SAGRES . . . PORTUGAL . . .

After a good night sleep in the hotel Mary Jane had an idea to film a funny little clip before handed back the keys for our immaculate room. We kept heading south, along the way we spotted one of the smallest ladies I have ever seen in my life, she was hearding a great number of sheep through the prickerly, fistle-filled farmland somwhere on the outskirts of Sagres. We also came by a destroyed caravan wedged in the woods and had to keep an eye on our back as once again another old angry dog was at our tails.
As we approached Sagres the clouds vanished and made way to a big blue sky and warm spring sunshine sprayed the white sand beaches.We spent hours on the beach rock climbing the surrounding walls and swimming. When the sun started to fade into the deep Atlantic ocean we set out in search of a camping spot. The day before we set off I pulled the old map pout and scoured the coastline for possible beaches to camp at. We ended up finding one of the most incredible beachside camp spots ever! the forrest worked its way right down to the beach, we were well hidden from the rode and there was ample amounts of fire wood. There was also 4 Irish traveller families camping in the area and 2 of their children kept us entertained as they ran around our fire and filled it with wood laughing at the embers that bursted up into the starlit sky.