
The Algarve lies neatly curled up at the bottom of Portugal like a contented cat in a strip of sunlight.
It is fed by the sparkling Atlantic to the south and west, and sheltered and watered by three mountain ranges to the north. The result, in a word, is abundant.
Farmers can get three crops a season from the purple-red soil. Rice, sugar cane and carob are grown here in great quantity. The winters are mild and the summers can be hot, but the ocean breeze cools the air to a bearable temperature.
It is as close to perfection as you can find yourself.
I was there on assignment as Metro’s resident cartoonist last October, during peak shoulder season — allow me to explain why you should do the same this year.
Off-season paradise
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The smell of hot pine was still in the air, but although the sun shone, a cool breeze kept nighttime comfortable.
Instead of staying on the coast, we made for a hotel in the rugged inland, perched on a hill in what can only be described as a utopian community paradise.
Viceroy at Ombria is not so much a hotel, but a village-hotel fusion where you can rent a luxurious room, and even buy an apartment.

It is shaped like a village and, like a village, has a bell tower, main square, restaurants, and shops. Yet like a hotel, it has a reception, staff at all levels and doors that swing open with the swipe of a card. It has four bars and a wine house.
(I never discovered what a wine house was, but I think I’d like to live in one.)
Their mantra, ‘Respect, sustainability and elevated experience’ is on display with the hiking, spa, yoga and gastronomy, but dig a little deeper and you’ll find solar panels covering the car park that heat the swimming pools; pavements that drain rainwater through them; local shepherds and beekeepers at work.
The apartments are hugged by herb beds and pomegranate trees, heavy with fruit, that provide shade for the walkways.


We were here for a gastronomic tour of the region, visiting ancient vineyards, art galleries, sardine canning factories and restaurants that ranged from benches on a beach with cats to Michelin-star tasting menus, where we each had our own silent balletic waiter.
We got stuck in with Casa Velha. Here was the first, but not the last, time we heard the underlying motto of the Algarvios.
That is to eat seasonally, to eat sustainably, to be the guardians of the food supplied.
And, of course, to pair it all with the excellent local wines and spirits, few of which you’ll find in the UK.

Over nine courses, we were challenged with local crevettes and clams, salt bass, lamb sous vide, cold rice pudding with cinnamon and rich local cheeses with, of course, port.
When I asked the waiter if it was all locally produced, he laughed. ‘Of course, it’s the Algarve! This is where everything starts from.’
With this in mind, we were taken to a fascinating farm that has been run with rewilding and sustainability at its core.
Fact check: is there a 'best time to visit' anymore?
Until recently, the ‘best time to visit’ meant peak travel season: a nice balance of good weather and easy access to experiences, without too many crowds.
But Journalist Tarang Mohnot has written an excellent piece for the BBC about how climate change has changed the rules of trip planning.
She says unpredictable and sometimes dramatic weather can now strike at any time of year, leaving travellers with a lot of uncertainty.
That’s why we love the idea of visiting places like the Algarve in the off season. Room rates and airfares are cheaper, but you’re also forced to explore a destination differently than what you see in brochures.
Steely farmers
The entire valley of Quinta do Freixo farm, flanked by copper-dusted hills and carob trees, has been left to nature.
Insofar as possible, farmer Luis has bravely allowed it to progress naturally, letting the tough black pigs graze one area and the cork and carob grow unweeded.
This is all about soil; let the animals do the weeding and grazing.

The grasses cool the soil and catch the morning dew, allowing moisture to remain and the animals to do the fertilizing.
Then the soil will flourish and the microbes will boost it. It’s a method for the steeliest of farmers, because there is little predictability.
One of the biggest problems, Luis told us, was persuading the other farm workers not to continue with their ingrained monoculture mindset, and to leave nature to act as it has done for millions of years.
Rather than use pesticides, when a pest arrives, it isn’t long before a natural predator steps in and deals with it.
It was this very diversity that became the backbone of the ecosystem’s resilience. I was struck by the way Luis talked of the land as if it were a member of the family, to be nurtured and cared for and passed down through the generations intact rather than plundered for short profit.
This idea of generational care was also prevalent in Culatra, a stunning treeless sand island off the coast of the fishing town of Olhão.

Here, a successful attempt at a genuine separate utopia was underway. Oyster and clam beds surround the coast and are a source of income as well as a sustainable filter for the water.
Colourfully painted houses lined the single high street, which has a tiny supermarket, a bar, restaurant and bakery where we ate delicious jesuita, a local pastry, while a ginger cat with a crumpled ear stalked us for crumbs.
There are no cars allowed on the island and, as a result, the mood was otherworldly.
The island, in part, is a sustainability project. Fishermen go out to fish, but also to collect sea plastic, particularly nets.
These are ground, mixed with oyster shells and made into bricks. A large area of the surrounding seabed is set aside for seahorses.
Solar-powered boats supply the island and soon the whole town will be run only on power from the sun’s rays. The only way one can live there is by inheriting a house, so there is no scrabble for real estate.

The mayor shucked 40 oysters while answering our questions, and it was only when she’d finished that it turned out only two of us were keen oyster eaters. Still, 20 oysters each before lunch doesn’t seem excessive if it’s to save other people’s embarrassment, so we valiantly gorged ourselves.
In the unfussy but excellent local restaurant, we ate weaver fish fried in batter, enormous anchovies interspersed with clam and prawn dishes with endless bottles of cool Murralhas Vinho Verde, all while hopeful local cats shared our benches.
Simplicity is something the Algarvios have perfected.
A lasting impression
Back in Olhão, we wandered around the sprawling fish market where the sheer scale of fresh abundance was on display.
I bought the delicacy Muxama de Atum, a block of salt-dried tuna shaved onto a simple bed of peppery rocket. Oiled and vinegared, it is one of the finest dishes known to man. If you ever see it on a menu, push people out of the way to get to it.

The Algarve leaves an impression on you.
It is easy, in a notorious beachside holiday destination, to lie on the surface of a place, on a beach towel with an airport book and laze away a holiday.
But dig around in the sand underneath you and you’ll find a kind, diligent and proud people whose enthusiasm for careful guardianship of their natural resources and culture is utterly inspiring, and their generosity and bonhomie, infectious to the point of embarrassment. I will return.
The details
Deluxe double rooms at the Viceroy Ombria start from £276 per night, based on two people sharing, travelling from 18 October 2025 onwards.
During the summer months, multiple airlines including Ryanair, British Airways, easyJet and Wizz Air fly to Faro, in the Algarve, from across the UK.
That offering gets a little slimmer when you hit the off-season. In October, direct flights run from London, Belfast, Manchester and Liverpool, with return fares from £146.
For more information on activities and experiences, please go to Visit Algarve.
Guy Venables was a guest of Viceroy Ombria and Visit Algarve.