History and origin of the pilgrimage of agony

As August approaches, Viana do Castelo changes its rhythm. The streets fill with colorful quilts hanging in the windows, the sound of drums and bagpipes sets the pace, the smell of grilled sardines intersects with the scent of flowers adorning the float. The Lima estuary is covered in decorated boats, the sanctuary bells ring out relentlessly, and for a moment, all of Alto Minho converges on a single place of memory and faith. It is at this intersection of sea and land, of devotion and celebration, that the Agonia pilgrimage has created a singular identity.

What began as a humble vow by seafarers has become one of the greatest highlights of the Portuguese cultural calendar. It's not just an event, but an annual ritual that brings together velvet cloaks, lace-like gold, and salt colored with the hardness of the sandbar and the hope of those setting out to work. Understanding its origins helps us interpret its rites, and this interpretation takes on new nuances when we place it in the right time, alongside the transformations of Viana, Minho, and the country as a whole.

The story is more complex than it seems at first glance. And it continues to be written.

How devotion to Our Lady of Agony was born

The Marian invocation to Our Lady of Agony appears in Viana associated with the anguish of extreme moments. Agony is not just pain, it is an inner struggle, the boundary between fear and trust. For maritime communities, this boundary often involved crossing the bar, stormy nights, and the return that was not always possible.

Tradition points to the 18th century as a decisive period. It was when devotion took hold, when the shrine rose on the gentle hill that guarded the harbor, and when the festival gained a date. The landscape helped: in front, the estuary with its shifting glow; to the north and south, the open coast; behind, the urban fabric that grew with transatlantic trade, wine, linen, and shipbuilding. A chapel became a sanctuary, the image took on its own shape, and the pilgrimage arose from the need to give thanks and ask for protection.

Fishermen and sailors, accustomed to making promises, were probably the first to organize simple processions, with candles, prayers, and small votive offerings. The devotion took hold because it responded to a concrete experience, life on the edge, and at the same time offered a place of support, a home to return to.

Viana do Castelo, Lima and the Atlantic

Any account of the pilgrimage's origins must consider the territory. Viana is a city shaped by the sea. The Lima River, with its capricious mouth, has always demanded skill and courage. The local economy depended on the port, fishing, and connections with the Minho hinterland, which produced cereals, vinho verde, and textiles. The steep streets and squares welcomed sailors, merchants, artisans, and farmers, and public life was organized around brotherhoods, confraternities, and religious festivals.

The cult of Our Lady of Agony fits into this mosaic. Her image, placed in a sanctuary overlooking the sea, legitimized a direct relationship between the sacred and the daily work of devotees. It's not a distant cult; it's a devotion that reads the horizon and the weather. When the fog rolled in, when the wind blew from the southeast, the lit candle and the prayer to Our Lady had as much practical as spiritual meaning.

It's also this geography that explains the shift from individual vows to communal celebrations. A port thrives on nets, not just fishing nets. The pilgrimage lit these nets and expanded them.

From the seafarers' vote to the people's party

Throughout the 19th century, the festival of Our Lady of Agony took on new dimensions. There are reports of well-formed processions, with banners, floats, and the participation of various professions. The fair joins, street vendors arrive, and festivals and dances are organized. The city welcomes pilgrims from neighboring municipalities, who take advantage of the occasion to exchange goods, see family, and fulfill promises.

The calendar helps. August is harvest time and a vacation from the high seas for part of the community. The days are long, the sea is generally calmer, emigrants return, and Viana becomes a stage for reunions. The core of the festival remains religious, but a popular, festive layer grows, adding color, sound, and movement to the city.

In this passage, the pilgrimage maintains two loyalties. One, to the oldest rites—the solemn mass, the procession, the candles, the votive offerings. The other, to the joy of the streets, the drums and giant drums, the stalls, the fireworks. Both nourish and dialogue with each other.

