Curve, counter-curve. Curve, counter-curve.
The car stopped for my sister to throw up.
Curve, counter-curve. Curve, counter-curve.
And finally, we arrived in Gerês.

We were by a lake, the water was so transparent, but it was deep... And I played with my cousins freely, sometimes in, sometimes out of the water.
At that time I think parents were more carefree, they made us feel at ease, maybe too much at ease... I'm not sure how, but suddenly I was drowning.

I remember moving my arms trying to reach the surface, but I kept going slowly to the bottom... and I was suffocating.

Out of the blue, a hand grabs me and pulls me out of the water. My uncle saved my life.
These vague memories are the only ones I have from my first trip to the Peneda-Gerês National Park, on a family trip that has never been repeated. There was no further relevant detail. I remember that it was all green and that it smelled good, but I have no memories of that day other than the ones I am telling you.
I should have been four or five years old at the time.

The truth is that it didn't traumatize me, nor do I have a deep memory of that incident. It was only years later that I began to think about these events. And only then did I remember that place again. The “Gerês”. But my parents didn't have a car, so I couldn't go back there at the time. I was left with the memories.

Stay with me, travel in my heart's memories to know my unconditional love for our only National Park...

This story continues...

 Pedro Caldas