Lupa: A New Companion

The story of behind how I acquired a four-legged, furry amigo when I was passing through a valley in the Algarve.

It’s been nearly a year since I was last in the Algarve — the southern coastal region of Portugal. I often find myself pondering about the impact that our internal world has on how we perceive our memory of a certain time and place. What’s going on inside of us is pivotal in terms of shaping our relationship to the outside world. I was hesitant to return because of the heavy connotations that the Algarve had by the time I left. It was a phase of deconstruction for me — stripping back, letting go. Painful and messy but ultimately necessary. 

When a friend told me that he had bought some land near the idyllic surfer town of Aljezur, I knew that it was time to return and begin reshaping my perception of this region. As I drove further south, the horizon of the Serra de Monchique became visible in the distance. This was my home for 9 months before I left. A place where I found peace and solitude from the chaos of the outside world. The rolling foothills covered in eucalyptus, the wild and untamed valleys begin to resurface into my memory — but this wasn’t my destination this time. I was heading for the coast.

As I rolled steadily in my steel wagon towards Aljezur, I tried and remember the vague directions I was provided with. Over the hill, left at the bins, 4 kilometres down the valley. The sun was setting and it was harder than usual to avoid the gaping potholes in the road. It became more wild the further I went into the valley — the road increasingly becoming narrower, bendier and bumpier. I double checked my directions, questioning whether I had passed it or not. I eventually saw the sign and turned right onto a muddy track. Like a deer caught in headlights, there he was — Mike, looking dazzled and confused, holding two 25 litre bottles of water that he fetched from the flowing stream next to his land. 

After spending the evening catching up and sharing a meal, I headed back over to the van to get some sleep. When I woke up in the morning, I was amazed by the fertility and biodiversity of this little valley. Patches of wildflowers dotted the meadow and the surrounding hills were mostly natural and untamed, apart from small patches of eucalyptus. This was the real definition of a retreat. Completely off-grid, wild and silent — apart from the birdsong and rustling of leaves in the wind.

As I stepped out the van to get a better look, I was joined by an unidentified, four-legged companion. I had no idea where she came from, but she was the most majestic dog that I have seen since being in Portugal — golden brown hair with patches of white, soft to touch. Athletically built, energetic and playful. We chased each other round and it seemed I had instantly made a new friend. I had a deep feeling that when I get a dog, it would surely be a dog like this one. 

I went back to my home-on-wheels and began to get ready for the day. As I was writing and looking out of my window, I noticed something that completely took me by surprise — the majestic dog I had met earlier, had puppies. I asked my friend to introduce me to the girl, Maria, who was looking after them. We sat and spoke for while, she explained there were originally nine puppies but all of the others had been adopted. There was only one left. Lupa. 

When I sat down, he excitedly ran over to me and proceeded to fall asleep on my lap. There was an instant connection. In this moment, I found myself completely emotionally ambushed. I had been planning on getting a dog for some time, but I wasn’t expecting this to be the moment. I had recently been grieving the loss of my beloved cat, as I returned her to England to live a more stable and cat-friendly lifestyle. Travelling through 5 different countries with an anxious cat was pretty stressful.

I knew that a dog would be much more suitable for an adventure companion. It now seemed that something was aligning that I hadn’t seen coming. This often seems to be the case — you might well get what you wish for, but you can’t control when it’s going to happen. I told Maria that I needed some time to really consider my options and then make a decision later that weekend. 

The next time I saw her at the local market on the following Sunday, I had made my decision. It was a whole-hearted yes. So there I was, back at the land in the off-grid valley, surrounded once again by green fields and wildflowers, ready to start a new voyage with a new four-legged companion. It would be fair to say that at this point, my relationship to this region has been alchemised from negative to positive — an association made from deconstruction and letting go, to the eventual renewal and the gain of something unforeseen but beautiful.