It felt incredibly indulgent: hopping from my cozy bed just long enough to toss the curtains open, then plunging back into the covers so I could sip coffee while watching the dramatic landscape of Portugal’s Douro Valley ease by the boat. Passing hillsides are carved with narrow terraces from 800 years ago, their singular purpose to provide level space in the impossibly vertical terrain for growing port wine grapes. The landscape looks woven and pleated, a textured view of the mountains as seen sparkling in the sunlight from the river.
We had a whole week on the Douro River, which seems to be marked by the contrast between trips to its historic shores and comforts of the easy, modern river passages.
Mountain climbs up and down restless switchback roads in extremely comfortable coaches led to wandering around in narrow, ancient streets so old you could hear the sigh of ages. You could put your shoes where others had walked wearing clanking armor and touch walls covered in hand-painted tiles centuries old.
Returning to the boat, life was filled with soothing movement along both narrow and wide parts of the peaceful river aboard s/v Hemming. The evening begins with cocktails, chatting about the day’s experiences, and news of tomorrow’s adventures from the brilliant program director, Alexandra. The organization of excursions is smoothly and professionally executed for a variety of activity level preferences and led by guides who make all transitions effortless.
Portugal may not be famous for its exotic cuisine, but Viking Hemming might be the oasis of inspired dining for all meals: luscious dinners in the handsome white linen dining room were exquisite (and frequently followed by live music and dancing in the lounge.
Our cabin was very comfortable for two, including a small living room where I tended to stretch out before dinner, pretending to read but actually just drifting with the passing scenery. The veranda off the sitting room became our pre-breakfast coffee nook while the French porch off the bedroom allowed us to open the sliding door and enjoy the warm evening breezes off the river at night without fear of taking an accidental swim.
We found ourselves in a new environment at every turn: from the vibrant twin cities of Porto and Gaia to venerable teeming universities; from ancient, whispering castles and fierce stone fortresses to small cozy towns of only a few farmhouses. Portugal is not a land of fences – most places, you can rest on a wall built during the Crusades or run your hands over the centuries-old carvings on a cathedral’s lintel. That removed, museum quality so frequent at historic sites is not here – instead, you can believe for a moment that you might have lived in this world.
And history abounds in Portugal. As it was not bombed during WWII, there are buildings still standing which were constructed in the 1400s. Time spent surrounded by these ancient beauties is time well spent. An afternoon at Castelo Rodrigo, for example, a fortress built in 1209, passed walking the shoulder-width granite cobbled paths and marveling at how much of this old stone place was still standing; more of it is being reconstructed by UNESCO.
The seemingly 100-mile view from the top made it easy to understand why this spot was chosen for the stone fortress some 800 years ago; how they built it, however, was much harder to imagine. Two churches, several homes and sheds all made of stone with narrow, winding streets between, a minaret, and a synagogue, all safely sheltered from invaders on top of this mountain, surrounded by endless stone wall. Quite a thing.
The modern Castelo Rodrigo has a few small shops selling local handmade sweaters and crafts, a tiny restaurant and café making sandwiches and pastries, and of course, the vendor offering a wide array of local port wines. All these are nestled in old stone structures that insist you duck to enter the doorways. Where there were hundreds of people here centuries ago, there remain only 16. While the restoration work progresses slowly, Castelo Rodrigo exudes charm and a sense of hand-built grace that you can feel in every stone you rest your fingers on.
Each day brought a new, magical experience. One evening found us boarding our coaches for a short ride to Convento de Alpendurada for dinner in the gothic vaulted cellars of a beautifully-kept monastery. The next morning’s late breakfast onboard turned into a race of sorts as a tiny, easter egg colored train chugged alongside the river.
Post-race, we visited Mateus Palace — that’s right, the one from the bottles of wine in which we all over-indulged during the 60s. It is still lived in by the same family that built it centuries ago and still guards the seemingly endless fields of grapes and flowers, formal and maze gardens. I found the reflecting pool I remembered from the bottle, still creating a magical illusion, perfect symmetry with occasional ripples.
The university town of Cuimbra was another highlight — this is the very town where J.K. Rowling studied and which served as the site for her Harry Potter’s magical school Hogwarts. Rowling was faithful in her depiction, right down to the hooded, floor-length black capes worn by the students. At one time, Cuimbra was the largest city in Portugal, until the cities of Porto and Gaia surpassed it as financial capitols, thanks to trade routes with China and South America.
Cuimbra is also famous for its unique brand of Fado, the Portuguese form of musical storytelling. Incredibly dramatic, Fado is almost like a one-person opera telling the story of love, loss or pride by highly revered singers, generally accompanied by one or two stringed instruments. This is very serious stuff to the performers, and in Cuimbra, the singers of Fado are akin to demigods.
The library at Cuimbra is divided into three segments on the subjects of Law, Medicine, and Natural Science & Astronomy. Impossibly tall tiers with more than 3,000 books each, accessed by rolling ladders, with sections painted in dark red, dark green or black and heavily trimmed in gold, each containing the world’s total knowledge of those three subjects on intricately carved shelves, gilded rails, and hard-carved wooden ladders – so invitingly beautiful you want to climb about and read them all.
