The epilogue: Fátima to Tomar

Right up to yesterday, we were undecided whether to add an extra day’s walking to an already-long pilgrimage. We’d arrived in Fátima having hiked over 364-kilometres in 13 days on the Caminho do Norte (a route which follows the Rota Carmelita from Coimbra). Surely nobody would blame us if we hopped onto a bus and simply lazed around Tomar on the final day of our holiday?

There was one problem: Harri and I like to finish what we set out to do and hiking the single-day 31-kilometre Rota Tomar from Fátima was always on the cards … until I started longing for my first full caminho to end. After much debating – and a good night’s sleep (extremely comfortable bed) – we agreed to stick to our original plan. From Tomar, we would then catch a regional train to Lisbon before changing trains to head south to the Algarve.

After devouring a delicious and varied breakfast at the Santa Isabel Hotel, we checked out 9.10am. Even at this early hour – and in thick fog – there were tour groups around and numerous people shuffling along the white line on their knees. We hadn’t experienced Fátima at its busiest, however the vastness of the car park and the central square suggests this is a place that gets seriously packed during the main religious holidays.

We walked in and out of a mini mercado (too expensive by far!), preferring to take our chances and buy food on route. It was becoming clear why we’d heard no ‘bom caminho’ greetings on our way into town yesterday – those locals who are not financially benefiting from this first-rate commercial enterprise and those lives are disrupted daily must be thoroughly sick of pilgrims.

The wind had dropped and, despite the fog, it was much warmer than yesterday. As we trekked out of town, I felt a mixture of wonderment and contempt for Fátima, especially for the forces that, over a century, had transformed three local children’s simple beliefs into a vast money-making pageant.

The Rota Carmelita passes through Aljustrel, the village where the three little shepherds – Lucia, Jacinta and Francisco – were living in 1917. Knowing we’d have an opportunity to visit the village today, Harri had opted for a more direct route into Fátima yesterday. If we’d been expecting a typical drystone-walled lane, then we were in for a surprise. The short route between Fátima and Aljustrel is as carefully curated as everything else in this city, with a beautifully cobbled path lined with olive trees and a shrine every few hundred metres. Presumably, the idea is that you stop and contemplate at each shrine. Behind us, three women were chanting.

Aljustrel was just as touristy as Fátima, but on a much smaller scale. When a stallholder tried to sell me something, I pointed at my rucksack. Quick as a flash, she pulled out a tea towel. Believe me, these are seasoned salespeople. Harri explained how even in medieval days weary travellers would be targeted by merchants selling tacky momentos. Then, gullible pilgrims handed over their coins for a piece of wood purportedly originating from some cross or the other, or old bones or tooth fragments the sellers claimed were relics of saints and martyrs. I think I’d prefer a tea towel – or, if I didn’t have to carry it, perhaps one of the cute stuffed lambs that adorned the stalls.

If you have the time – and inclination – you can pay to enter the tiny, whitewashed cottages where the children lived (Lucia was the cousin and so lived in a different property) – we had neither.

After Aljustrel, we joined a two-lane cycle path (the best kind) with great distant views. Ourém medieval village looked surprisingly near and remained in close(ish) proximity for several kilometres. The fog was gradually evaporating and, after yesterday’s unexpected cold snap, it was great to feel warm again. At 8.7 kilometres, we exchanged the cycle track for a forest trail and then a rocky footpath.

The landscape was opening up with wooded, rolling hills all around us. On we walked, passing through deserted villages with not a single bar or cafe. In fact, not one of them had any sign of life despite the property renovations taking place. Perhaps this was the commuter belt for Ourém and Fátima and everyone was at work? Around midday, we realised we hadn’t passed a single person for hours. In this landscape of ghost towns, it felt oddly fitting that the only people we saw were a group of gravediggers in a cemetery. They didn’t acknowledge us.

All signs of civilisation gradually faded and we found ourselves back on proper tracks lined with prickly pear cacti (the first we’ve seen since leaving the Algarve two weeks ago). With cacti and the abundance of olive trees, the landscape was starting to feel more familiar, as was the temperature. We stopped briefly for snacks on an elongated boulder – in full sunshine as there was nowhere to sit in the shade. Harri studied the online mapping and announced the good news: it looked like there was a bar a few kilometres ahead. The bad news was we still had some tough hiking between our current spot and those ice-cold drinks.

The path had narrowed and there was now a lot of rock slab underfoot, with frequent rocky steps. It wasn’t unlike the footpath on top of Rocha da Pena in the Algarve. I hadn’t realised how high we’d climbed until we were faced with a difficult and often quite technical descent, which included scrambling over several fallen trees. It’s descents like this that really slow me down – these days more so than steep climbs. I focused carefully on where I was putting my feet, thankful I’d brought poles with me (they were rarely needed on the actual caminho).

