There is a specific quality of light on the Portuguese Riviera that I’ve spent years trying to describe without sounding like I’m writing a postcard. It’s not just the golden glow that hits the cliffs at 5 p.m.; it’s something sharper, older. It’s the kind of light that makes the granite outcrops of the Sintra-Cascais Natural Park look like they’ve just been polished by a giant cosmic cloth.
I remember my first attempt to traverse this coastline. I was younger, significantly less wise, and operating under the delusion that "coastal walk" meant "leisurely stroll." I packed a paperback, a flimsy sandal, and enough arrogance to fill a wheelbarrow. I learned very quickly—somewhere between the crumbling shale of Praia da Ursa and the vertical ascent of the Cabo da Roca—that this coastline demands respect. It demands good shoes.
This guide is the one I wish I’d had then. It’s for 2026, yes, but the cliffs don’t change much year to year. The crowds might shift, a cafe might change its owner, but the wild heart of the Lisbon Coast remains stubbornly, beautifully itself. We are going to walk the line between the mist-shrouded palaces of Sintra and the salty, vibrant buzz of Cascais. We are going to find the beaches where the tourists aren’t, and we are going to hike the edges of the continent.
Let’s lace up.
Most people go to Sintra for the Pena Palace. They go for the Disney-esque colors, the conical turrets, and the overwhelming crowds that clog the narrow streets of the historic center. I go to Sintra to escape them.
If you are starting your journey here in 2026, I recommend doing what the locals do: wake up at dawn. Watch the sun burn the mist out of the valley, visit the Moorish Castle while the stones are still cool, and then, around 10 a.m., head for the woods. Specifically, the woods leading down toward the sea.
The trail I want you to take isn’t the paved tourist path. It’s the old smugglers' route. You want to find the trailhead near the Quinta da Regaleira, not the main entrance, but the smaller gate near the street called Rua Barbosa du Bocage. You’re looking for a path that drops steeply into the Parque da Liberdade.
The air changes instantly here. You leave the scent of waffle cones and expensive perfume and enter the damp, earthy smell of laurel and fern. The humidity rises. The sounds of the city fade, replaced by the rustling of the Serra de Sintra wind.
As you descend, the canopy opens up to reveal glimpses of the Atlantic, a steely grey promise in the distance. This walk is about a 90-minute commitment to get down to the water, but it’s a vertical drop. Your knees will complain. Your calves will burn. But then, you break through the tree line, and the world opens up.
You’ve arrived. This isn’t a beach for sunbathing in a bikini; it’s a beach for feeling small. Framed by massive, honey-colored cliffs and jagged rock formations, Praia da Adraga feels prehistoric. The waves here are aggressive, churning up a froth that sounds like a boiling kettle.
There is a restaurant right on the sand, O Pescador, that has been there forever. If you’ve hiked down from Sintra, you have earned a bowl of Arroz de Marisco. The rice is orange from the tomato and paprika base, studded with clams, crab, and prawns that taste of the cold Atlantic. The broth is thick, almost a stew, and it scalds the tongue in the best way possible. Sit by the window, watch the surf crash against the rocks, and feel the grit of sand between your teeth. It’s perfect.
From Adraga, you have a choice. You can hike the cliff tops toward Guincho, which is spectacular but grueling, or you can hop the 60-minute bus (the 1624 line, which runs roughly every hour, though check the Carris Metropolitana app for the 2026 schedule as they love to shuffle things) to the village of Colares. From there, we begin the true coastal trek.
This section of the trail follows parts of the old Estrada Real (Royal Road). It’s a path that connects the fountains and estates of the old nobility, but today it’s a ribbon of dirt and stone hugging the cliff edge.
The destination is Praia da Ursa. I must issue a warning here. Ursa is often cited as the most beautiful beach in Portugal, and unfortunately, Instagram knows this. The path to get there is... treacherous. It is steep. It is loose gravel. In 2026, please do not attempt this in flip-flops. I have seen too many people sliding down that hill on their backsides.
The name means "Bear Beach," named for the rock formations that look like bears (or, depending on your imagination and the angle of the sun, something else entirely). The beach is a narrow strip of pale sand at the base of sheer cliffs that rise hundreds of feet vertically. The water here is a turquoise so vivid it looks fake.
