7 Years Off-Grid in Portugal: Part 1 - The Dream vs Reality (First 6 Months)
- Alex Sully
- Feb 11
- 7 min read
This is Part 1 of my 7-year off-grid journey in Portugal. What started as a dream in a remote valley became a masterclass in community, chaos, and what it really takes to start over.*
If you’re thinking about moving off-grid, buying land in Portugal, or radically changing your life—this is what nobody tells you.
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The Gamble: Buying Portuguese Land Sight Unseen
After two years of searching online and getting nowhere, I took a gamble. I bought a hectare of land in a remote Portuguese valley without ever viewing it.
Sometimes the universe rewards the leap. But I don’t recommend it lol.
It was more beautiful than the pictures had shown. A paradise. Rolling hills. Ancient trees. A river nearby. Silence so deep you could hear your own heartbeat.
This was it. The dream. We were moving to paradise with nothing but a vision of living in peace and nature.
I’d left everything behind. A career. The security. The salary. The life everyone told me I should want.
I arrived with my girlfriend, our four dogs, a caravan full of our belongings, and a dream of living differently.
Reality hit fast.
When the Caravan Wouldn’t Fit (And Portuguese Farmers Saved the Day)
The track to our land was so tight, so winding, so overgrown that we couldn’t even get the caravan there. We tried. We really tried. Branches scraping against metal. Wheels slipping on loose stone. It was impossible with the car and experience I had—not a lot of experience as it was my first time ever towing a 7m caravan.
So we unloaded everything by hand and moved it all into a bell tent. Our entire life in a canvas circle. I stood there looking at the caravan stuck on the road and thought, “Well, that’s that then.” I’d have to sell it on the street. Take the loss. Move on.
The Portuguese Community That Changed Everything
Then something happened that changed how I see the world.
Some Portuguese farmers appeared out of nowhere. Old guys. Weathered hands. Not a word of English between them.
They didn’t ask what I needed. They didn’t wait to be asked. They just assessed the situation and got to work.
One disappeared and came back with tools to cut back the trees blocking the path. One brought a tractor and chains to tow the caravan through. One cleared space on the land itself, removing stumps and brush so there’d be somewhere to actually put it. One levelled an area of ground so the caravan could sit stable.
My estate agent heard what was happening. He missed a funeral to come and help.
A funeral. For a stranger who’d just bought a piece of land.
Not a single word was exchanged about payment. No negotiations. No expectations. They saw someone struggling and they just showed up. It was incredible and heartwarming.
The caravan got battered on the way through. The track was so tight and bendy that the back end got badly separated from the body. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed with some screws and duct tape. But it made it. We made it.
That was my first real lesson about Portugal. About community. About what happens when you step outside the transactional world and into something older and more human. The Portuguese are really kind and beautiful people.
A few days later, one of the farmers returned. He brought fruit trees. Vegetables from his garden. A welcome gift. No words needed. A nod that said, “You’re here now. You’re one of us.”
I’ve never forgotten it.
Paradise Meets Reality: Life in a Bell Tent and Battered Caravan
But paradise quickly became reality.
And the reality was this: after the fantasy wore off a bit after a couple of months…we were living in a field. In a battered caravan held together with screws and duct tape. No electricity. No running water. No toilet. No shower. Four dogs. Forty-six degree heat. And a dream that was starting to feel more like survival.
So we built.
Building Basic Infrastructure Off-Grid
I made a compost toilet so we didn’t have to dig holes in the forest for our bathroom. Rigged up a shower from black coiled pipe that would heat in the sun.
Built an open-air outdoor lounge from pallets and shade covers. Created a pumping system from the well to an IBC tank, then gravity fed the water down to the caravan and shower.
We cooked on an outdoor fire with a big pot. Watched the flames under the stars. Learned what we actually needed versus what we thought we needed.
When the rain came, it would all stop working. No sun meant no hot water. No power meant no pump. We’d sit in the caravan listening to the downpour and wait it out. The well overfilled and flooded the land, destroying the vegetable garden we’d worked so hard to plant.
It was difficult. Really difficult.
And it was real. And magical. Both at the same time.
46-Degree Heat: When My Girlfriend Left
My girlfriend lasted a few months.
The heat that summer was relentless. Forty-six degrees some days. No shade yet. No infrastructure. She kept passing out. Her body just couldn’t regulate in those conditions.
There was big fire around our land that summer too which was a scary experience. Even though we didn’t get affected the fear was very real with it being so close .
When One of Our Dogs Started Having Heart Attacks
One of our dogs started having heart attacks from the heat. We bought a cheap paddling pool and spent our days constantly dipping her in it, watching her pant, praying she’d make it through each wave. We rushed her to the vet and got her on heart medication. It was terrifying. Every time she collapsed and had seizures we thought we’d lose her.
