Onwards and upwards

I woke up at six having slept fitfully, with the background noise of two ships moored alongside as the erratic sound track to a night's sleep. Then we were on the move again, but I dozed for another hour before opening the curtains. We were in a narrow gorge with turbulent water, surrounded by giant slabs of schist reaching above us. One of the slabs I noticed has a human head carved on it.

At seven thirty we entered the Valeira lock with 33 metre ascent. I got up and made my way to the front lounge, as the sun deck was closed for transit. Not only were the ship's masts laid flat, but also the ship's wheel house had to be partly collapsed to squeeze under the bridge over the hydroelectric barrage. I saw the captain open a hatch above his head and stand up at the wheel to see ahead, popping up and down like a jack in the box, too fast to catch on camera! There was barely a hands width between the top of the wheelhouse and the bridge it passed under. 

We entered a high sided natural basin where the river took a left turn into another high sided valley. Just then the sun appeared above the ridge. Fish were jumping alongside the ship, both in the lock and in the basin beyond. A scent of liquorice in the hazy morning air. Wonderful.

Then breakfast in a busy dining room, full of people sharing travellers tales. The internet was down, and when it return it ran very slowly. Good connectivity can disappear in mountainous areas where cellular reception, even for the ships powerful antennae, can be patchy.

We reached a railway bridge crossing in a wide stretch of river meeting another Riviera ship going downstream, and moved very slowly for about fifteen minutes. The navigators probably know that normal speed cannot be sustained when passing in certain locations without the ships being disturbed by each other's wake. It meant we were half an hour late arriving at Pocinho lock 22 metres high. The air is still, so haze from wildfires hangs in the air, though the smell of smoke is diminished. There was little wind, so the early morning haze over the river was as much residual wild fire smoke as it was mist, and not dispersing quickly. Not a momentous day for photography, except to record the disturbing impact of global heating our environment. 

We docked at a river port called Vega de Turron, a gateway for regional tourism in the Upper Douro region. Many of the Douro cruise ships stop here overnight. It's just across the Spanish border. You can see Portugal on the opposite bank of a tributary river which marks the border at this place.

We opted to be served lunch in the ship's restaurant today, and had a cooked meal neither of us really needed given that there'll be another five course dinner this evening. Clare had fish, I had piri-piri chicken and chips, and wasn't impressed. On the other hand, having fresh fruit for pudding does make it possible to digest. Lots of protein and fruit seems to suit me at the moment.

At half past two we were taken up into the mountains on the west side of the river to visit an ancient hill village called Castle Rodrigo, three quarters of an hour's drive from the ship up a road which took us up three hundred metres above the river on a constantly winding narrow road, lined with vineyards, olive groves and almond trees, patterning the landscape in beautifully varied ways. At the end of the climb we reached a rolling plain, similarly farmed but with expanses of rocky heathland. The range of colours in this different landscape was of itself a source of delight to see.

The village had once been a strategic border town between the kingdom of Leon and Portugal, until it lost its political significance. The citizens took it upon them selves to destroy the palatial castle and all that remains of it now are the ruins you can see. The 14th century church is unusually dedicated to Our Lady of Rocamadour, a reminder of the establishment of the church by a French religious order back in the day for whom the Provencal town of Rocamadour was home base. It was a key location on the pilgrimage route to Santiago de Compostela from France back in the day. It was a small place, just right for a short visit for a group of elderly tourists, a place you can buy locally made products, almond sweets, olive oil, wine, products crafted out of cork grown in this region. If the temperature hadn't been 39C, it would have been a pleasant outing, more than it was an endurance test in the heat for some at least. We were back at the ship in need of a shower and cooling drinks by half past five.

At seven, another gourmet feast with a new selection of excellent red and white wines. It's not been possible to get more than half my usual amount of exercise this past few days, and I certainly paid for it this evening, with a terrible sharp pain in my right ankle, symptomatic of leg muscles not getting enough of a warm up and stretching with so much sitting and not enough distance walked. There was a quiz after supper. We went straight to our rooms, having had enough experience for one day, and needing an early night. Tomorrow a dreadfully early start for Salamanca at eight fifteen. Heaven help us!

We received a briefing about today's visit to the mediaeval hill town of Castel Rodrigo, and a second one about Sunday's visit to Salamanca, which centres on the Plaza Major and the Cathedral fortunately. The down side is an hour and three quarters coach journey both ways, starting at eight fifteen. 

