Some places aren't photographed - they're lived with your heart in your throat. Fuciño do Porco, the viewpoint at the top of Punta Socastro in Galicia, northern Spain, is exactly that. The last hundred or so wooden steps coil over the sea like a narrow path hung on the rock face itself, and underfoot - nothing but the Atlantic.

The locals gave it its unusual name, which translates as "pig's snout", after the shape of the cape seen from the sea. You reach the viewpoint after about twenty minutes' walk through a eucalyptus forest, until the path opens onto that dramatic stretch over the water that isn't for those with a weak stomach for heights. From the platform you can see the islands of Gabeira, Insua and Coelleira, and in the distance the Estaca de Bares headland.

The place isn't just beautiful - it's heavy with history. The 54-metre-high cape once held a pre-Roman fortified settlement, and an iron mine also operated here, supplying the famous Sargadelos factory with ore carried by boat. The stone still bears the marks of the iron extraction.

And then there's the legend that gives the landscape its soul. According to local lore, 35 Templars were massacred on the nearby island of San Miguel in the 14th century. The monks rang the alarm as the attackers entered the monastery; one survivor reportedly fled in a leather boat and hid in a house the locals still call "Casa do Paisano". When a single place gathers the sea, ancient mines and medieval blood on the same cape, a postcard becomes too little - it asks to be visited.