Steam trains in The Douro Valley.

Old Jul 15th, 2006, 09:44 AM
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Steam trains in The Douro Valley.

STEAMING THROUGH THE DOURO VALLEY (Part I).

On Saturday 8th July I made a trip through the Douro Valley northern Portugal on a restored steam train – a service which runs each Saturday during the summer months between Regua and Tua. The following is my photographic report from the trip.

Seven a.m. on a Saturday morning. Santa Apolónia station in Lisbon. Wearied night crawlers and homeless merge, stray dogs sniff at scraps in shadowed corners and a lone policeman looks bored by it all. Buses and taxis disgorge their passengers onto the concourse and a vivid sunrise over the River Tejo (Tagus) warms us through. A city awakes and the morning’s newspapers are displayed at a kiosk. Portugal versus Germany in the World Cup third place play off tonight. One hears greetings and muted conversations, the shaking of hands patted backs and smiles. A mainline railway terminus - anticipation of a journey to come. Everything lies ahead of you for this is the starting point for adventures to come.

There is a small queue at the station ticket office - the bilheteira.

“Two singles to Régua, via the Alfa Pendular to Porto.” I ask the attendant in my broken Portuguese - he understands and smiles sympathetically - “Sessenta e oito euros faz favor.” Sixty eight euros. I pay and he slides across the tickets: “Linha numero um.” he says and I thank him. We still have almost an hour to wait - the train won’t depart until 7.55.

What am I doing catching a train at such an hour on Saturday when I’d usually sleep in late? I’m travelling to Régua on the Linha do Douro so to ride on the historic steam service which C.P run to Tua - this special train departs at 2.50 p.m and I have to catch this early Alfa Pendular so to arrive on time - the combined journey time is almost five hours.

I have a coffee with my guest, Keith, a railway enthusiast from England in the station café, there are a number of other people already stood at the counter and it is smoky: some read the sports papers - A Bola and Record. Some yawn and stretch, check on their luggage. We stroll up to our train, cleaners still scurry between the seats and food is being loaded into the dining car: it hums, this red and blue serpent stretched out asleep - ahead of it the tracks blend together in a confusion of points and our view to the sky is interspersed by the high voltage power lines suspended above which power it. Old posters on the wall, places to visit - things to see. Know Portugal. There is still half an hour to go and so I take some photos of Keith in front of the Alfa Pendular.

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Your seats are assigned when you buy the tickets and especially in the busier periods it may be advisable to purchase in advance, by the time we left Lisbon our carriage was full. People fleeing the city for the weekend: I heard only a few other foreign accents. Ours is small talk: me checking the cameras and Keith sits clicking his pen, fiddling with his rucksack. I take out my notepad and flip through the pages - descriptions of journeys past.

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Soon after leaving the station’s confines the video service started and one can request earphones from train staff or plug your own into the armrest - it is the type of thing one can expect on short haul flights, C.P in conjunction with R.T.P, (Rádio Televisão Portuguesa), not something that I’ll watch anyway: I see enough T.V at home. Outside Lisbon suburbs blur together, graffitied walls, sun reflecting windows, tall apartment blocks: I watch the speed increase kilometre by kilometre on a display above the dividing doors. And already is it 23 degrees outside. At Oriente Station, which serves the now mainly residential site of the old Expo ’98 more people get on and looking round me now there are no spare seats. Slowly do we leave Lisbon behind us. The River Tagus to our right, boats moored and still at this time in the morning - sunlight reflects from the rippled river surface. Past the lowlands, wetlands which border the river, rice fields and crops so green at this time of year, hazy morning light and the flat agricultural area of Portugal’s Ribatejo region stretch to the horizon. People flick newspaper pages, mobile phones ring out and there come loud voiced exchanges in my ear, people fall asleep in their reclined seats. Vineyards and trees flash past 218, 219, two hundred and twenty kilometres per hour. Houses - who lives there? What do they do? Small towns and clear skies, the air conditioning is cold on my bare arms. I close my eyes.

I’ve been wanting to take this trip for a while. C.P runs the steam service on the Linha do Douro between May and October each year and this area of Portugal is famed for its rugged mountainous scenery, the vineyards which terrace every available meter of hillside, the lazy River Douro which runs from Spain to merge with the Atlantic Ocean immediately west of Porto. The Douro Valley was classified as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2001 based on the criterion that for almost 2000 years it has been a wine producing region and how wine's production in the region has shaped its character - its landscape: terraced mountain sides and quintas, the small villages and transport links. And so to travel through it is to take a trip through the history of European wine production.

