writing for self-discovery

Holding a place at the very apex of my to-do list for Portugal was a river cruise to the Arvad vineyards. But the trip was touch-and-go, dependant upon the tides and the weather. At one point, I got a cancelation email.

Come Wednesday, the sun appeared, the tide flowed in, and YAY! It was on again. Let’s go!

Nine of us strapped into life preservers and trailed down the concrete steps of the pier into what appeared to be an old fishing boat. Later, as our captain extolled the beauty of the landscape, the history of the river, and pointed out the chimneys of dozens of derelict sardine factories, we learned that he used to be a fisherman, and this was iindeed his old fishing boat.

Speaking of chimneys, white cranes are plentiful in Ferragudo. Every single one of those towering columns boasts a toupee of twigs and grass, home to Mom and Pop Crane.

These birds have many sounds: caterwauling like cats in heat, raucously cawing like crows, and a loud clacking, a warning when another bird approaches. I captured one such event in the above video.

We chugged along in the boat for about 45 minutes, listening and learning, waving to other boats, enjoying the companionship of our group.

That’s our captain in the sunglasses.

Six of the passengers were going to the town of Silves for a walking tour. A Dutch couple and I would be dropped at the Arvad winery and picked up after the Silves tour.

I’m behind the couple, disembarking. The golf cart driver from the vineyard is letting the captain know they are ready for us.

We waved the boat off and climbed into the golf cart. It jiggled and lurched up a washed-out gravel road. I tried to catch a few photos while hanging on for dear life.

We were met by the sommelier in an elegant setting on the terrace. He explained the layout of the vines, the soil, and the pruning, which is happening now. Then, led us to the barrel room.

The ceramic vats are made in Sicily. In themselves, they are flawless works of art.

Our host explained that the name Arvad means refuge. When Phoenicians brought wine-making to Potugal, they found refuge here from pirates.

The Arvad logo is shaped like a Phoenician clay amphora and that is what was used all those centuries ago to age the wine. Some were lined with pine pitch and resin. The majestic ceramic urns that line the walls of this barrel room lend a hint of their essence to the wines aged in them.

Then, it was time to taste. A Brazilian woman had come by car, so there were 4 of us. The couple had a table together, but the Brazilian woman and I each had one with our own loaded charcuterie boards, baskets of bread, olive oil, dishes of sea salt, and wine glasses.

We began. The whites were crisp and fresh. I could picture myself sitting in the shade on my deck on one of Minnesota’s suffocatingly hot, humid days, sipping a glass of this icy cold white. 

The rosé had an exciting, tingly quality. I’m not a fan of rosé in general, but I liked the way it slightly numbed my lips.

I was eager to taste the red from a dark-skinned grape called Negra Mole. I had done my research and expected a full-bodied, flavorful wine. But, no. It was also light and fresh. Bright, I guess, would be a good word. Not sulky or brooding like a cabernet sauvignon.

When I’d tasted four wines, generously poured, and eaten more of the treats than was wise, I went to explore the wine shop where our golf cart driver was on duty. Come to find out, there was a more robust red from the Negra Mole grape. I added a bottle of that variety to my bill.

Then it was back to the boat and home fast with the ebbing tide.

We’re approaching our pier by the white buildings.

What an unforgettable day. My journey is complete. Anything else from here on in is the cherry on top, and there’s always room for another cherry!