Oh take me back to Turimetta
To the sanctuary of sea and stone.
Let’s play together at Turimetta,
Unlock those secrets yet unknown.
Take me back to Turimetta
To marvel at the moon and stars.
Let’s return again to Turimetta
For a hot stone massage.
I miss our time at Turimetta
In sunshine, rain or stormy weather.
When troubles fade away
And the song of life fills our day.
As we play.
So take me back to Turimetta
To gaze at the rocks of ambiguity.
Let’s go together to Turimetta,
We’ll drift on down the magic river out to sea.
We forget the future at Turimetta,
Where imagination roams free.
The moment is ours to keep forever,
Remember that day at Turimetta?
Oh take me back to Turimetta
To that sanctuary of sea and stone.
Let’s bathe together at Turimetta
And feel the pure love between us show.
As we grow.
Up until recently, one of the best kept secrets in the Algarve was the labyrinthine network of cross country dirt trails, navigable only by expert local insiders, hardcore off roaders, and experienced hikers in search of that exclusive scenic hideaway, far far away from the well trodden tourist path.
Although relatively new on the Algarve adventure scene, Bulldog Buggies are quickly rising through the ranks of what are considered to be the most unique attractions in the entire south end of Portugal, granting access to anyone looking for an altogether different type of tour experience.
Can you imagine winding perilously up and down steep hill slopes and valley contours layered with a blanket of thick dust and loose scree, traversing rough terrain partially sculpted out of rocky (and wet) riverbeds, on foot, in the searing heat of the sun, with perhaps (if you are lucky) a vague idea of where you might be going?
After a week without a decent session, I was itching to hit the beach and bag a few waves. By Wednesday morning I’d had enough of waiting, I grabbed my board and camera bag and headed for my local break, figuring that if the surf was too big at least I would capture a few nice shots. On Tuesday evening the sea was flat, and it was hard to imagine that the forecast conditions of 8-10 foot swell with a 17 second period between waves could actually become a reality overnight.
Somewhere between the waning September evenings and receding dawns of October, the barometer drops, signalling the first real blast of winter swell…
Images by Oisin Joyce
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