And the Linha do Douro, (the Douro Line) follows the river’s progress inland running alongside its western banks providing one of the most spectacular railway journeys in Europe. For the first half of the line until Caide the scenery is unremarkable passing through Porto’s suburbs and outlying towns and slowly does the view become more rugged and green. But upon leaving Caide and diving through a short tunnel the train exits onto a single branch line and so does the true Linha do Douro begin. Régua is an interesting junction between the main broad gauge line to Pocinho, and the narrow, (meter) gauge line which follows the course of the River Corgo to Vila Real. I’ve described the stunning trip to Régua in detail elsewhere, (http://fodors.com/forums/threadselec...2&tid=34819673) but I am always captivated by the views from the train as we follow the Douro inland and it is essential to choose a seat on the right of the train, pull the window down, stand up and put your face into the breeze, take a thousand photographs and marvel at the mountains which climb up on the other side of the river. That’s what my friend Keith was doing - it enthused me too.

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And approximately 1 ¾ hours after leaving Porto Campanha station, (having changed from the Alfa Pendular to our regional service train) do we arrive in Régua where we disembark into the heat of the day: it is 1.15 p.m and the temperature is in the mid thirties. Régua station never fails to excite me: it’s not the first time I’ve been here. It’s wrong to say I’m a train enthusiast - you see I’m more of a travel enthusiast: I enjoy the whole experience of a journey from its conception and planning to the arriving and disembarking at final destination. And Régua makes an interesting destination point - especially for one interested in old trains as Keith was. You see Régua reminds me of a working railway museum - characterful gleaming chromed passenger trains arriving and departing, bound for Porto and Pocinho further down the line. Mainline services. To your right, just past the pretty main station building, little red and grey railcars wait in the bay - destination Vila Real on narrow tracks of the meter gauge which look like those of a child’s toy train set in comparison.

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A short walk away across the rails, (and you just need to look left and right before crossing) lay derelict hulks of old steam locomotives, rusting away in sequestered loneliness, forlornly facing a turntable upon which I doubt they will ever be turned again. Old carriages and trucks, rusted machinery overgrown.

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And of course the real reason for our enforced early awakening: on the last line by the old goods shed the restored historic carriages with their open verandas and brass handles, at their head the billowing smoke of the steam locomotive, its whistle shrills out loud and people stop and look. And it’s to where everybody gravitates - taking photographs and talking amongst themselves, pointing and smiling, and the older people remembering for it wasn’t that long ago that steam trains were still in service in this part of Portugal.

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We take photographs and pose next to the gleaming black engine:

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And as an aside, why do we refer to vintage cars and old steam engines in the feminine? Perhaps it is only the English who do it: I guess we are all eccentric in our own way. There are three uniformed drivers who prepare her for the trip and I introduce myself to them: António Pinto da Costa, Sérgio Ribeiro and the Inspector Tracção, Alberto Álvaro Ferreira.

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We talk about the engine, how long it has been in service, what it means to drive it - the only one currently running in Portugal. The locomotive itself was constructed by Henschel & Sohn of Germany in 1924, and was one of ten given to Portugal by the German Government as an indemnity payment following the 1st World War. It originally was in service in the south of Portugal under the umbrella of C.F.S – Caminhos de Ferro do Sul.

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And now she works the Douro Line, arguably one of the most scenic railways in Europe. Working with it is a passion they say - perhaps they are as eccentric as the train enthusiasts from England. Keith knows all about steam engines and preserved railways, he lives close to the Bluebell Railway in East Sussex but it doesn’t dampen his enthusiasm for this one: it doesn’t matter he has been on so many different ones before this. And we take photographs of the old carriages, beautifully restored and gleaming, varnished wood and polished brass handles glinting in the sunlight. In total there are five carriages, all dating from the early part of the 20th century, a closed goods wagon which holds supplies of coal and a water truck which is directly behind the engine.

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The cost of the return ticket is 38 euros, it is about one hour and fifteen minutes each way. And included in the cost is a glass of Port wine served whilst on the journey, traditional music played by a family of musicians in costumes from the area and one can sample typical snacks in the form of meat filled “bolas”. Fresh cold mineral water is available for a small charge of 1 euro which buys you a cup and endless refills - though of course one can opt to take their own onboard explains Catarina Pinto, one of the Historic Train’s staff who speaks excellent English.

