Lisbon builds recreational paths along the Tagus

I spent several days in Lisbon in late January. This was my first trip to Lisbon since 2014. (I had also visited in 1998.)

I particularly wanted to take a look at the recreational paths along the Tagus (Tejo) that the city has been—very slowly—creating. I had walked along the path between Belém and the old CBD in 2014 and had been deeply impressed by it. There are very few urban walks in the world that are as aesthetically pleasing, at least to me. I had also been bothered by the path’s incompleteness.

Lisbon’s waterside recreational paths are (like those in other Western cities) in part a product of a movement in recent decades to focus infrastructure work on non-automobile transportation.

But the pattern of this effort has been somewhat different in Lisbon than in, say, northern Europe.

One difference is that governments in Lisbon have simply not had the resources to do as much as has been possible in, say, London or Paris. Funds were particularly short in the years after the 2007-2009 fiscal crisis.¹

There is also the issue that in some ways Lisbon became a “modern” city later than its counterparts in northern Europe, and this has had major consequences for its urban form. The city’s greatest period of rural-to-urban population growth took place in the 1970s rather than in, say, the 19th century. Most of this growth thus occurred during an era when travel by automobile (or bus) was available. It’s likely that a large proportion of newcomers to the city ended up living in apartment buildings not too far from suburban railroad lines, but most post-1960 residential and commercial buildings in Lisbon have accommodated automobiles in one way or another. The fact that governments kept building new automobile infrastructure through the 1990s also encouraged automobile dependence.

The IP7 freeway in the Sete Rios area. The view is from Monsanto. Lisbon’s government was still building urban freeways in the late 1990s.

As a result, even though parts of Lisbon’s inner city (especially the “Seven Hills” area where tourists tend to spend their time) are pretty dense and the urban area now has a population of something like three million, Lisbon’s “modal split” is more automobile-centric than in the larger cities of northern Europe.² In the Lisbon area, more people get to work by car than by public transport. In similarly-sized Vienna (as well as in most other substantial places in northern Europe), the opposite is true. There are all the usual consequences. Traffic jams are common. Air quality isn’t as good as one would expect it to be in a city near the ocean. The city depends to an uncomfortable extent on imported fossil fuels. And, of course, there are numerous deaths and injuries.

Traffic jam on the Rua das Amoreiras, which, like most streets in the older parts of the city, simply can’t handle more than a small amount of car traffic.

Lisbon’s governments did change course in small ways long before the current century. The city’s modest Metro (first line: 1959) has been enlarged slowly (it’s now up to 44 km in length), and there are plans to keep adding new segments. Numerous improvements in the city’s suburban rail system have also been made over the years, and its annual ridership—159 million—approaches that of the Metro—174 million.³

Suburban trains at the Oriente station (which was designed by Santiago Calatrava).

Emphasis shifted much more substantially in the 21st century. Lisbon’s planning apparatus is now fully on board with the idea that one should focus at least a little bit more than in the past on non-automotive transportation. A recent general statement on the city’s goals can be found on a website of the Câmara Municipal (city government) devoted to “mobility.” Just about all the goals listed are connected with making things easier for pedestrians, cyclists, and transit users.⁴ A recent article in Diário de Notícias⁵ (probably Portugal’s major “serious” newspaper) describes the accomplishments that current mayor Carlos Moedas is most proud of. The majority of these involve making Lisbon a more pedestrian-friendly place.⁶ Among the projects listed are the extension of tram line 15 (the major east-west tram route); enlarged pedestrian spaces in Sete Rios (where elevated freeways and railroad lines and a major arterial make life difficult for those on foot); increased green space in the Praça de Espanha (which, at present, is not much of a plaza); and a better pedestrian connection along the Tagus between the two main railway stations, Santa Apolónia and Cais do Sodré.

Signs advertising the new Praça de Espanha that demonstrate the changed emphasis of Lisbon’s planning efforts. Translation of signs: “Welcome to the new Praça de Espanha. New green park of 5 hectares. New bus corridor and bicycle path. New pedestrian routes. New areas for leisure and sport. Less heat, more air quality.”

An example of a major transformation that goes back several years has been the creation of a fairly coherent network of bicycle lanes and paths (ciclovias). Many arterials, especially in the outer city, are now bordered by such paths. I wouldn’t say that the bike paths seem very crowded, however, and many of those using them are driving scooters. Lisbon may have pleasanter weather than northern European cities, but it’s a hilly place and, as such, perhaps not an ideal city for cycling. Bicycle commuting is rare in Lisbon. The city’s crowded and mountainous inner-city neighborhoods must be particularly difficult places for cyclists, and there are few bicycle lanes there.

