You step off the minivan with salt on your lips and the Atlantic already calling — the coastline here does not wait politely. From Lagos the road peels east toward Carvoeiro, and within half an hour the cliffs begin to change color: honey limestone turns to ochre as waves sculpt places where the sea has learned to make rooms. The morning boat hums out from Carvoeiro beach, and the pilot eases into a procession of caves and arches. Benagil does not reveal itself from inland; it waits, a hollow in the cliff with a skylight that frames the sky like a natural amphitheater.