Day 69. Thursday 15 May.

Departed early – no surprise there – to make sure we were at Pinhão in good time for our 1045, two hour rabelo trip. We were, so much so that there was ample parking: spoiled for choice! Took a short wander: like lots of places, there were tile dioramas, these were at the railway station (which was disgorging tourists).

Had a coffee, and for the first time the order was delivered as we’d thought we’d ordered it: two espressos and a side glass of hot water.

To the fairly short queue for the boat at Magnifico Douro, with everyone waiting in line patiently. A group of school kids got on a boat – huge sigh of relief from everyone else (they were not on our boat) – and we were told our turn would come. Not good enough for one couple who bypassed the queue and walked the gang plank. They were sent back to wait. They will reappear later in this tale.

Boarded and the boat departed. The scenery really was magnifico. We had a commentary downloaded at home: a total of four items on the way up, none on the way back, which on reflection was probably enough. Several significant vineyards were described, with their acreages, history, annual turnover etc etc. Port was a big component: D recalled, although a bit hazy, that he and his Army colleagues had contributed to the success of the industry at various formal Dining-In Nights. T was pleased that one in particular was ‘ respectful to the grapes’ using only gravity to move the grape juice from high point to low. Machinery did not tarnish the natural  processes and the accompanying house design was on 5 levels also focusing on ‘eco’ practices. T& D commented that they too are respectful of wine and use appropriate gravity practice.

The boat was not full, so quite comfortable. We sat on the bow, along with half a dozen Americans who did not stop talking the whole time, but who were inclusive enough to talk sufficiently loudly, but not excessively so, to share their views, life histories, COVID, travel in Business Class (or not) and the upcoming wedding…..and some other topics.

At the turn around point the aforementioned thrusters got off the boat and eventually into a plastic kayak that had been carried on the roof. It was obvious fairly quickly that they were not experienced: they were seated in the kayak on a ramp, then the boat crew pushed them into the fast flowing river.

They ducked the wharf to keep their heads on, then the current got them, swinging them around. Things were not right; ‘It’s taking in water’ the woman cried.  The rabelo crew were non-plussed; the kayakers gained some semblance of control despite the kayak sitting very low in the water and got the kayak touching the ramp – the crew pulled them in and they struggled out.

‘The kayak leaks – I’m not spending three hours sopping wet in a leaking kayak’ the woman wailed. She was dripping and there was serious water in the kayak’s bottom and on hers. The design is with holes to let water in for stability, explained the crew. But the woman remained firm. So that was the end of that.

They rebounded and the rabelo set off at speed for the homeward journey, obviously needing to make up time. The crew privately confirmed as we left that the kayak was the sort that does in fact let water in through structural holes and the amount depends on the weight of the passengers. T recalled the delightful children’s story from 1982 Who Sank the Boat? In today’s case it was not the mouse.

Getting off was a bit rushed as we returned late (due to the kayak incident) and hampered in getting off by the next lot (very glammed) trying to get on, using the same narrow gangway.

We decided to escape Pinhao for lunch and randomly chose Sanfins do Douro,  a little town that had been signposted on our way in. A short trip, easy park, and the only option was a restaurant hosting a few old men and one woman. Asked for a menu and the lady behind the counter ran off. We then tried to communicate using Google translate but no response. A young man came out and asked ‘English?’ We didn’t clarify our superior status, just nodded and ordered a ham and cheese toasted sandwich to share plus a couple of zero alcohol beers. The order was sort of right, but palatable nonetheless.

Took a walk after lunch, visited, of course, the church, and noticed some unusual white cones on the hill but couldn’t work out what they were.

As we were about to head back to the car to return home a couple of old men beckoned us over. Every village seems to have groups of older men in caps sitting around in the middle of the day. Luisa had said yesterday that the villages are full of old men with nothing to do. We sat, said ‘Ola’ and ‘Bom Dia’ and using Google Translate asked what the cones were. They were mystified. D took off to take a photo: by the time he got back they’d worked out what T was talking about, having initially shaken their heads (something of a record) – they were capellas, and were accessible by road. One of the elderly gentlemen hurried off to find his phone and returned to display an image showing the route.

Off we went to check out the capellas. They were locked, but seem to be part of a route recognizing the twelve stations of the cross, which were signposted every couple of hundred metres along the road. It was cobblestone, and steep and winding, not much fun to carry the monstrance (probably the one we saw in the church, which was actually lighter than some we’d seen). But the view across the valleys from up there was terrific: our little cameras can’t do it justice.

Home via Intermarche to find that the detached flat under us was now occupied by an Austrian couple on a motorcycle. D parked in our designated spot, quite put out by the unexpected company, and hauled in some of the shopping. T followed, and told D that we have been asked to move the car as it was blocking their light  and they had nowhere to sit outside – we think they meant no view (which, to be fair, it was). T said she would speak with her husband. The guy then turned up at our door and abruptly repeated the request, but just walked away when D tried to explain. D walked around, politely explained that this was, we thought, our designated onsite parking, but we understood their concern; meanwhile T had sent a WhatsApp to our hosts, asking for advice. D and the bikers agreeably worked out a solution that satisfied us both. Luisa and Mario then  arrived as they started to do so with yet another very acceptable solution, so now everyone was happy and it was almost wine o’clock. Actually, the bikers were already into the red!

What we hadn’t understood was that the building actually houses two separate but interconnecting accommodations that can be rented separately or as one. So we now have neighbours (first time since the Madrid apartment) for tonight. 

Dinner. Trish Fish Curry: white fish (of some sort), red curry paste, ginger, tomato, potato, carrot, coconut cream, secret ingredients.