by Kate Dernocoeur, guest blogger
We went to Nazaré at the suggestion of my longtime friend and master trip organizer, Linda. Our group of six had just completed our main objective (see Generally Write, May 19) and rode the bus two hours north of Lisbon to Nazaré for a couple of days of relaxation before leaving this delightful nation. I was wowed.
We wandered the streets and got the lay of the land. We visited the top of the bluff with its impressive square and cathedral, still draped with Easter flowers. Then we made our way to the Big-Wave Surf Museum in the 16th century Forte de São Miguel Arcanjo, the old Navy lighthouse on the cliffside point that separates the town of Nazaré on the South Beach from the wilder North Beach. The wind was enough to make you wonder if you’d be blown off the edge—and this was the off-season!
Later, I walked alone along the South Beach. Even in (very) mild conditions, I was impressed by the relentless cadence of the Atlantic swells arriving, arriving, arriving. From my journal: “I took off my shoes and went down to the water, irresistibly drawn by its insistent pounding and thunder and spray. It was marvelous… My feet were treated to barefoot walking in kind sand.” I was entranced. When some surf froth covered my foot, I was happy to be tickled by the ocean. Then a small wave grabbed me by one ankle and pulled. I could sense the immense power of the water, and that was plenty enough for me! “The raw power of it intimidates me but I also could not look away. So majestic, and aloof,” I wrote.
Nazaré gained international attention after Garrett McNamara was lured there in 2010 by a local man who knew the big-wave surfer would be unable to resist it. Since then, McNamara and his team, including his wife, Nicole, have been on a mission to show the world the truth about Nazaré: nowhere else is quite like it. One quote put it succinctly: “Mountaineers have Everest. Surfers have Nazaré.”