I explored the Algarve by motorhome, with quiet beaches and beautiful towns

Explosions of dry aloe point the way through tight roads and towards the sea, over rolling, arid hills and past grassless farms. As our rental motorhome rolls to a halt in Praia do Zavial’s snug car park, we’re greeted by the sight of a gentle ocean flanked by vast cliffs, with a sparsely populated beach. It’s my septuagenarian parents, of course, who notice the sparsely populated beach bar, so while my partner and I sun, they beer. It’s the apex of all intergenerational relations – and of our five-day Algarve campervan experiment. We’re among a growing number of travellers trying out van life. Rental company Roadsurfer has seen a 30 per cent year on year increase in bookings, and a recent survey by Practical Caravan found 53 per cent of Brits are likely to choose a motorhome or caravan holiday over flying abroad, with more than half saying it was the freedom of touring that appealed. Shorts Keen for a taste of the open road ourselves, our mission is clear: to drive and “camp” the 163km stretch of Portugal’s Algarve, shunning hotel comfort and tat-filled tourist towns (mostly) in favour of a compact camper, cut-off coves and spontaneous stop-offs. My partner D and I won’t be alone, however, as my parents are joining us. Oh, and did I mention this is all taking place in the middle of a heatwave? For uninitiated van-lifers like D and I (we’ll be picking my folks up later), the first challenge is working out how to operate the damn thing. A deep-dive induction precedes pickup of the colossal Camper Castle from Roadsurfer’s Seville depot, just over the Spanish border. Systems, we learn, are crucial: there’s fresh water to fill, grey water to sluice, and, yes, much toilet-based slop to be, er, handled. The Guadiana International Bridge spans the Guadiana River to connect Spain and Portugal (Photo: Tono Balaguer/Getty) Beyond that there are enough locks, latches, switches and swivel chairs to fool you into thinking you’re on the deck of the Millennium Falcon. When D (who does all the driving, while I assume the role of “vibes officer”) steers us on to the Spanish highway, it’s not hyperspeed we’re concerned about, but the cacophony of rattling cupboards, cups and cutlery. D soon masters the camper’s numerous blind spots, and a scorched, arid Spain gives way to the rising cables of the Guadiana International Bridge, which connects us with Portugal. As we settle into the shifting landscape of caramel hills peppered with olive groves and dry-looking cattle, it’s nearly time to pull in for the night at Parque Municipal de Campismo de Monte Gordo, just west of the quaint town of Vila Real de Santo António. Locked up, we head off in search of a gelado (ice cream) in town, with its lime-washed buildings and vast square, Praça Marquês de Pombal, lined with black-and-white striped, mosaic-style “Portuguese pavement”. Lemon gelado ingested, we return to the camper to see if the AC can even put a dent in El Niño. Mercifully, it’s good enough to get a night’s sleep. The main square of Vila Real de Santo António, with its monochrome tiled pavement (Photo: Hein van Tonder/Getty) Next morning, we’re back on the road, though not before having almost driven away while still plugged into the mains. Lessons learnt, we ease into the driving life: easy, sun-soaked routes past lines of running vineyards, with quick coffee stops to marvel at Jurassic-looking storks nesting atop vast pylons. With water this tempting and heat this intense (hitting over 35°C daily), we pull in for a lunchtime dip at Praia da Manta Rota but are sidetracked spotting wild chameleons along the beach’s impressive boardwalk, which connects dune and pine with sand and sea. When we finally do reach the cool Atlantic, we practically topple in headfirst. Back on the road, we get the gift of a bruising sunset across the mirror-like salt pans, in use since Phoenician times, that form part of Ria Formosa natural reserve. That evening, at the family-friendly Camping Ria Formosa, D has to take an unavoidable work call, so I catch the train one stop from the nearby Conceição station to lively Tavira, with its gleaming, white-stone buildings and handful of al fresco tourist bars. Two beers and two chapters of a book later, I’ve hit my limit. Just as fado musicians with guitars and men with buckets of plastic roses start circling, I slink back to the camper, grateful for this “choose your own adventure” style of travel. The limestone cliffs at Praia de São Rafael, near Albufeira (Photo: Federica Grassi/Getty) Come morning, we gather up my parents at Faro airport, and the once-spacious Camper Castle now feels a little more cramped. We settle in among the youthful clientele of Parque Campismo Praia Faro, watched over by a muraled water tower, with Faro’s vast beach and bars only steps away. An easy Portuguese supper of sardines on toast is washed down with a bottle of local white, and we raise a glass to the first family holiday in a decade. Come bedtime, the Camper Castle plays its ace as we yank the living room ceiling down until it becomes, in seconds, a double bed. By mid-morning we wander down to the secluded Praia de São Rafael, where limestone cliffs and craggy boulders rise up out of the cerulean sea. With the heat ever increasing, we head inland, finding a place to park up via EasyCamp , a fantastic sustainable tourism initiative that aims to alleviate campervan pressure on the coast by offering unique stays inland and on less populated stretches of coast. We luck out at Quinta do Canhoto vineyard, just outside Albufeira. For just the cost of a €29 (£25) “welcome pack” (booked online only hours before, and which includes two bottles of excellent wine), we find ourselves camping out among the verdant vines, with only the darting swifts for company. The writer and family were able to park up for the night right next to the vines (Photo: Jonnie Bayfield) Having braved a night sans AC (bearable but not ideal) we spend the next day plugged in at Camping Alvor, close to the buzzy former fishing town. Along the cobbled backstreets we find an excellent and surprisingly affordable dinner of fresh ceviche and tuna tartare at Ostraria da Alvor. The next day we take our jaunt to the stunning Praia do Zavial, and before we lose the light, we take a quick drive down to the red lighthouse at Cape St Vincent, the south-western most point of continental Europe, considered by the Romans to be the edge of the known world. Sadly, just like our centurion chums of centuries past, we now have to turn back. Yet, with hardly a hitch, we’ve driven the entire length of the Algarve, in relative comfort, free as birds, with plenty of time for suntans and not a resort karaoke night in sight. Our final night at the picturesque Salema Eco Camp seals the van-life conversion. As the sun sets and the cicadas take over, the four of us happily sink vinho verde and play card games until even our solar lantern can’t discern which suit is which. We were looking for a family escape with the freedom of the open road, so maybe squeezing ourselves into a holiday-apartment on wheels isn’t the worst way to go about it after all. How to do it EasyJet flies from Gatwick to Seville, where Roadsurfer offers Camper Castle rental from £67 a night. Other campervan models are available across the UK, Europe and North America. More information Airport parking and lounge access were provided by HolidayExtras.com.