Smoke gets in your eyes

Neither of us slept well after such an unusual travel day, less than five hours for me. No chance of a lie-in when the ship began to manoeuver at six forty five, and start its inland journey up the Douro. Early on, the sky was clear, but became hazy, then ominously cloudy as we passed by places where wildfires are being fought on hillsides many miles away.  Breakfast at eight was a feast of choices, cooked, cold meats, fruit and cereals. At a steady ten miles an hour on an incredible winding river, it was difficult to establish at first which direction we were travelling in, and I felt quite disoriented. My smartphone map was hardly useful, as the GPS signal bounced back and forth in the urbanised area, just occasionally on the river. Soon after breakfast, away from the conurbation with steep woodland on either side, our progress on the map became more obvious.

Our first stop was for Crestuma lock, the first of three hydroelectric barrages to mount this day, a mere 14 metres, just after we'd finished breakfast. The Patricia the cruise director gave us the maritime health and safety briefing, and introduced the schedule for the day. Then a stop for the second Carrapatelo lock, an awesome giant, one of the largest in Western Europe, with an ascent of 35 metres. It's difficult to describe the impact of this, with huge doors opening upwards into a vast void dripping with water. As we waited, several swifts were circulating casually, foraging for insects above and below top deck level. After the ascension, the sun deck was closed to passengers as the vessel's superstructure had to be flattened to pass through the exit portal, given its size. The barrage was built in the sixties when river vessels weren't quite as large as now.

Then we passed for an hour before lunch along a stretch of river where the sky filled with brown clouds of wildfire smoke. We got the stench and the smuts from a blaze many miles away, and saw two firefighting helicopters with buckets fly down and scoop up river water. The sun shone dark orange through smoke clouds above us at one stage. As we sat down to a light buffet lunch, I spotted an osprey circling over the river, stooping to take a fish, unsuccessfully. Two of them, apparently, but we soon passed their fishing spot. As we approached the next barrage I spotted a colony of cormorants occupying an island and water nearby. A place rich with fish no doubt. Then I spotted two large herons on the move, confirming this as a potentially fruitful hunting ground for them too.

With a fruit and veg salad type lunch, I had two glasses with the meal, an interestingly flavoured bitter chocolatey red and a light lemony low impact white. Effectively, local house wines. We get to try the posh stuff at supper time. An hour later we went through the Bagauste lock, an ascent of 28 metres. That means we're now 77 metres, 245 feet higher than we were when we set out this morning. The temperature soared above 35C to 38C on an exposed mountainside when we visited the Quinta San Luis at tea time, for a guided tour of the winery, learning about how red and white port wines are made, with a tasting of both at the end. The winery is located about 150m above the river, with a long winding narrow approach road, handled with supreme confidence by a local coach driver. 

It was only 20C in the winery itself and 18C or less in the place behind where giant oak wine casks as tall as a two storey house stand like silent sentinels in the shadow of the mountain side. Fortified wines are an interesting and pleasant experience, definitely best with fruit or something savoury. Taken on their own, and without a water chaser doesn't do them justice. A couple of hours later, the taste of the aquavit added to halt fermentation, was still burning my tongue, when the distinctive flavour of the wine had departed. Not my sort of everyday drink really.

We descended from the winery to the A222 riverside main road to Pinaho. Our ship went ahead to its planned berth for the night on the quayside by this village, described as being at the heart of the Douro. There's a train that runs the length of the valley, and I glimpsed it passing through as we were about to embark, but too quickly to take a photo. Clare was keen to cool down with dip in the ship's tiny swimming pool. It wasn't really deep enough for a swim however. It's really there for people to go and sit in on a day as hot as this one. At least the wind blew away the smoke and we glimpsed the sky again.

Then a welcome session with a glass of incredibly dry white wine before supper, to introduce the entire staff and crew of MV Douro Elegance. I didn't count but there were about forty altogether I think. Then a gourmet five course meal showcasing the red and white wines of the region selected to go with the evening's meal. All together nicely balanced, although the slab of rare to medium beef we ended up with, went well with the wine, it a was twice as large as it needed to be, it took so long to eat.

I had a conversation at table with a Bristolian couple with a widowed sister, all of whom were Catholics, all of us of a similar age, and sharing the same experiences of growing up in a different world, grateful for what this taught us. A conversation full of appreciation and gratitude for our different experiences of life. There was entertainment in the lounge to follow, but after such enjoyable conviviality I needed to return to the cabin, upload photos and write, before turning in for the night, recharging my digital devices before re-charging myself with sleep. What an amazing day.