I once spent an afternoon here watching a pod of dolphins just beyond the break. The tide was low, and the rock pools were teeming with tiny crabs. It’s a place where silence feels heavy. There are no facilities. No toilets, no vendors. You bring everything in, you take everything out. If you are lucky enough to be there at low tide with no one else around, strip down to your swimsuit and wade into the freezing water. It’s a baptism.
Leaving Ursa requires climbing back out (there is a slightly easier, longer path if you walk back toward the lighthouse and take the coastal trail, bypassing the steepest climb). Once you are back on top, the landscape changes again. The vegetation becomes sparse, stunted by the wind. You are entering the domain of Praia do Guincho.
Guincho is famous. It’s where they filmed the James Bond movie On Her Majesty's Secret Service. It’s huge, exposed, and constantly battered by wind. In the summer of 2026, it will be packed with kitesurfers. The kites look like giant, colorful birds dancing against the blue sky.
The trail here is a boardwalk in sections, protecting the dunes. It’s a sensory assault. The wind whips your hair into your eyes. The salt spray coats your lips. The roar of the waves is constant. It’s exhilarating and exhausting.
If you need a break, head to Fortaleza do Guincho. It’s a 17th-century fortress turned into an event space/restaurant. Even if you don’t eat there, the view from the ramparts is the best place to dry off and map the final leg of the journey to Cascais.
The trail from Guincho to Cascais is deceptive. On the map, it looks like a straight line. On the ground, it winds through residential areas, pine forests, and over rocky headlands.
The highlight of this stretch isn’t actually a beach, but a hidden gem tucked away just off the trail: The Condes de Castro Guimarães Museum in Cascais. But wait, we are looking for hidden things, right?
Well, before you hit the bustling streets of Cascais, look for the path that skirts Parque da Gandarinha. This area is quieter. But let’s pivot to a specific spot that feels like a secret even to locals: Praia da Rainha (The Queen’s Beach).
Located right on the edge of Cascais town, tucked between the headland of the Citadel and the main promenade, this beach is tiny. It was originally the private beach of Queen Amelia, the last Queen of Portugal. She had good taste.
Because it’s slightly protected by the breakwater of the citadel, the water is often calmer here. It’s a great place to actually swim. The sand is soft. The backdrop is the elegant, yellow-washed buildings of Cascais. It feels civilized yet wild.
You’ve walked. You’ve sweated. You’ve navigated loose rocks and sandy paths. You deserve a treat.
Cascais in 2026 is still a place of contradictions. It has the glitz of the wealthy yachting crowd, but it also retains the soul of a fishing village if you know where to look. Skip the main high street, Avenida Valbom, for a moment. Head to the old quarter.
You must visit Pastelaria Gregório. It’s a small, unassuming pastry shop. There is always a line. It moves fast. You are going to order the Queijada de Cascais. It’s a local specialty—a small tart made of cheese, sugar, eggs, and cinnamon. It’s sweet, tangy, and dense. It’s the taste of this town.
While you are eating your tart, walk toward the Citadel (Cidadela de Cascais). This is a massive fortress that dates back to the 15th century, expanded over the centuries to protect Lisbon from sea attacks. It’s now a cultural hub with art galleries, a bookshop, and a hotel.
The history here is palpable. You can feel the presence of the Portuguese royal family who turned Cascais into their summer resort in the late 19th century. King Luis I was the one who really put it on the map, bringing the railway from Lisbon and building the Casino Estoril (which inspired Ian Fleming’s Casino Royale).
Walking through the Citadel’s gates, you are walking through layers of defense. The thick walls, the cannons pointing out to sea, the cobbled courtyards—it’s a stark contrast to the soft luxury of the beaches just a few meters away. It grounds the experience. It reminds you that this paradise was fought for.
So, how do you actually execute this trip in the coming year? Here is the reality check.
If you have extra time, or if the weather turns (which it does), here are two final spots to tuck into your pocket:
As I write this, I can taste the salt on my lips and feel the ache in my calves from that last climb out of Ursa. This walk isn't just exercise. It’s a narrative. It’s a journey from the mystical, forested interior of Portugal to the raw, beating heart of the Atlantic.
In 2026, the world will be crowded. Everyone will be chasing the "next big thing." But here, on the cliffs between Sintra and Cascais, the big thing is actually very old. It’s the rock, the water, the wind, and the trail. It’s the feeling of arriving in Cascais at sunset, covered in dust and salt, watching the lights of the Citadel flicker on, knowing you walked the edge of the continent.
Pack your boots. Leave the sandals at home. The coast is waiting.