Stay Put or Keep Moving?

            "We aren’t ready for the cruise/group bus tour crowd, right?” I asked Art a few months ago. I knew the answer. We have always seen the world on our own so why stop now?  For our spring trip abroad we opted for Inntravel – The Slow Holiday People.  I love the slogan that translates into “self guided walking tours” all over Europe - going at your own pace.  We chose The Valley of Gold, a seven-day exploration of the Douro Valley in the north of Portugal, on foot, and by train.

            Memories of the walks are of red tiled roofs and white stucco houses; views from high up looking down on the gentle Douro River; a leisurely river boat cruising slowly along but otherwise a landscape empty of signs of humanity; the six car Douro train going along the river to the end of the line and back every few hours; bountiful wildflowers  - fields of orangey red poppies, yellow and white daisies scattered artistically among terraced grape vines, and tiny purple violets peeking up next to very old cobblestone paths; Queen Anne’s lace waving gracefully in the wind; blue paintbrush along the tarmac; large fig trees with pleasing scalloped leaves; rose bushes overflowing around simple country cottages; deep clear blue skies without a cloud, no haze or pollution: a profound emptiness of people against a background of actively chirping birds; silvery leaves of olive trees shimmering in a slight breeze; the abundance of orange, lemon and tangerine trees dripping with unpicked fruit.  Few signs of movement, except in nature around us, a profound sense of peace far from the turmoil of world crises.  Smells of fragrant roses and overripe fruit, mixed with clean air that makes you want to store up plentiful gulps; an occasional whiff of gasoline if passing a tractor working in the vineyards, but too high up to catch the musky odor that comes from river banks. 

            Amongst the many travel notes from Inntravel is a gem of several passages written by a British traveler in the 1930’s coming to spend a holiday on the Symington’s Quinta do Vesuvio – the spot where our walking tour began.  We are walking again.  There seems to be no roads in this part of Portugal…it’s warm, marching straight up this mountain with no road and with nothing that in England we should even call a path.  As I climb higher and can see better, this strikes me as the country of a traveler’s dream…” Not much has changed since then.

            We learned that choosing a slow but well organized walking trip has some  surprising benefits.  It not only exercises the body but also the mind – an aspect we had not thought about.  We spent many weeks pushed ourselves out of our “comfort zone” to explore new and more challenging hiking areas around Asheville. I wanted to make sure I was in shape and could handle the daily walking. The further we went on daily hikes and the steeper we climbed, the better we felt and the more we liked it. Our map reading skills could have been sharper as we started with only a vague understanding of distances given in meters and kilometers.  (Inntravel is a UK based travel agency.)  Now I can say we have a clear sense of how far a kilometer is and how far 50m down the road takes us.

            Inntravel sent walking instructions and descriptive notes in an official looking, 72-page, 7” x 10” black loose leaf notebook prior to leaving for Portugal.  Daily directions read like a treasure hunt.  Each day we would slip out the pages for our journey transferring them into a convenient plastic sleeve and into one of our daypacks along with picnic lunches prepared by the hotel we were just leaving. We also tucked in emergency phone numbers in case we got lost.   Notes would read:

1.     Turn L out of hotel and after 100m turn L again onto Rua da Calçada

2.     150m later, as the main cobbled road bears off to the L. take a narrow cobbled track heading downhill to the R.  At the corner of the J, you can see a barrel used for crushing grapes.

3.     Stay on the cobbled track as it becomes a narrow dirt path, overgrown in parts, and continues ahead along the level of the terrace.  Ignore all turnings off this track until you reach a building in ruins 600m later at which point the path forks.  Turn L downhill.

We learned to interpret the abbreviations but as we walked we kept each other alert to every landmark around us.  “Is that the building in ruins, do you think? “ I might ask Art.  If in doubt one of us would venture down the fork to see if it felt right before we set off in a wrong direction.  The further we went out of a village, the fewer people we saw, and the more attention we paid to making sure we were on the right path. Following landmarks and not a GPS was part of the adventure.

            The first introduction to the Douro Valley was on the train from Porto heading inland, east towards the Douro Valley. We were glued to the large picture windows sitting on the right hand side close to the river, as our notes had advised. One of the more breathtaking train rides in Europe, the train follows precisely the perimeter of the riverbank coming only a very few feet from the edge. To me it seemed a wonder of modern engineering as I tried to imagine workers straddling the steep hills to put in just one set of tracks when this line was built in 1993.  There is only one track and when the train reaches Pocinho, the end of the line, it turns around to make the journey back.  The train goes beyond where the highway stops and in order to see the most remote and beautiful parts of the Douro you must go by train.  Steep hills and rock formations rise from the riverbank reminding me of fjords in Norway or the dramatic cliffs along the ocean in the Gulf of Oman.

