Towards the end of my stay in Portugal we took some field trips up the famous Douro valley, renowned for its fin Port wines distributed globally. We saw some lovely countryside, fine riverine landscapes, masses of vineyards, undertook plenty of wine-tasting, and visited historic villages. One trip focused on Mesao and the upper Douro, with a special focus on the Sandeman Vineyard. Just take in the masses of images below. We start with the road to Mesao through the mountains of central Portugal and our first glimpse of the Douro upstream from Porto nar to the picturesque town of Mesao.
This elegant little town had an historic core and some more modern extensions.
This central monument records the independence of Portugal 875 years ago! And we ambled through often narrow streets until we reached the more modern shopping centre with its ornate churches.
Note the wind turbines on the hill-top. I found these impressive, unlike our Prime Minister
And wee visited a museum focusing on children's trikes.
In the upper reaches of the Douro, we saw countless vineyards cascading down hillsides to the water below, and impressive bridges carrying new motorways across the river. And the vineyards where wee tasted the local tipple sometimes had hosts dressed in somewhat flamboyant garb.
At on point a dam created a largish lake from which I presume the terraced vineyards drew irrigation water, for this is on of the driest parts of the country.
And yet another tasting for members of our party.
Finally we stopped at a local museum to see the traditional flat-bottomed boat that ferried win down to the harbour at Porto.
This elegant little town had an historic core and some more modern extensions.
This central monument records the independence of Portugal 875 years ago! And we ambled through often narrow streets until we reached the more modern shopping centre with its ornate churches.
Note the wind turbines on the hill-top. I found these impressive, unlike our Prime Minister
And wee visited a museum focusing on children's trikes.
In the upper reaches of the Douro, we saw countless vineyards cascading down hillsides to the water below, and impressive bridges carrying new motorways across the river. And the vineyards where wee tasted the local tipple sometimes had hosts dressed in somewhat flamboyant garb.
At on point a dam created a largish lake from which I presume the terraced vineyards drew irrigation water, for this is on of the driest parts of the country.
And yet another tasting for members of our party.
Finally we stopped at a local museum to see the traditional flat-bottomed boat that ferried win down to the harbour at Porto.
AS
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