We can confirm that grapes really are stomped to make port here in the Douro Valley! We witnessed two guys doing this last night at Quinta da marrocos, the charming farm/winery where we are staying in an old room with rough stone walls, lots of old wood furniture and a stupendous view across the river at a large green and yellow slope ribboned with stone walls and vineyards.
One of the stompers was even drinking a beer for awhile while thigh high in purple grape juice. Amazing. We had dinner and “a visit”, a long tutorial from the fourth generation owner of this vineyard, which started with touring the vines and ended, of course, by drinking many different ports. (I preferred the 20-year-old pricey stuff of course)
Today we drove west to Pinhao, a laid back little fishing village and took a two hours slow-mo boat ride up the river between high hills lined with vineyards and the occasional white stucco or grey stone vineyard/hotel (including one visited by Bradangelina and another by former Brit PM John Major. We ended up driving north to Alijo and having a picnic of cheese, prosciutto (whatever the Portuguese version is called) and fruit at a long picnic table in a shady sleepy square in Favaios. Then we ended up taking what turned out to be a terrifying but dazzling drive on a one lane road out of Castedo that led us onto the roads carved into the hillside that I assume are most used by grape harvesters. Dirck did a great job of driving while I kept saying “Go slow, go slow!” and tried not to look at the sheer drop below.
Village in Duoro Valley (Favaios, I think)
Tonight, to celebrate surviving our harrowing drive we had dinner at the elegant DOC restaurant just up the road in a dramatic modern building with an outdoor deck jutting out into the river.
So glad we came here!
TakeBetsywithyou 