Every day was filled with these adventures. From our start at Lisbon, where we walked the tiny, cobbled streets of Alfama (which remains an intimate community of families who have shared alleys so small you could practically shake hands with your neighbor across the street), to the old port of Belem where the wealthy merchants built enormous wooden fortresses after the devastating earthquake of the mid-1700s so they could watch their gold- and spice-laden ships come and go from the working harbor.
Port wine is an all consuming topic in Portugal, and they love their wines with a passion. We visited at least one winery each day, and sure enough as you went along you really did could discern the difference between the vineyards. Technically, in order to capitalize the “P” in Port Wine, it must come from the Douro Valley and have an alcohol content between 20-23 percent. Ruby Portos are not aged long, just 1-3 years. Tawny Portos can be aged for decades in huge wooden barrels while colors fade and sugars mellow. All are sweet though, and is meant to be enjoyed without further aging although an open bottle will stay tasty for up to a month due to its higher alcohol levels.
The Douro River trip is a peaceful one: once you get past the first lock, you travel from lake to lake with lazy elevator rides in the ship in between. The terrain is restless, lush, and dotted with farmhouses, vineyards, and small towns. The excursions are diverse and captivating, the staff professional. I am already looking forward to luxuriating on my next adventure on the river with Viking!
Viking River Cruises to the Douro River Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VQK9xpwmFa4#action=share
Clip from Upscale Living Magazine
Slideshow of the Meteus Palace: http://www.getportugal.com/en/poi-palacio-de-mateus-15281
Castelo Rodrigo: http://www.visitcentrodeportugal.com.pt/castelo-rodrigo/
Reviews of Portugal’s Port wines: http://wine.bestcovery.com/best-port-wines
SIDEBAR: Port Wines
Strange as it sounds, the sweet wine that we know as Port owes its popularity to the fact that the French and the British were squabbling in the 18th century, and the British blocked the French harbors to shipping which shut off french wine exports like a tap.
The British turned to Portugal for its requirement. The Portuguese began fortifying their wines with local brandy to raise the alcohol level so that the wine would not spoil as it was shipped in barrels to be bottled on site. This brandy stopped the fermentation leaving a higher sugar level than traditional wines, a sweeter taste and a higher alcohol level. Since it was shipped from the Douro River city of Oporto it became known as Port Wine.
There are three main types of port wine: White, Ruby and Tawny. White Ports are meant to be drunk young, although some of it does get aged. Ruby Port is barrel aged, also intended to be drunk while young and tend to have a more fruity flavor. Tawny Ports are aged in smaller barrels and have a tawny color.
Just because anything this rarefied could not possibly be so simple, there are dozens of sub categories to each of these type s including Vinho Verde, Vintage and LBV (Late Bottled Vintage).
While on the Viking Douro River cruise we visited a winery almost every day and sampled offerings from Burmester, Sanderman, Taylors and Croft as well as many blends. There is a very wide variety, really something for every palate. In addition, the portugese use these wines for desserts, as well as mixing lemon and seltzer with some which I found wonderful on a hot day.
We sailed to Soldiers Bay for the evening and there was nobody else around, just what we wanted. It had been a great day filled with coral and fish, paddling the kayak, and laced with excellent food. The moon performed again, and Alan gave us his night vision glasses. That is when we discovered that there is barely any space between the stars once you can see them all. The three cabins on Edruska are very comfortable, air conditioned and roomy, each with its own head & shower. Still, I slept on the fore deck cushions that night, because the sky was as big and bright as I had ever seen it. As I watched the stars emerge and listened to the gentle lapping at the hull, I felt like the luckiest woman in the universe. Being out in the air under the stars infuses your soul with a kind of poetry and connection to the islands.
The next morning began at a lazy pace. I woke to the inviting smell of coffee and cooking in the galley. My friends emerged at their own comfortable times. Breakfast was served on deck, enough for twice as many as we were, and lots of variety. Over the three-course breakfast we discussed the tans that we were acquiring, and I was elected to ask the question. I told Alan that I currently did not have any tan lines, and was hoping not to get any. He had heard this from guests before and said that he would simply announce himself before coming forward on deck. From then on, the forward cushions were known as Lido Beach and total tanning was on.
We met Michel, our captain aboard Nemo, when he came to pick us up at the covered bridge dock in Fare. After moving into our cabins and exploring the catamaran, the process of getting to know our fellow travelers began. We all had sailing and exploring new places in the world in common. There were twelve of us on board, but with a boat 83’ long and 30’ wide there was always space for gatherings small or large, and places to read quietly or work on a tan. Our cabins were tight but efficient, each with it’s own entrance and head. Life aboard had a comfortable rhythm as we explored these primordial islands. 