The dates that shaped tradition

Not all timelines are written in stone, and some dates vary depending on the source. Still, there are recognizable milestones that help interpret the pilgrimage's growth.

Period	Main landmark	Notes
18th century	Establishment of worship and construction of the sanctuary	Devotion gains its own place and identity
19th century	Structured processions and popular fair	Consolidation of the community character
Early 20th century	Strengthening worship and sanctuary	The image gathers great devotion
Mid-20th century	Codification of processions and focus on costume and gold	Consolidation of the stewardship parade
Second half of the 20th century	Procession to the sea and river gains centrality	The blessing of the vessels becomes a strong image
21st Century	Patrimonialization and internationalization	Tourism, media and dense cultural programming

The table says little without the details. What matters is understanding how the association with maritime life has never been lost and how the city has managed to integrate new languages, keeping the heart of the festival in the right place.

The procession to the sea and the rituals of August

Among the many rites, there is one that has captured the attention of all of Portugal. The procession to the sea carries the image of Our Lady to the piers, where she embarks to bless the estuary, the bar, the fishing gear, and all who live from the ocean. The boats, adorned with flowers, flags, and quilts, form a river procession, the vessels' sirens echo, and the fishermen raise their hands in greeting.

Before this departure, the city prepares the way. Salt carpets, made overnight by teams who master the technique, transform streets into ephemeral canvases. The colors are intense, the designs blend Marian, maritime, and Minho motifs. Passersby hurry to avoid stepping on them.

The solemn procession, which winds through the urban area, features brotherhoods, clergy, scouts, authorities, and professional associations. The main float is accompanied by promise-makers, some barefoot, carrying model boats, nets, buoys, or filigree hearts engraved with graces received. Faith here is physical, carried in the hands and shoulders.

Other rites make up the picture:

• Open-air mass in the sanctuary courtyard, with choral singing and massive participation
• Blessing of fishermen and boats in the estuary
• Auctions of offerings, often linked to the sea and land
• Candles and ex-votos placed inside the sanctuary, forming a collective memory

All of this runs parallel to the festivals that stretch into the night. Fireworks create choreographies in the sky over Lima, lending a luminous dimension to the devotion.

Outfits, gold and perks

No image speaks more of Viana than its costume. The pilgrimage is the occasion when the Viana costume and the costumes of Minho take to the streets in force. Thick fabric, full skirts, embroidered aprons, brightly contrasting scarves, patterned stockings, polished black shoes. Layered gold, made of ribbons, shackles, chains, medals, and the famous hearts.

Viana's filigree heart has become a symbol. It's not just an ornament. It carries emotional depth, acquired gradually over a lifetime, representing key family moments, a legacy and a promise. In the stewardship parade, hundreds of women, organized by the parishes, parade in costumes and gold, each in a unique combination that follows rules of taste and tradition, but always with a personal touch.

There are several categories of attire, each with its own occasion:

• Working laundress
• Sunday farmer
• Butler
• Bride
• Half-mourning and mourning
• Costumes from other municipalities in Minho, with variations in color and embroidery

Stewardship isn't just about standing in front in dresses and gold. It's a structure of organization, volunteerism, and responsibility that spends months preparing the calendar, raising funds, liaising with the parish and city hall, and ensuring the continuity of the ritual.

Gigantones, big heads, bass drums and rusgas

The celebration grows beyond the sanctuary. The giants and big-headed people, with long legs and oversized faces, cross squares and alleys, leading the way with rhythmic steps. The deep rumble of bass drums sets a contagious cadence. There are rallies that crisscross the city late into the night, with accordions and songs, in a joy that is renewed year after year.

The salt carpets, mentioned above, offer a highly impactful, ephemeral aesthetic. The technique is passed down from generation to generation, the palette changes from street to street, and the design reflects the artist's and the neighborhood's influence. These works are born in the silence of the night and faded with the movement of the pilgrimage, giving them a unique charm.

