It was late afternoon when we set off from the river beside the Vila Galé Náutico Hotel in Armação de Pêra. The light was already falling into that golden hue that makes the limestone glow from within, and the path drew us gently into the scrubland, where the air smelled of pine and salt. Early on, we crossed a Roman bridge — no signs, no explanations — just ancient stones speaking with the authority of time. The walk through Vale do Olival was meant to last four hours, but it offered much more: a change of pace, a reconnection with the land and its stories. Along the way, we detoured to the village of Porches, where traditional chimneys proudly sketch the sky, and the old quarter invites slow steps between whitewashed façades and living memories. Here, the Algarve doesn’t show itself — it reveals itself, through those who inhabit and care for it.