Little used ciclovia along the Avenida Calouste Gulbenkian.

Government actions have not been limited to the creation of bicycle paths. Another major change: numerous streets in the Baixa (Chiado), the old central business district, have been pedestrianized. (Some street closings in the Baixa go back many years.)

There have also been several cases where completely new pedestrian infrastructure has been built. An example is the 1.2-km walking and cycling path between Edward VII Park—the largest inner-city traditional park—and Monsanto—a long-existing mountainous park just northwest of the older part of the city. The two bridges on this path—the Ponte Gonçalo Ribeiro Telles and the Ponte Monsanto—are especially impressive. The former, which passes over the Avenida Calouste Gulbenkian, provides quite striking views down the Alcântara Valley. Like Lisbon’s other new pedestrian routes, the path between Edward VII Park and Monsanto does not seem to have a formal name (a major missed branding opportunity—more on this below).

The Ponte Gonçalo Ribeiro on the path between Edward VII Park and Monsanto. Lisbon’s 18th-century aqueduct is in the background.

The largest-scale new pedestrian infrastructure in Lisbon consists of three new or newish recreational paths along the Tagus. These paths in some ways resemble many of the world’s other urban waterfront paths. They take advantage of the distinctive views and near-absence of cross streets close to a major body of water. Establishing these paths has involved overcoming some of the same problems encountered in building their counterparts elsewhere. Lisbon’s Tagus waterfront has been the site of the city’s port for centuries. Much of the city’s waterfront has also been the region’s main industrial zone. While there has been some consolidation of port activities and some movement of industrial activities to the city’s suburbs (and to China), these developments appear to be at an earlier stage than in other European cities, and the construction of a huge container port just upstream from the 25 of April Bridge guarantees that the port isn’t going to move far. A great deal of the Lisbon waterfront is still a busy port and industrial zone and hence an awkward place for new pedestrian and bicycling paths. Here are maps showing how this works.

Map emphasizing passenger rail lines and pedestrian and bicycle facilities in the central part of the Lisbon region. Note that the category “Tram lines, etc.” includes three funicular railways and that the categories “Pedestrian facilities” and “Bicycle paths” are not always as clearly distinguished on the ground as they are on the map. The four numbers refer to four of the recreational paths discussed in the text, of which only the fourth appears to have a formal name: 1. Path between Edward VII Park and Monsanto. 2 Path between Belém and Cais do Sodré. 3. Paths in the Parque das Nações. 4. Caminhada na Zona Ribeirinha do Tejo. The nominal scale of the map is 1:60,000. That’s the scale it would have if printed on an 11-x-17-inch piece of paper. Most of the basic GIS data come from the Geofabrik version of OpenStreetMap; some of these data have been modified considerably. The map is clickable, enlargeable, and downloadable.

Map emphasizing passenger rail lines and pedestrian and bicycling facilities in central Lisbon. Nominal scale is 1:25,000. See previous map for notes.

The longest of the three new paths runs approximately 7 km between Belém and Cais do Sodré, the train station on the southwestern edge of Lisbon’s old central business district, the Baixa.⁷ This path has been around to some extent for at least a couple of decades, but it’s never acquired a name or (so far as I can tell) been administered by an entity with the power to close remaining gaps or to finish it.

The stretch west (downstream) from the 25 of April Bridge is the most elaborate and most heavily used segment. Parts of the path here are wide, with clearly separated pedestrian and bicycle lanes (that users tend to ignore). The path provides exceptionally pleasing views of the Tagus, of the 25 of April Bridge, and of several important buildings and monuments in Belém. Users are constantly reminded that they are in Lisbon. This segment would be a good candidate for any list of the world’s most distinctive and pleasant urban recreational paths. Here’s a photograph made from the roof of the newish (2016) Museum of Art, Architecture, and Technology (MAAT), which is right on the path.

Part of the recreational path between Belém and Cais do Sodré looking south from the roof of the Museum of Art, Architecture, and Technology (MAAT). The photograph shows the curved roof of the padel court under the 25 of April Bridge; one of the bridge towers; and a container port just beyond the bridge, The photograph at the beginning of this post was made from the path itself at a point maybe 100 m west.

There are other parts of this path that are a bit more awkward. At one point, for example, it runs through a gas station.

An awkward spot on the path between Belém and Cais do Sodré.