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Normally the percentage of passengers is half Portuguese and the rest tourists - from England, Spain Germany, France and so on many come as part of an organised tour group perhaps combining the train ride with a trip up river on a Douro Cruise: however you can buy tickets in advance from any of the following stations: Lisboa Santa Apolónia, Lisboa Oriente, Coimbra, Porto Campanha, Porto São Bento, Régua, Tua e Pinhão or from Régua on the day itself. But in the height of the tourist season there can be anything up to 350 passengers and so it advisable if not travelling as part of an organised group to purchase a ticket beforehand. And slowly do crowds of trippers filter through the station gates and approach their train: they stop to admire the carriages, run their hands over the varnished wood like a lovers caress - many of them are old and recall better times - at least better in their minds: Portuguese call it “saudades”, a longing for something long past.

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They clamber onboard talking and laughing, gripping the gleaming handrails and all the time does the music play - a set of pipes, an accordion, the lady with the triangle and a young girl sings out.

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And all the time, at the head of the carriages does the engine wait, smoking, breathing, anticipating the off: almost impatient in its will to attack the line ahead.

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I gain permission to ride with the drivers up front in the cab, therefore Keith will have to stand alone further back and he makes himself comfortable on one of the open verandas: we have sat for almost five hours already and now he just wishes to feel the wind in his hair and smell the smoke billowing back from the funnel, hear the steady beating of the pistons as strong as an athlete’s heartbeat. Watch the Douro valley passing him by. The centuries old tradition of terraced slopes and vines, gathering the best sunlight, making the best port. Vintage years. The very best of our lives.

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The heat in the cab is intense: a cramped environment, three hard working men and I: Sérgio opens the regulator handle and there is a sudden slippage of wheels on track: the hard puffing sound of the engine and smoke explodes from the funnel, a jerk and suddenly the beast comes awake and we are off with a shrill whistle and rocking motion as we gather speed.

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Through the station confines and past ballast trucks on one side, clackety clack and we shake, crossing the pointwork onto the mainline and out under the new road viaduct spanning the valley.

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Across a bridge and over the River Corgo which joins the Douro to our right: and people down below playing in the water, picnicking by its side look up and wave. A gentle swaying motion and the steady beating sound, chuff chuff chuff chuff so it goes, checking the gauges and looking from the window: I look down the line ahead through the driver’s eye viewpoint.

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Looking back down the train as we round a curve and smoke billows back behind us: there are many people with their heads from the windows and leaning out from the verandas: somewhere back there is Keith with his video camera I know.

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The river immediately to our right down a rocky slope: the vast expanse of water slightly rippled by the breeze and the cloudless sky stretches on forever:

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And vineyards cling to the mountains on the opposite side of the river.

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Overhead eagles soar on rising thermals, I lose count of the number I see with their huge wingspans silhouetted against the bright sunlight. And on through stations at which we don’t stop, the whistle sounds and the station master waves from the platform’s edge.

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All we leave as a reminder of our passage is the drifting smoke and echoing noise from the valley walls.

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Across more pointwork and back onto the single line, feed the beast feed the beast and as António Pinto da Costa swings open the firebox door I am assaulted by this blast of incredible heat from the hellish furnace within. Sweats drips into my eyes and makes them sting, Alberto Ferreira scrapes the shovel through the coal and throws it in, four times, left back right front or so it seems. I know nothing bar what I see.

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We share warm water from bottles above the coal bunker, wipe our hands with old cloths - my clothes already dirty and jeans stained with grease: oh how I’m loving this great experience. This unique experience: schoolboy dreams. Steam trains and spaceships - train drivers and astronauts. And the water laps almost at railside, telephone poles carry wires suspended which dip down between each one. Swaying gently on the track and wheels screech as we bear round the tight curves ahead.

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A patchwork display of mottled browns and greens climbs to meet the blue sky at a jagged horizon line, small quintas, (farms) dot the hillsides, placards announcing to which Port House they belong and what it must be to live somewhere like this. One can but dream of winning the lottery and I feel lucky just to be here now stealing brief seconds of this paradise surrounding me before we are gone again.

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A whistling call as we approach level crossings - there are people standing and taking photographs - cars wait and those whom control the barriers wave us by with their orange coloured baton. Past small houses which cling to the hillside and checking the gauges, more coal in the fire, more water to drink and it spills on the coals which litter the floor: swaying from side to side, leaning from the doorway - slipstream in face.

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And slowly ahead does the curving river reveal a secret - a town, white houses and terracotta rooflines, trees overhang the line,

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and we are to cross a small viaduct as we approach.