We were the only passengers to alight at the train stop in Vesuvio where we were met by Dolcinera (Sra. de Ribeira) and her son, Imanuel, and ferried across the river with our luggage in a small motorboat to begin our stay in the Douro Valley.  Alighting in Vesuvio in the late afternoon on a hot sunny day I was struck by the complete silence with only the faint echo of the departing train reverberating down the track.  Standing on the tiny railroad platform we gasped at the luscious landscape. All we could see was the river just below us, hills with neat terraces all around us, and a handful of whitewashed houses.  No people in sight except for our hosts.  Birds sang, the bright sun began to sink behind the hills and our immersion in the Douro Valley began.

Each day was different as we followed the arranged itinerary. We were met  at a station or crossroad in a road exactly as stated in our Inntravel notebook, warmly greeted at each hotel along the way, ushered to our room where our bags we had left in the morning had magically been transported to where we were each evening.  After a day in the countryside on our own, rarely meeting anyone else, arriving at the hotel was exciting especially after a long shower, change of clothes and a small glass of port wine.  Dinner became evening entertainment as these country hotels served all guests around one big dining room table.  It felt like going to a dinner party every night with guests we had not met before. A three-course gourmet dinner starting at 8 p.m. accompanied lively conversation with travelers of all nationalities that were our tablemates – Germans, Swiss, British, Australians and very occasionally other Americans.

 Each day we discovered a more charming guesthouse or hotel than the last.  Casa de Casal de Loivos, we were told was built in 1658 by the Sampaio family, sits high above the Douro River with spectacular views, and is now an elegant hotel with a small number of exclusive rooms. Casa de Vilarinho de São Romão, a renovated Manor House with six guest rooms, extensive grounds of vineyards with a swimming pool, is owned and operated by Cristina Van Zeller who comes from a well known Portuguese family of wine growers.  Cristina told us that her property was the first place potatoes were planted in all of Portugal after they were brought by explorers to the “New World”.  Next to the manor house is a Chapel built in 1462.  We won’t forget picking juicy red cherries and eating them from the enormous cherry trees down by the swimming pool. 

Casa de Visconde de Chanceleiros is a spectacular nobleman’s house run by Ursula who is originally German and can converse in at least five languages.  Here we found a large swimming pool surrounded by every imaginable flowering tree and bush, a squash court and even a hot tub. Our dinner was served on a glassed in terrace high above the valley with 180-degree views.  This was our last stop where we luxuriated for two nights.   Chanceleiros is a mere 4 km walk, all downhill, to the large town of Pinhero, along a windy steep road minus guard rails. It looked way to scary to drive.

Since coming home we’ve been asked often if we managed all the daily hikes perfectly.  We could say yes and leave it at that.  But we didn’t.  The morning we set out from Casa São Romão, the old manor house, Day 5, we had a 14 km walk ahead of us.  It dawned unusually hot and sunny true to the forecast and heat wave that was engulfing Spain and Portugal that week.  We walked easily through Villarinho de São Romão. Just outside the village we took a wrong turn, walked back, reread directions several times and were stumped.  I spotted a few laborers on one of the terraces nearby working in the vineyards. Pulling out my best Portuguese which came out more in Spanish I asked directions. These men pointed one way and a woman nearby told us to go another, as it would be “muito más facil”.  Of course we took the “más facil” way and were lost again.  It was growing hotter and predicted to be 90.  We turned around and walked back to the manor house.  Cristina was surprised to see us but we asked if she could call a taxi to take us part way to Chanceleiros. 

Within 20 minutes a friendly taxi driver showed up and we explained in a mixture of Spanish and French (he had lived in France) where we wanted to go.  As we sailed along by car on the windy roads that are the norm in this part of the world the taxi driver suddenly came out into a clearing, stopped for a few minutes and pointed up a steep hill, no trees, wide open to the hot sun and said “that is the route you will walk to Chanceleiros”.  He looked at us and said “do you really want to do that?”  “Il fait tres chaud…” and it was getting terribly hot. To me it looked more daunting than anything we had encountered till then.  It was a quick moment when we decided to abort the walk and go on to Chanceleiros and the final hotel where we relaxed around the swimming pool for the afternoon taking in the views.  We could do what we liked and yet I am still puzzling over how we missed that one path on Day 5. I would like to go back and find it!

Since coming home we have a glass of port each evening and think about the Douro Valley, a peaceful and luscious part of the world that has produced famous port wines since the 1750’s.  Cold and rainy in the winter and hot and dry in the summer creates the ideal growing environment for tiny dark grapes that make the port.  Grown on terraces for centuries and harvested in the fall, some are even stomped on by foot to maintain the traditions of a long wine making history. 

 Most important of all, we have not put away our hiking shoes! We have a new love - hiking. Along with the memories of our trip, we are enjoying more vigorous walks than ever before in preparation for our next walking trip…maybe next spring?