In the Absolute Present: An Evening in Cabo Espichel
There’s something captivating about visiting a savage and barren foreland like Cabo Espichel on a Sunday afternoon. It is uninhabited, only a few visitors meandering around, the wind gently blowing and the possibility of noticing only the imposing high cliffs converging with drapes of beach and the deep blue sea. Located along the southwest coast of Portugal in the Setúbal Peninsula, it’s only a 90 minute drive away from Lisbon.
Stamped by a capricious cape graced by the Atlantic, a lighthouse, a tiny chapel on a plain and a church, Cabo Espichel is a timeless and magnetic place. In the remote town a few pale houses with orange rooftops are scattered along the way, but you don’t see people, you don’t hear noises nor see crowds of tourists, just the imposing dip Cretaceous rocks that take you into an eerie journey.
Strolling along the 18th-century Santuário de Nossa Senhora do Cabo you feel puzzled by the paradox of time; confined to the instant but carrying a conspicuous sense of the past. It’s deserted and dusty. Constructed under the direction of King Dom Pedro II in 1701, what mostly stands are the two symmetrical and desolate pilgrims' lodge that lead to the extraordinary towering cliffs.
If you’re lucky enough to sit next to the small Chapel of Ermida da Memoria, in the silent company of the spirits of the pilgrims and the breathtaking view, you’ll understand why Cabo Espichel has always despised superstition, visions and magic.
Along the soaring rock walls you can see the grand 1790 lighthouse said to be one of Lisbon’s most important coastline lighthouses. Enormous dinosaur footprints race up the precipice, once believed to be the footsteps of Virgin Mary and her magical she-mule. The landscape is rough and attractive. It reveals the feeling that 'something is always far away' –the ultramarine sky, the voices, the whispers and the illusory moments seized by time continuity.