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I look down to the water and then back as we cross it, there comes a metallic rumbling as we ease across its girders: its a wonderful vantage point over the river and I am not the only one hanging out and recording it on film.

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Pinhão, so the water tower says, white writing against a black painted background: a diesel hauled train patiently waits at one platform for us to exit the single line and we ease to a stop alongside it, our old carriages in stark contrast to those more modern of the scheduled Douro Line service.

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And Pinhão - what a well kept station you are, gardens and trees and old lamps stand over the platform, colourful tiled panels against the white masonry: it is like an invitation to stay, disembark, get to know me. This is Pinhão’s welcome to the wearied traveller; see what I can offer you, so it seems to say in this well kept pretty town in the mountains. Pinhão. I would stay a while if I could but still do we have kilometres to travel: Tua our destination lies far ahead.

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And here does the engine drink, that first satisfying sip of ice cold beer on a scorching day, so water is fed into her side tanks as this series of photographs shows.

1. http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro33.jpg
2. http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro34.jpg
3. http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro35.jpg
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5. http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro37.jpg

And it is something alive, an old steam engine close to a century old - in a world which disposes of anything within a few short years, when it has outlived its usefulness or economic value. She still keeps on running and recollections of the past echo with its passage along the Douro. A steam engine breaths and groans complains and exalts, one can almost hear its satisfaction as fresh water refreshes it so: Pinhão still maintains its water tower and without it there’d be no steam, no steam engine and no historic train in the Douro valley. And I’ve stepped down momentarily from the cab, stretch my arms out and breathe but it is still hot outside: there is not much difference from inside. Rub palms through hair which feels dirty, gritty - there are flecks of coal dust and ash and soot from the smoke, my fingernails are ingrained with black. And one look to my friend Keith tells me all I need to know; that huge smile on his face and animated enthusiastic eyes - he’s enjoying the trip as much as I.

Pinhão, here more passengers board before we set off again, they have come up river on a Douro cruise boat and will carry on to Tua with us before returning to Régua: and so too do we lose some as they alight to catch the cruise back down the river and it combines so well, the gentle cruise and a historic train and yet I wonder if they are missing out - stay till the end, enjoy it all, take the train today and cruise tomorrow: this old train only runs once a week whereas those small pleasure boats run daily. Don’t be too keen to “do” everything for how much of it will you really experience if running around tired? Frantic in the oppressive heat.

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Once more is the throttle (regulator) opened and with another blast on the whistle and the station master who waves us off we are away slowly at first through the station.

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And so Pinhão we leave you behind, an adieu for now until we meet again upon our return later today.
Matt_from_England is offline  
Old Jul 15th, 2006, 12:19 PM
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Beautiful report!!! I felt as I was there. Waiting part II
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Old Jul 15th, 2006, 01:06 PM
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Matt, great report. I'll be looking at the pictures next. Can't wait until we get on our Duoro cruise in September. One question: Does the Alfa Pendular also run on Sundays? I'm having a hard time getting an answer or time schedule on the CP website. We plan to take it from Porto to Lisbon Oriente on Sunday, Sept. 17.
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Old Jul 15th, 2006, 01:30 PM
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I made a quick search and seems that September is too far away for CP time tables. The last available Sunday is 13th August. I think that it is a good approximation since I don't think that the time table changes a lot over 1 month time. You'd better check it again after 17th August.

The trains available for 13th August are:

AP Nº124 departure 08:15 arrival 11:17 03:02 € 36,00

AP Nº128 departure 11:15 arrival 14:17 03:02 € 36,00

AP Nº132 departure 14:15 arrival 17:06 02:51 € 39,50

AP Nº134 departure 16:15 arrival 19:17 03:02 € 36,00

AP Nº136 departure 17:15 arrival 20:06 02:51 € 39,50

AP Nº138 departure 18:15 arrival 21:17 03:02 € 36,00

AP Nº140 departure 19:15 arrival 22:06 02:51 € 39,50

AP Nº142 departure 21:15 arrival 00:06 02:51 € 39,50

Departure from Porto - Campamhã, arrival to Lisboa - Oriente. The cost is one person, 1st class.

Are you still in Lisbon on 21st September? I think there are still some seats available for September LDC.
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Old Jul 15th, 2006, 02:14 PM
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Super report Matt. Having taken the regular train from Pinhao east I know the best is yet to come in your journey - can't wait for the rest of the report.