Our first dinner aboard Nemo was a delicious raw fish salad full of chopped raw vegetables and a salty sweet dressing, followed by Polynesian chicken marinated in coconut milk, and lots of wine. For dessert there was a mixed fruit compote with crème fraiche. Fabianne is Michel’s wife and is a very creative cook. She uses what ever is freshest of native produce to create beautiful and tasty feasts day after day from her tiny galley. 
I had never seen an atoll before, and did not understand the effect of a barrier reef. What it creates is a lagoon with a clockwise circular current surrounding the volcanic island in the center. Outside the ocean pounds against the barrier, with surf is made up of rolling curls as high as 30′. The luminous turquoise wave shatters into white spray with a continuous roar. There are only a few breaks in the barriers to each island. These are known as “passages” where the boats can pass through. The ride out of the passage at Huahine was calm, just a moderate swell actually. As you go through the passage you can look down the throat of this rolling curl, see the sunlight through it, and imagine what power it must have. There is that ever present sound of the ocean, like an animal roaring in frustration. 
Being the earliest riser among our group, the next morning I spent some time chatting in my rusty french with our captain and his wife. I learned that we were headed to a black pearl farm on Raiatea that day, We would travel inside the lagoon to Motu Tau Tau. Michel and Fabienne told me a bit about the black pearl farms in the region, describing the strings of oysters hanging in the water, the farmers checking on each oyster every day. I could envision the large black irregular shapes clinging to the silver strands twisting in the shining lagoon 30 feet down, quietly making dark pearls. I could picture the strong brown swimmers diving in the clear sunlit water with to tend the current crop.. 
We set out to the west and then north along the lagoon towards Raiatea which over time has come to share a barrier with Tahaa, creating in the end a figure 8 shaped lagoon. Cabin charter offers flexibility of schedule not possible on a cruise ship so Michele took a detour up a large inlet called Baie Hurepiti. He told us that it was a place where we could see the homes of fishermen on the island. The terrain is so steep that it appears like a fjord with palm trees. The houses were all on the beach with a variety of watercraft tied up in front. Dense jungle rose steeply up behind them and I wondered if the only access to these homes was by boat. We saw typical working boats, dozens of outrigger canoes and a few large sailboats along the way. There were swings hanging from the branches of palms, and sandcastles along the shore, bright pareos drying on lines in the breeze and flowering gardens everywhere. All the signs of people who take time to enjoy their lives.
The next day was about exploring the reefs around Raiatea. Many guests wanted to walk on one of the barrier islands so Michel took them across in the raft. John and I preferred to snorkel in the beckoning coral heads that we could see below the surface of water so clear as to make determining depth impossible. There was no loss of light as we dove 35-40′ down to come up with a beautiful conch shell. The natives called it “sept doigts” or “seven fingers”, named for the slender points that extend from the shell. Live ones are protected but since there was nobody home in this one it lives on my desk now as a reminder of peaceful living. 
The following day, we crossed through another passage, this time on the western side of the twin barrier reefs, onto the deep blue for a four hour crossing to Bora Bora. Approaching the island we were silenced by the twin towering pyres, vibrantly green as they jutted into the luscious blue of the sky. There is only one passage into Bora Bora. It is on the western side. The barrier reef had huge rolling aqua waves which traveled as a luminous curl for miles before crashing down. The passage through them was very narrow, and gave a stunning view down the curl. As if internally lit is seems like a gigantic continuous emerald syphon with a frothing white trim on the interior side. Our native stewardess, Jese, did a graceful dance to her traditional music as we sailed through the passage. 
After reboarding Nemo, we set sail to put out a hook for the night. All evening, my eyes kept drifting up to those two huge slabs of rock jutting up into the sky that create the distinctive silhouette of Bora Bora. As the light faded and the boat rocked gently I asked Jesi about the meaning of her dance. She told me that sea travel was full of legends about these island passages. Her reverence for this island was profound and unmistakable as she told me that Bora Bora was such a sacred place that one should never enter the passage without a gift. This dance was hers.
After breakfast, we headed to the Lagoonarium on Motu Tofari. It is a charming small barrier island, which appears to contain only a few small houses for the people who tend the pens used to contain turtles, sharks and tropical fish in shallow water. We were able to swim in the pens for a close up look. The pens were large enough to really travel with the animals, and in a funny way they seemed interested in us too. When we emerged from the fish pens, the owners brought us a huge tray of fresh fruit cut up into finger sized chunks as we rested under the palms. 
When the dinghy came, Michel took us to a place locally known as the coral garden. It is unmarked, simply a turn in the lagoon. We plunged backwards over the side of the dinghy, and by the time we surfaced we were 100 feet from it riding the 5-6 knot current. We held hands, and raced over the coral 2-4 feet below us. The yellow and orange coral heads, black and brown snails, brilliant jewel like fish, and neon colored scallops flashed by for about a mile and a half. Traveling at such speed it was like watching an Imax movie right in front of your nose! This was one of the most sensuous and exhilarating experiences I have ever had. Michel picked us up with the dinghy in the wash where the current slowed, and took us back to the headwaters so we could do it again. It was a stunning show, a truly exotic insight into the life that exists within and under the coral beds.
The Pampered Traveler 