East of (upstream from) the 25 of April Bridge the path runs mostly through industrial areas and in places is quite difficult to follow. Sometimes there is only a bicycle lane and no obvious place for pedestrians. I’m pretty sure that there has been no significant improvement since I last walked the path in 2014. There are signs of gentrification. In a few places, restaurants have been built into old factories. It needs to be said that even in the path’s most awkward stretches users are rewarded with views of the river on the south and of some of Lisbon’s most distinctive neighborhoods on the north.

The recreational path between Belém and Cais do Sodré in one of the places where it passes through an industrial zone east of the 25 of April Bridge. This area is beginning to be gentrified in small ways. Note the restaurant being added on the right. Note also the hilly residential neighborhood in the background.

The second of Lisbon’s three newish waterfront recreational paths is in eastern Lisbon in a formerly industrial zone that’s almost completely lost its industrial function. It’s in the Parque das Nações, an entity that in effect replaced Lisbon’s Expo 98 when the latter closed after a season. The Parque das Nações is one of the least park-like parks in the world. One reason is that many of the Expo buildings were left in place. Some were repurposed; others remain on site waiting for a new use. The park now contains an oceanarium, a science museum, a concert hall, a marina, a casino, numerous restaurants, and a great deal of housing. It abuts a major shopping center and Metro and suburban-rail stations.

The park also contains a nearly 5-km-long path along the river that attracts a fair number of users.

Path along the Tagus in the Parque das Nações. The bridge in the background is the Vasco da Gama Bridge.

The path, like the Belém-to-Cais-do-Sodré path, doesn’t have a name. It has several. Signs refer users variously to the Passeio do Tejo, the Caminho do Tejo, and the Caminho dos Pinheiros, and parts of the path are identified as segments of the Caminhos de Fátima e de Santiago. I don’t know why Lisbon paths aren’t branded more consistently!

Whatever its name, the path provides wonderful views of the Tagus Estuary, which is more than 10 km wide at this point, as well as of the 17-km-long Vasco da Gama Bridge. At its northern end, the path is unpaved. It takes users up to the Rio Trancão, where a freeway discourages further movement. Most of the path is paved, but the paved sections are definitely showing signs of wear after twenty-five years of intensive use. 

The Parque das Nações’ pavement has seen better days.

The third new waterfront path is even further north, outside Lisbon proper and partly off the map that accompanies this post. This path has a semi-official name. It’s the Caminhada na Zona Ribeirinha do Tejo, and it runs through the Parque Linear Ribeirinho Estuário do Tejo, the catch being that the signage you see along the trail only mentions the names of its components including, for example, the Trilho Averca/Póvoa de Santa Iria, the Trilho da Estaçao, and (simply) the Trilho do Tejo. Because there are several places along Caminhada where there are variant paths and because there’s a northern extension that’s just a painted lane along a road, it’s a little hard to say how long it is, but the length of what appears to be the main off-road path is a little more than 5 km.

The creation of the Caminhada is part of an attempt to restore at least some of the wetlands in the Tagus Estuary. Much of the right-of-way consists of low bridges with wooden planks.

Low wooden bridge over a wetland, part of the Caminhada na Zona Ribeirinha do Tejo. Note the unambiguously urban land in the background.

Elsewhere the path follows old dikes, again across wetlands.

Segment on an old dike, part of the Caminhada na Zona Ribeirinha.

The northern two-thirds of the path takes users through very open, apparently “natural” landscapes, but much of what appears as open land was once used for industry or agriculture.⁸ The path doesn’t look it, but it came to be the way it is through careful landscape manipulation. It’s definitely an urban (or at least suburban) path. Users are never out of sight of substantial buildings, and the Azambuja suburban railroad line provides easy access with reasonably frequent service. 

It would seem like a good idea to join the three paths along the Tagus, but, except for the stretch between Cais do Sodré and Santa Apolónia, I don’t believe that there are serious plans to deal with this issue in the near future.⁹ Much of the intervening land is still used for industry, and major highways make some of this area unattractive for pedestrian use. There are bicycle lanes (mostly protected) almost all the way between the Baixa and the Parque das Nações, and the parallel highway here does have a sidewalk, but the latter is a discouraging place to walk, with long distances, huge amounts of nearby traffic, and not much to see (I tried). 

The key point though is that Lisbon has joined northern European cities in attempting to push back in at least small ways against automobile hegemony. It hasn’t had the resources to do this on a large scale, and it hasn’t been very successful at finishing projects—or branding them in ways that clearly advertise their existence–but it has nonetheless created some impressive new pedestrian and bicycling facilities that attract numerous users.