Stepping it up along the Douro
The Douro Valley in Autumn
The Oldies couldn’t leave Porto before going to see the mouth of the Douro estuary. I had no objections to that! After the languid movement of the river the previous few days, it was wonderful to see waves crashing against the harbour walls at Foz do Douro harbour and along the coast at Matosinhos.
Then off we set to drive along the River Douro. Only we couldn’t. Or at least only in parts. The Oldies hadn’t banked on the steep banks! The topography means that the road can rarely run alongside the river, so we only got the occasional glimpse. I almost fell off my perch with shock when I heard Her Ladyship conceding that the best way to explore the area might well be by boat.
With evening closing in, the Oldies decided to head for Lamego, a large town south of the river. The route His Lordship chose led us up a narrow road across the mountain, rather than around it. This was the high point of the day – in every sense. It was hilarious hearing Her Ladyship shrieking in fright as we progressed up the ever narrower, ever steeper road. When we finally reached the highest point, the views from the Miradouro da Senhora São Martinho de Mouros were worth all the palaver. And, sure, we survived, didn’t we? Someone was watching over us I think.
Settling into Lamego for the night was a bit of a shock to the system after the warm, sunny weather we’d had in Lisbon and Porto. At an altitude of about 550 m above sea level, we could as well have been in Austria. The road signs warning of on-coming snow ploughs and the need for snow chains – and the lack of central heating in our accommodation – were rather disconcerting. I don’t think I’d fancy being here in the depths of winter!
We set out again the next day, still on our quest for the elusive River Douro. I was quite surprised how heavily populated this area is, in spite of the difficult terrain. I was also shocked at the amount of litter lying about. I’m the first to admit that we gulls can be a bit messy at times and tend to drop things around the place, but you humans really take the biscuit on that front!
It was quite some time before we hit a road that ran alongside the river. But when we finally did, all those Douro Valley clichés suddenly came true. It is picture postcard stunning. The beautiful, slow moving river wending its way through the steep valley, port wine quintas (estates) at every turn, the steep terraces ablaze with autumnal colour.
We soon realised that the terraces were planted not only with vines, but also with olive, orange and almond trees. I noticed that the orange groves in particular are often protected by high walls, some, apparently, up to 8 m high. This area may well be a goldmine for the estate owners nowadays, but their ancestors certainly had to put in enormous work to get this inhospitable terrain to produce in the first place.
Like the cruise ships puttering along the river beside us, we also stopped off for a break in the picturesque village of Pinhão.
This has got to be one of the quaintest railway stations I have ever seen. Her Ladyship was tickled pink to see a wine shop in the train station. There can’t be too many of those in Ireland. The village itself, in this idyllic location directly on the river and set into the terraced hills, is particularly attractive along the riverbank. The further into town we went, however, I noticed that a large number of houses were either badly neglected or completely derelict.
Here’s a ruin with a view, for example. It obviously survived the flood of January 1962 which must have been quite something. This is a second floor window of a house several metres above the river bank. Sadly, all that is left of it today is the façade. Still suffering, by the looks of it, from the effects of that rising damp.
Naturally, the Oldies had to stop off for a coffee, and the friendly café owner unlocked his family’s private port wine collection for them. Just for a look, not a taste, to His Lordship’s chagrin. Our host told us that five generations of his family have been collecting port and that they have tens of thousands of bottles at this stage. They had dynamited out this homemade ‘cave’ from the solid rock and drilled holes in the walls to store the most precious bottles. Apparently they only drink port a couple of times a year, and only on special occasions. ‘It is a drink of celebration’, he said. With a collection that size, I reckon they will be celebrating for generations to come.
Lamego is a highly interesting town. For a start, I was surprised to see such a large town (the population is over 26,000) in such a high location. It must have been of great strategic importance in the past and the number of outstanding historic buildings – the numerous chapels, cathedral, museum and castle – are testament to this. But there is one building that stands out above all of these. Literally. The 18th century Shrine of Our Lady of Remedies is perched high above the town, with an incredibly long and ornate stone staircase leading up to it. The staircase alone apparently took over 100 years to complete.
Knowing the creaky Oldies as I do, I was afraid that it would take them 100 years to climb it. Incredibly, the Dynamic Duo managed it in a respectable time. Her Ladyship counted 618 steps, Himself, 623. For once, they agreed to disagree. Neither was inclined to do a recount. They were quite happy to linger at the top, admiring the beautiful shrine. And mopping their sweaty brows.
Halloween has come to Portugal! The Oldies spent all evening going from restaurant to restaurant in search of a table for two, only to be told time and again that they were booked out with Halloween parties. They struck lucky, would you believe, in a fruit and veg shop. They had ventured in having noticed a restaurant upstairs, but were again told it was completely booked out for yet another Halloween party. ‘But you can eat in the shop’, said the owner, pointing to a couple of tiny tables amongst the pineapples and cabbages. Apart from the rather unorthodox setting, it turned out to be a great meal. Fantastic value too, especially considering all the free samples they were given from the large platters of food that were being conveyed upstairs.
As we were leaving the next day, All Saints’ Day, Lamego was abuzz, with market stalls set up all around town and the locals dressed in their Sunday best. I noticed a large number of them making their way up to the cemetery via that famous staircase. And at an impressive pace too.
Now I know how they keep warm in winter.