Among the fairs, the craft fair has gained a reputation. Filigree, embroidery, scarves, woodwork, ceramics, basketwork—all coexist in a living catalog of Minho's material culture. This exposure to handcrafting has an economic dimension, but it also serves as a school and a platform for transmission.

The role of institutions and the impulse of the 20th century

In the 20th century, the pilgrimage gained national prominence. Local, parish, and municipal associations, along with the country's cultural context, reinforced a taste for what was considered popular and regional. In Viana, this translated into historical-ethnographic processions, the careful organization of the festive calendar, posters, programs, and the definition of themes that remain.

Costumes and gold, for example, begin to have their own special moment, almost museum-like, without losing their religious connection. The procession to the sea becomes a confirmed brand image. Parallel events multiply: window display competitions, exhibitions, musicians' gatherings, and gastronomic tastings. Communication grows, the city receives more visitors, and the pilgrimage becomes Viana do Castelo's strongest calling card.

There's a healthy tension here between living heritage and spectacle. The pilgrimage has learned to open doors without losing its home.

The sanctuary and the place of promise

Let's return to the sanctuary, because that's where the heart of the place lies. The church, visible from many parts of the city, concentrates layers of devotion. Ex-votos lining the walls and rooms tell of shipwrecks avoided, illnesses overcome, returns from emigration, and long-awaited births. They include naive paintings, old photographs, model boats, crutches left behind, and candles with names and dates.

The architecture blends elements from different eras, with stone housing altarpieces, tiles, and carvings that interact with the Atlantic light. The churchyard is a place of encounters, and the interior, a place of populated silence. Those who arrive outside of August always find signs of a pilgrimage. There are promises that know no calendar.

Economy, city and social impact

A festival of this magnitude has effects that can be measured in many areas. The economic impact is evident. Hotels, restaurants, local businesses, artisans, and fishermen enjoying tours of the estuary all benefit from the concentration of people. The city is experimenting with welcoming methods that value its best, from gastronomy to guided tours of the historic center and the Gil Eannes ship.

On a social level, the pilgrimage strengthens neighborhood networks, creates collaborative routines, and gives many a place to belong. Elderly people pass on sewing, embroidery, and costume repair skills to young stewards; teams teach salt carpet making; young musicians learn old-fashioned folk songs. Legacy is made with hands and memories.

Authenticity, safeguarding and the near future

With popularity comes a recurring challenge: maintaining the religious and community core where it has always been, at the center. Safeguarding intangible heritage requires choices. Planning the festival with respect for the rites, caring for the sanctuary and its collection, valuing craftsmanship without turning it into a caricature, protecting procession routes, and paying attention to the environmental impact of major events.

There are already visible steps:

• Mobility plans that reduce car traffic in sensitive areas
• Clear timetables and maps for the movement of processions, with accessible signage
• Educational projects in schools on costume, filigree and traditional music
• Encouraging sustainable materials in carpets and street decoration
• Collection and recycling campaigns during pilgrimage days

All of this serves a central idea. The pilgrimage thrives on the encounter between faith and the city. What we ask of organizers, institutions, and pilgrims is that they make this gathering a home for everyone.

What's left when the party's over

When the final firework piece ends and the final accordion chords fade away, Viana returns to his usual cadence. In the sanctuary, the candles continue to burn. The stewards put away the costumes, the gold returns to the safe, the salt carpets disappear with water and a broom. But more than the trace of a great celebration remains.

What remains is the grammar of a community that learned to express faith in the Minho language. What remains is the care taken with what was received from those who came before and what they want to pass on to those who follow. The landscape remains, because the sanctuary, the river, and the sea remain in the same place, silent witnesses to a history that still has chapters to be written.

And there remains a quiet certainty. Next August, when the bells ring, the city will fill up again. With promises, gold, and salt. With faces from everywhere, and, at the center, Our Lady of Agony, who gave rise to it all.