Porto Santo · A Week in Light and Memory
A golden island, a golden ritual.
This short photo diary gathers moments from seven days spent between family, light, routine, and discovery — all captured with love, lenses, and a bit of clumsiness along the way. Each day carried its own rhythm, moods, and small stories worth telling. Here’s how it went.
Day 1 · First Light
Porto Santo, the golden island, right here next door.
We took some time during the holidays to visit family, and of course, I never miss the chance to photograph the island. There’s something comforting about the familiar angles, the repeating routines — snapshots, clichés, family, memories. Nothing new, yet everything meaningful.
A day when the light wasn’t particularly inspiring — dull, almost shy — but still, there’s always something worth capturing. What matters most are the little stories frozen in each image. They are fragments of time, of affection, of shared silences and spontaneous laughter. I always try to capture that, even if the scenery is familiar, because each visit has its own soul.
Day 2 · Sun, Smiles & Moonlight
Porto Santo wouldn’t truly be Porto Santo without treating us to its many moods of weather.
Just like the weather, people too have their good and bad awakenings. But nothing that a bit of sunshine and a dip in the sea can’t improve — in the end, it all leads to happy endings. And just like the weather, the island’s man reflects this in his photographs.
It was the second day, captured through the eyes of a Zeiss 24mm. And as if saving the best for last, the day ended not only with the smile of a child but also with the golden glow of the setting sun. Moments like these remind us why we return, again and again — chasing light, memories, and warmth.
Later, the night stroll brought us through the village center, the pier, the children's park, and the ever-classic “Lambeca.” I used the full moon to experiment with black and white — high contrast and an Ilford-inspired mood — trying to turn a simple walk into something more atmospheric. Not easy, but worth the challenge.
Day 3 · Grey Light, Faded Mood
It started off grey and uninspiring. We visited Quinta das Palmeiras — a great stop, especially with kids, when the beach isn’t an option.
I had the Sony 35mm F1.8, but the connection wasn’t there. Nearly 200 shots later, only a few stood out. Just some scattered, spontaneous moments.
Even the beach in the afternoon disappointed — rain drove us back.
Later, for dinner, I switched to the Zeiss 24mm for indoor shooting. Good call. Still, the tone of the day stuck with me.
Editing? A struggle. Choosing the photos? Even harder.
Portra Faded ended up saving the day visually — adding a calm finish to a day of frustration.
Day 4 · Slow and Bright
A good day, even with few photos.
A child-paced bike ride full of little hiccups and spontaneous adventures. The beach claimed most of our attention — sandcastles, dives, and chaos left the camera mostly untouched.
At the end of the day, we visited Portela Viewpoint and the famous windmills. Night shots were handheld — moody and grainy, but honest.
We ended by waving at the Lobo Marinho as it sailed into the night — a small goodbye under a shy moon.
Day 5 · Familiar Frames
We explored the island’s north: Fonte da Areia, Camacha, and Pico do Castelo viewpoint.
The landscapes are well-known, so I focused on simple family moments — smiles, gestures, little things that matter more than perfection.
Another beach afternoon wrapped it all up: golden sun, warm water, and playful sand.
Just another beautiful day in Porto Santo — ordinary, and because of that, unforgettable.
Day 6 · Rituals and Loose Notes
It’s the second-to-last day, and the climb to Pico Castelo was calling. A tradition by now — partly childhood nostalgia, partly stubborn habit.
The northern trail was the easiest for our little one, so we packed light: just a camera, a snack, and the versatile Tamron 17-70mm.
The climb went smoothly, but the top showed signs of neglect — vandalism, unsafe paths, an uncared-for garden. We deserve better.
Still, the views on the descent were rewarding: Ilhéu da Cal to Ilhéu de Ferro in one frame.
And then came the evening.
"Three years have gone by. Three years in which you’ve grown — and in all of them, we’ve been here, together, watching the sunset. In this very spot."
2023 – Shot with a Samsung S20 FE.
2024 – Sony A6400 with the Sigma 10-20mm f/2.8.
2025 – Sony A6400 with the Tamron 17-70mm f/2.8.
A small tradition in the making — the kind that grows roots without you noticing.
Day 7 · Sun, Wind & Goodbye
The final sunset was magical — back at Pico do Castelo, this time on the northern path.
We danced, played music, and captured the last light… and in the middle of it all, I forgot to change the aperture from f/11. Rookie mistake, chasing a sun star. Still, what a moment it was.
The next day, we went to Calheta for one last beach morning. The sun was there, but the wind was stronger. Rough sea, restless waves — not ideal for the little one. Not the farewell we wished for, but honest in its own way.
Lunch, packing, last-minute shopping, and a ferry back home.
Tired but grateful — camera quiet, mind full.
Conclusion
This concludes this short series of seven posts, capturing one week on the island — moments lived, mistakes made, rituals repeated, and light forever chased.
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