I masqueraded as a member of the elite on Portugal’s most stylish coast
As I walked up the wobbly wooden steps I felt like a child entering Wembley Stadium for the first time. Only the pitch that emerged before me was an endless white-sand beach. The terraces were tumbling sand dunes. And the players were families, splashing around in the cool Atlantic.
The Tróia Peninsula, 25 miles south of Lisbon, is an open secret among the Portuguese. They come here for the silky hourglass sands and the surf, but also because there’s so much beach to go around. Stretching 40 miles from Tróia to Sines, this is (by this writer’s calculations) the longest uninterrupted stretch of sand in Europe, although it doesn’t get the accolade of “longest beach” as it is technically multiple separate praias stitched together. A beach with no name, if you will.
But behind those knotgrass dunes, and buffered from the crash of the waves, a different kind of existence plays out. The Tróia Peninsula is nicknamed “the Hamptons of Portugal” for its luxurious villas and gated resorts. Jose Mourinho owns a home in the area. George Clooney and Sharon Stone are among the investors to have bought plots along the coast.
Even Madonna has been seen riding horses along the beach, for heaven’s sake. If I wasn’t wearing sandals (it’s all about the barefoot luxury in these parts) I could keep dropping the names.
Slowly, the gates are opening up to ordinary tourists. Spain’s richest woman, the fashion heiress Sandra Ortega Mera, recently unveiled plans for a resort – Na Praia, set for completion in 2026 – which will include a deluxe 45-room hotel along with 77 homes. Other real-estate developers have plans in the pipeline, and the British luxury villa operator Oliver’s Travels is expanding on the peninsula. This summer it unveiled a brand new property, its ninth in the area. I was the first to visit, getting a rare glimpse into one of Europe’s most exclusive coastal communities.
A puzzle of architectural wonders
The Soltroia estate is a gently contoured puzzle of architectural wonders, ranging from pink colonial-style mansions to quadrangular contraptions, filled with the aroma of tall pines that must save residents a fortune on reed diffusers. Not that money is an object. Entering our accommodation for the first time felt like stepping into a design magazine: spacious, geometric, with psychedelic works of art filling the walls. It’s hard to explore without running your hand along surfaces, à la Kevin McCloud, and talking sincerely about the “lines”.
“You can take whatever you want to the beach,” said Telmo, the owner of Tróia Beach villa, showing me his assortment of seaside paraphernalia. “And don’t worry about bringing it back every day. People just set it up and leave it on the beach for the summer.” I told him that trust, towels and territory don’t come naturally to the British on our holidays, but I took his word for it.
In the kitchen, chef André Pola was doing something very complicated with a spider crab on the granite surfaces, preparing a Michelin-grade tasting menu for the evening, to be complemented by Portuguese wines selected by a local sommelier.
As we settled in, I decided that this would be quite suitable for visiting friends of the Mourinhos or the Clooneys. There is a wine cellar, a snooker room, a gym, a cinema room and a spa complete with jacuzzi and sauna (a local masseuse can be booked on request). Yet, filled to capacity, the place actually works out at ￡208 per person per night. Which, considering you’re effectively getting your own private five-star hotel, feels like a steal.
We naturally gravitated by the poolside and barbecue area during our short stint masquerading as members of the elite. But I was keen to get out and explore. There seems to be a quiet agreement among the global cognoscenti to carve out an existence along this stretch of coast. Why here?
Bougie beach clubs and Roman ruins
On the first morning I left my friends simmering in the outdoor jacuzzi and drove up to the town of Tróia on the northern tip of the peninsula. It’s pretty soulless, with a casino and boxy modern apartment blocks casting shadows over the marina. If you’re anything like me, you’ll look beyond the bobbing boats to the terracotta roofs of Setubal, across the mouth of the River Sado, and wish that you were there instead. Fortunately, this is something easily achieved, with a 20-minute ferry operating throughout the day.
