We could call it the Trail of Earth and Heaven, such are the heights we climb and the depths to which we descend. But it’s worth the effort. It is as refreshing as a spring of cool water when the desert wears us down and thirst burns within us.

From the top of the Chapel of Santa Bárbara, the gaze wanders toward the distant ridges, which fade into shades of gray and blue, and returns distorted. With it comes the imagination and the dream that fuel the fantasy of setting out on a journey of discovery. Vila Real is seen in a sort of approaching bird’s-eye view.

The vineyards and olive groves trace the furrows of hard work across the fertile, steep schist soil. The villages look like flocks of houses grazing on the green landscape, lending it a pale, cheerful radiance.

Descending the steep slopes, to which the vines cling in rows and lines, we come upon the village of Veiga, a cluster of light-colored houses surrounded by greenery, with a at the bottom of the valley, with friendly and outgoing people. It is a fertile green landscape, festive in its abundance of vegetable gardens, flowers, vineyards, and grape varieties for wine and for the table. From down below, at the bottom of the valley and looking up at the slopes that seem to touch the clouds, the view is enchanting and even impressive for the earthly and human scale it reveals. From above, on the EN2, you can see the deep, flat valley adorned by the patterns of farms and vegetation, by the Arcadela River with its clear waters, and by the cheerful smile of the houses.

The vineyards that yield grapes for Port wine perch on the terraces. The people possess a spontaneous and communicative warmth that only a people who have grown accustomed to addressing Mother Earth as “you” can possess. They love the place where they live and are grateful to it for its fertility.

                       “There is no land like the Veiga in all of Penaguião:

                        Penaguião produces only wine, but Veiga produces both wine and bread.”

This verse, taught to us by one of its residents, who recited it with a gleam of pride in his eyes, fully illustrates what every visitor’s eyes can see. But the Trail, capricious and proud of its beauty, leads us to other places. Each one has something unique, whether in its landscape or in the memories etched into the stones of the chapels and the oldest houses.

When we leave, after having walked every kilometer, we find ourselves wanting to return again and again.