There was a big fire around our land that summer too which was a scary experience. Even though we didn’t get affected the fear was very real with it being so close.
My girlfriend wasn’t built for this. And honestly, I don’t blame her. This life isn’t for everyone. It wasn’t a failure. It was just the truth.
Alone with Four Dogs in the Middle of Nowhere
So we broke up and she left. And suddenly I was alone.
Just me and four dogs in a battered caravan in the middle of a field, with nothing but the sound of the river and the birds and my own thoughts for company.
It was terrifying but it was exactly what I needed.
How Paradise Became a Party Valley
Then the chaos arrived.
The farmer who’d sold me my hectare saw there was money to be made. Word spread. Within weeks, every plot around me went on the market. And they sold. Fast.
I don’t think any of them realised what they were inviting in. They saw money. Quick sales. Foreign interest in land they’d had for generations.
They didn’t see what was coming. How could they?
When 16 People Moved Into Our Quiet Valley
Within six months there were sixteen people living in the valley.
Sound stages appeared. Someone built a cinema. Makeshift bars. Drugs. Parties that went until sunrise. Music that echoed off the hillsides at 3am.
Drama. So much drama. Arguments about boundaries. About noise. About who owed who what. People who’d come here to “escape” bringing all their chaos with them.
I’d found paradise. And then paradise filled up with people running from themselves.
From silence to madness in half a year.
The Portuguese Farmers Who Stopped Waving
Those same farmers who’d sold the land and welcomed me with fruit trees and open hearts?
They started to hate everyone in that valley. They’d traded their peace for money they probably didn’t even need.
And now it was gone.
The beautiful nature they’d tended for generations was being destroyed. The paths where they’d walked their goats for decades were now blocked or trashed. The peace they’d known their entire lives was shattered by bass lines and generator hum and people who didn’t understand that this land wasn’t just “cheap property.” It was someone’s home. Someone’s heritage.
Rubbish everywhere. Trash in the river. Abandoned structures. The valley that had welcomed me with such grace was being torn apart by people who took without giving. Who consumed without respecting.
I’d tried to be different. I was always respectful. Tried to integrate. Learned some Portuguese. Waved. Kept my land clean. Honoured their way of life.
But it didn’t matter. I was guilty by association. Just another foreigner in a valley full of foreigners who’d ruined everything.
The farmers stopped waving. Stopped bringing vegetables. Started looking through all of us like we weren’t there.
I didn’t blame them.
Why I Left My First Land in Portugal
I couldn’t stay.
Not because of the parties or the drama or the noise. I could’ve weathered that.
But watching what was being done to those farmers. To their goats that could no longer roam freely. To the land they’d cared for their whole lives. To the peace they’d earned that others had stolen.
I couldn’t be part of it anymore.
So I just left to deal with it later. And I made myself a promise.
Never again.
The 15-Hectare Gamble: A New Beginning
I found a 15 hectare plot. House with no kitchen or bathroom…one tap outside run from a gravity fed lake…windows smashed, metal door with holes in it and wind blowing through also there was 3 barns with caved in roofs full of hay and dead animals…and it was December…but the land was big enough that no one could surround me. Big enough that I’d never watch another valley get destroyed. Big enough to protect the peace I’d come here to find. And it was extremely beautiful with views as far as the eye could see. Olive groves and fruit trees, wells and springs and the oldest cork oaks I’ve ever seen.
But I couldn’t afford it outright.
The Six-Month Race Against Time
So I took another gamble. I put down a deposit and moved in right away. I had a house back in the UK that I’d been renting out. If I could sell it within six months, I could pay off the rest of the land.
Six months. That was the deal. That was all I had.
Another leap of faith.
And that’s when the real journey began…
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This is just the beginning of my 7-year off-grid journey in Portugal.
What happened in those next 6 months—the house with no kitchen, the race to sell my UK property, the winter in a structure with holes in the walls—taught me everything about resilience, trust, and building from nothing.
👉 [Read Part 2: The House with No Kitchen →]
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Experience This Transformation Yourself
I now run off-grid transformation retreats at WyldeRoots in Portugal, where I’ve lived for 7 years. If this story resonates with you and you’re ready for your own transformation:
Book a WyldeRoots Retreat
Experience life by the river
Join The Wylde Path Course
12 week transformation program (€479)
Book a 1:1 Consultation
Personal guidance (€99)
From managing an £85 million company to living by a Portuguese river, this journey taught me what real wealth actually means. And I’d love to share it with you.
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Have your own off-grid Portugal story? Share it in the comments below.
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