The End of the World

A promontory juts out into the Atlantic Ocean on the southwest tip of Portugal. I would love to claim that this bit of land is the closest in Europe to North America, but if one understands the geometry of a Great Circle, one knows that a straight line on a map is not necessarily the shortest distance between two points on this ball of a planet we call Earth.

Even so, if one looks at a traditional Mercator projection map, it looks as though the place on which I am standing now is the closest point in Europe to my home near the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Whether or not that is so, I can understand why little peninsulas like this one were regarded by the ancients as “land’s end,” or “the end of the world.”

Although it may not be the end of the world, geographically speaking, it was the end if this world for the saint who gave this cape its name.

Around the year 360 A. D. a Christian named Vincent in Saragossa (Roman name: “Caesar Augustus”) was tortured and killed for his faith. The Roman soldiers threw his dead body in a rowboat, and pushed it out to sea. It landed here, a widow found it and buried the body where the largest lighthouse in Portugal now prevents passing ships from crashing on these rocks.

It is hard to dismiss this ancient oral tradition as completely false. There must be some kind of history that attaches the story of Saint Vincent to this place. It seems unlikely that this particular tale about this particular saint would have originated in this particular place spontaneously. Of course, it could have happened, but it seems unlikely.

Cabo St. Vincent is indescribably beautiful. I could be convinced it is the end of the world. It certainly is among its most beautiful places.Read more