But I stayed on dry land to unearth Troia’s past. Accessed via a long dirt track, the Roman Ruins of Troia (€6 entry) were once an important complex for the production of salted and pickled fish. The site grew into an urban centre between the 1st and 6th centuries and today you can still see the remains of its thermal baths, mausoleum and homes overlooking the estuary. I breathed deep and could taste the salt in the air – cue, if there ever was one, for a drink.
Luckily enough, something this stretch of coast does very well is an understatedly cool beach-front bar. The Comporta Café, Restaurante e Beach Club serves up sublime seafood (try the octopus) in a breezy setting with rattan furniture and a jungle of potted plants, all to the rhythms of ambient jazz. Neighbouring Ilha do Arroz serves the local speciality of black rice and a mean lobster spaghetti, with a little ice cream shack in between the two acting as a magnet for thoroughly bronzed kids.
A soulful, low-rise town
One evening we took a short taxi into Comporta town. The sun was negroni red, turning the world a thick peach while birds migrated to their nests for the evening – there are more than 200 breeds in the area, including flamingoes. Our driver, José, with slicked-back hair and an arm out the window, gave his take on the tourism development in the area.
“If they stop here, it’s OK. But we don’t need more construction,” he said, as we zoomed past an elephant’s graveyard of a building site that seemed to last for miles. “If it continues up the coast we’ll blow up what we have here.”
Hopefully it shouldn’t come to that – the Troia Peninsula is part of a nature reserve with strict planning laws, and the dunes are protected, meaning there’s a legal limit to just how “Algarve” things can get here.
Comporta is a soulful, low-rise town with a distinctive blue-and-white architectural palette. There’s a pleasingly sleepy atmosphere to the place, with noble white storks keeping watch in their scribbly rooftop nests. There are some non-negotiables while you’re here, like picking up chutneys and cheeses in the “Little Harrods” mini-market Mercearia Gomes (which now has an adjoining florist, bakery and restaurant), and browsing for hand-made pottery at The Life Juice. Through a secret door in that shop you’ll find the self-consciously cool restaurant, Mesa, with long hardwood benches and a market-focused menu (try the Atlantic tuna crudo).
After dinner we sat with a beer at Be Bar, on the main square, where a DJ pitched a chilled playlist that had the elderly couple next to us tapping their toes. I reflected on the Hamptons comparison, but decided it’s not stuffy or preppy enough for that. I’ve also seen references to St Tropez, Tarifa and San Ignacio in Uruguay. And sure, I can see the links. Money. Surf. Boho chic (respectively).
But there’s a distinct spirit to this corner of Portugal that transcends the need for comparisons. Portugal’s wild west is somewhere that urges you to reduce your walking speed by half, to submit to long lunches overlooking an eternal beach, to brave a bracing swim with silhouetted mountains slipping into the Atlantic in the middle distance. You’ll want to mark your territory on the beach forever, not just for a week or two.
Essentials
Stay here
Greg Dickinson was a guest of Oliver’s Travels and Troia Beach villa, which sleeps up to 12 people and also has staff quarters with a double room. Rates start from ￡2,500 per night, with a private-dining experience available on request. You also have options in Comporta, like the design-led Quinta da Comporta (from ￡263 per night) or the boutique hotel Sublime Comporta (from ￡507 per night).
How to get there
To make the most of the area you’ll want to hire a car. From Lisbon Airport, it’s around 1hr 30m to the Troia Peninsula, taking the Vasco da Gama Bridge, or a 45m drive down to Setúbal and a 20-minute car ferry across the mouth of the River Sado. Greg Dickinson flew with easyJet, which operates flights from Bristol, Birmingham, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Gatwick, Luton and Manchester, starting from ￡14.99 one-way.
When to visit
Given the relative scarcity of hotels in the area there’s a limit to how crowded things can get, although some of the beaches and restaurants do get busy on sunny weekends. The Troia Peninsula makes for a lovely shoulder-season escape, with highs of 24C in October, 18C in November, 20C in April and 24C in May.