After a section of level walking, we started climbing again. To spur me on, Harri told me it was ‘about’ two kilometres to the bar he’d located online. Knowing his tendency to round off distances (he thinks it’s encouraging), I understood this to mean under three kilometres. I was right to be sceptical. We reached Fungalvaz – isn’t that the most brilliant place name – 2.9 kilometres later. Unfortunately, walking into a bar on this hot afternoon didn’t mean we were going to be getting a drink anytime soon. It transpired that the sole barman had mysteriously disappeared and nobody knew when he’d return. It was 2.40pm and, while we stood waiting (and gasping for a drink), a local woman on our side of the bar told us she ran the shop next door. She’d be reopening at 3pm, she said, and her prices were cheaper than the bar. Rather than looking after passing hikers, it seemed Fungalvaz businesses preferred to torture them.

In desperation, I left Harri in the bar to see if I could find someplace else to buy a drink. There was nowhere, but thankfully by the time I returned the barman was back (from where we’ll never know). While we’d waited and wiltered, a sizeable group of older English people sitting outside were really going for it alcohol-wise. After the barman’s return, a man wearing a Deep Purple tour tee-shirt entered the bar and ordered and paid for what appeared to be large tumblers of fire water. This somehow convinced Harri that Deep Purple – who amazingly he’d never heard of – were hanging out in Fungalvaz. That did make me laugh, but the notion of a famous rock musician hanging out in a Portuguese village isn’t quite as crazy as it sounds. For a long time, Iron Maiden’s bassist Steve Harris owned Eddie’s Bar in Santa Bárbara de Nexe (it closed in 2017).

In the end, we lingered for 45 minutes, enjoying a much-needed break in the cool, shady bar. Despite the soaring temperature, we’d kept going from 9am to 2.45pm with only one stop. It was 3.40pm and so hot and hilly that within twenty minutes of leaving the bar in Fungalvaz energised and satiated we were again flagging. Thankfully the terrain was a lot easier now as we followed a road with amazing views of the surrounding hills and the still-distant Tomar castle.

The highlight of today’s walking was always going to be the Pegões Aqueduct just outside Tomar and we were already starting to get glimpses of it between the trees. This incredible aqueduct was built to supply water to the Convent of Christ in Tomar. When you consider its vast size – it stretches for six to seven kilometres and boasts 180 arches – it’s incredible this monumental feat of engineering was completed in 1619.

Harri had seen online accounts mentioning it was possible to walk across the aqueduct. Not sure what to expect, we followed a narrow footpath leading to a small stone tower. Here, the true extent of Portugal’s approach to health and safety hit home. Yes, in theory you could walk across the Pegões Aqueduct because there is absolutely nothing to stop you doing so – no barriers, no fencing, and not even a sign suggesting it’s not the most sensible idea to venture out onto that narrow ledge if you one day hope to claim your pension. From the stone tower – which is as far as my shaking legs would carry me – you just clamber through an open-gated doorway onto the 30-metre high water channel. I estimated the ledge to be about 80cm wide; there was no handrail. Feeling more than a little vertiginous, I backed away from the window, but not before I’d spotted three men sitting on the far side of the aqueduct.

Realising that walking across this ancient monument was a no-go, Harri went off to check out a footpath that ran underneath the aqueduct, but it was steep and overgrown. In the end, we had no option but to rejoin the road and pass through one of the magnificent arches at ground level. I couldn’t stop looking up. Did the men sitting up there have no sense of fear, I wondered. Had anyone ever fallen off the Pegões Aqueduct? (I have checked and it seems there are no records of this ever having happened.)

After our less-than-enjoyable experiences of walking into Porto, Coimbra and Fátima, our expectations for the final stretch into Tomar were low to say the least. We were delighted to be proven wrong: the last 2.5 kilometres of walking were delightfully scenic. Tomar is a city surrounded by wooded hills and, as we walked past its beautiful old buildings, I experienced an unfamiliar emotion: a sense of achieving something impressive, of arriving somewhere significant. Was this how thousands of pilgrims felt when they walked into Santiago de Compostela?

Tomar is, of course, a historic city which is best known as the headquarters of the Knights Templar in Portugal. Its most famous landmark, the Convent of Christ, is a UNESCO World Heritage site. Last time we visited this beautiful city, we were passing through and so it was again in October 2025.

Summary

A long but enjoyable day’s hiking with plenty for the eyes to feast upon, not least the magnificent Pegões Aqueduct near Tomar. The walking was a little more technical than much of the Caminho do Norte, but nothing too challenging for this world-weary pilgrim. Overall, one of the better days of hiking of our entire trip.

Accommodation

We paid 60 euros for a really nice double room at the Family House Cup in the centre of Tomar. No breakfast was provided but there was a good-sized shared kitchen downstairs. The facilities were all new with plenty of attention to detail and some lovely historical touches in a nod to Tomar’s long history.

Our route

The one-day caminho between Fatima and Tomar is described on the website as being 31 kilometres (there is no mention of ascent or difficulty level).

Harri mapped out the route on Outdoor Active as being 32.6 kilometres with 309 metres of climbing. Click here for details.

This was moreorless accurate as I tracked 32.7 kilometres with 310 metres (for once we stuck with the ‘official’ route rather than looking for more scenic options).