road through the mountains was constructed was the town properly connected with the rest of the island, let alone the rest of the world. Such extreme isolation made Tarrafal the ideal, if that’s the right word, location for an appalling concentration camp which was to become known as The Camp Of Slow Death.
Initially, this camp was a prison for political dissidents of Portuguese colonies in Africa, a place where those opposing colonisation were imprisoned and treated with brutal inhumanity. Sleep deprivation, torture and starvation were just some of the atrocities faced by the inmates, who were soon joined by some from the Portuguese mainland accused of opposing the oppressive Salazar regime, notably Socialists and those seeking to create trade unions.
Walking around its desolate empty spaces and reading the accounts of survivors, hearing the echoes of horror in its stark walls, is reminiscent of our visit to Auschwitz some years ago – except this time we are alone, no other visitors are here today. On one plaque, a survivor describes those emerging from “the frying pan”, the solitary confinement cell:
The Camp Of Slow Death sits a few kilometres out of town along the road to the Serra Malagueta; the joyful town of Tarrafal faces the Atlantic as if turning its back on this bleak memorial, commemorating the martyrs and heroes but otherwise consigning the place to history.
A bumpy drive off the same main road is the small village of Ribeira da Prata, home to a magnificent example of volcanic beach where the soft, jet black sand stretches a considerable distance along the shoreline. Black sand and white surf form such a spectacular pairing; our only previous sighting of such a good example was on La Palma in the Canary Islands: the one here on Santiago is not so accessible but is well worth seeking out.
And so we reach our last night in Tarrafal and our final meal in this excellent little town – octopus for one, wahoo for the other, with just a drop or two of the sumptuous red wine from a neighbouring island. Almost inevitably we bump into Alejo and Gabriella once more and indulge in another round of goodbyes.
Tarrafal is our kind of place. It’s been a great few days here and we leave with a real affection for this small town filled with friendly, joyful people. Its relative isolation brings a peace and calmness to a town which goes unassumingly about its business – welcoming its visitors with open arms yet keeping the tourist influence decidedly low key.
Our time here has been brilliant. No stress.
18 Comments
Suzanne@PictureRetirement
This looks like a great place to get lost. How nice that it hasn’t been spoiled by tourists.
Phil & Michaela
It was indeed a lovely little town, really our kind of place. Probably just a bit too difficult to get to for it to change too much. Hope so, anyway.
Helen Devries
A lovely place to visit. but if I were living there, were young and with half a chance I would escape to a more vigorous environment and come back to retire to enjoy the peace.
Phil & Michaela
Cape Verde generally is suffering depopulation in precisely that way – a somewhat ironic consequence, we’re told, of improvements to the education system over last 20 years or so. And it is indeed ironic, isn’t it – improve the prospects of the younger generation and then consequently suffer a talent exodus.
Toonsarah
I’m sorry to hear about Michaela’s fall, and really sympathise, as it’s exactly the sort of thing I would do! It’s fortunate though that the worst of it was a sore bottom, nothing more serious. Talking of serious, that death camp seems to have had the same impact on you as it did on us. I knew nothing of that period of Portuguese history and found the whole place disturbing and horrifying.
Phil & Michaela
Yes it absolutely was. As we said, it reminded us of our visit to Auschwitz a few years ago, yet the fact it was devoid of any other visitors somehow made it even more desolate, if not quite as horrific.
Travels Through My Lens
I hope Michaela has made a full recovery from her fall; sorry to hear about that. The scenery is absolutely stunning. The mama pig though, she’s so thin; and the death camps; how horrific. It’s hard to imagine such a place surrounded by beauty. Thanks for sharing.
Christie
Such a huge difference between Praia and Boa Vista! The scenery is fantastic in the mountains of Serra Malagueta, I love the top views.
Hope Michaela is feeling better!
Phil & Michaela
Thank you, it didn’t last too long. Tarrafal was a good place with a lot to offer.
leightontravels
It looks like your latest adventures are well up there with some of the best in recent times. Pass on my best wishes to Michaela, so glad that the injury wasn’t more serious. The nature is exceptional, though I’m not sure I’d like to do this kind of ‘remote’ work. Like others I find the Portuguese history both shocking and surprising. Is it just me, or is this history firmly under the radar? Love all the animal shots, Mr/Ms Kingfisher is an absolute corker.
Phil & Michaela
Indeed, we don’t hear much about Portuguese brutality, do we. In this era of anti-British Empire mentality, it’s perhaps wise to remember that we may have exploitative and arrogant but to the best of my knowledge we were rarely if ever brutal.
Lookoom
Despite its very remote location, Tarrafal has its place in history, the rest of the world isn’t so far away after all. But I agree with you, there’s a good balance between authentic local life and the discreet presence of tourists.
Monkey's Tale
The kingfisher is unique in its colouring, what a pretty bird. Tarrafal looks like the perfect place with a relaxing vibe and beautiful nature, but of course these places always seem to come with an awful history. Maggie
wetanddustyroads
Stunning views! You’re right, the people who live up in the mountains are truly isolated (and not afraid of hard work too it seems). Lovely photo of the kingfisher. It’s hard to believe that there is a concentration camp in such a beautiful place as Tarrafal.
Phil & Michaela
Part of Portugal’s less palatable history…but we had to go see it while we were there.
WanderingCanadians
Hiking is such a great way to enjoy the scenery. Looks like you had nice weather to soak in the views. Sorry to hear that Michaela fell though.
alison
That hike looks far too dangerous and hilly for me! I would be the fallen one too. The photos are glorious and really show the way of life there. There always seems to be a more horrific prison/death camp to be discovered. What awful torture those men suffered. A wonderful gem of an island you’ve now put in the map.
Phil & Michaela
We really liked Tarrafal, Ali, just a nice blend of not touristy but enough to do.