Thanks for the great photos of the train - we can feel the heat and excitement.
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Old Jul 16th, 2006, 12:48 PM
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STEAMING THROUGH THE DOURO VALLEY (PART II.)

Why is train travel so appealing? Because it places you within the heart of the landscape - you become like a delicate brushstroke in a large oil painting and here do the mountains rise around you and the river gently flows towards Porto: and as many photographs as I take not one will do it justice. In a train one does not have to concentrate on the road ahead: there is not the claustrophobia of being within a small metal and glass cocoon - you can move around, stand up to the window: there are no flashing brakelights or car horns sounding: nobody cutting in front of you or long traffic queues - there is no other traffic ahead to spoil the view: roads are an ugly black slash through the countryside, everything is divided by it. Yet this old railway seems to fit in, be a part of the surroundings: trees and bushes butt up to the lineside - grass grows between the sleepers. Wildlife crosses when there are no trains, birds perch on the telephone poles and bar our storming passage there is silence by the riverside, perhaps a gentle rippling sound or the splash of a fish which momentarily breaks the surface - the sound of a jet plane high above which causes you too look up: if it weren’t for that, one could easily imagine we were almost a hundred years in the past - and perhaps those who take our picture as we pass them by are striving to achieve that imagery for the smoke billows from the engine’s funnel and the old carriages rattle behind us. There is nothing else to date the scene.

Originally the Douro line crossed over the border with Spain and the last station in Portugal was Barca d’Alva, however the line is now abandoned from Pocinho onwards. Once it would have been possible to take a train from Porto to Madrid, now alas no. The infrastrcuture still remains though is slowly eroding, not unlike the old steam engines in Regua. Our outward journey will finish in Tua, from where one more narrow gauge line winds its way up through the mountains clinging to the rocky terrain not unlike the vineyards which dominate this region. And why Tua? You’ll see from the pictures later.

On the left of the train, from your carriage window, open veranda or like me from the locomotive’s footplate one is hemmed in by the steeply climbing valley walls, rocky and shrub covered - you are so close to it that you can only see the vineyards as you approach them, not when alongside. Yet on the right the most marvellous view opens up, the Douro River, (Gold River) with a shallow embankment down to the water. And it takes your breath away how beautiful it all is.

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Whilst up ahead the perspective throws up almost a vertical wall of vineyards cut into the mountains, with their horizontal stripes of vines and the dusty tracks which zig zag down between them.

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Wine has been produced in this region for almost two thousand years and how our presence has sculpted the landscape. One may have toured the vineyards of France, especially those of you with an interest in wine and yet you cannot recall ever having seen such spectacular vineyards as these - and they truly define the character of Port wine and the north of Portugal.

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And you have a sensation that the landscape is changing - it is becoming drier, more barren, with rockier hillsides and less greenery - but perhaps it is just the time of year: it has been so hot in the past weeks.

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Through little villages that hug the railway, whitewashed walls and terracotta tiles – fruit trees and cars wait our passage at level crossings on the way.

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And as the line follows the Douro into which other rivers merge you cross viaducts and there comes that now familiar clanking sound of the metal girders taking the weight of our passage, the whistle blasts and anglers look up to us and wave: I wonder how has their luck been.

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And ahead of us is Tua station and I can make out people on the platforms awaiting our arrival - it seems the second half of the journey has been shorter and yet perhaps it is my imagination: I have taken less photographs because from behind the viewfinder of a camera one cannot fully appreciate the beauty surrounding you.

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And so I step down from the cab and look at the locomotive upon which I have been lucky enough to ride: she looks barely out of breath simmering in the heat and sun shines off of her polished paintwork.

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Whilst further back passengers alight and you can tell which ones are the real enthusiasts for they all look to the engine at the front, make their way down and take photographs like I had been doing.

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Whilst behind them, and perhaps none of the passengers notice, is the meter gauge Tua line curving away up a steep incline towards its destination of Mirandela: it looks more like something from an amusement park where you’d have to be strapped in before riding - it puts a new slant on “Scenic Railway.”

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Our locomotive has been decoupled and has steamed off without me: I’ve been talking with Keith and how he has loved the trip thus far. So together we explore the station, walking down the tracks alone and on the other side is another old steam locomotive slowly rusting away exposed to the elements: it is one of the narrow gauge engines and I take a photograph.

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It is at times like this when I wish I was rich for I would love to be able to restore her back to running condition, with polished brass and copper, fresh paintwork gleaming - to witness her tackling that steep gradient immediately out of the station. The smoke and the beating sound as she pulls her carriages away, the whistle echoing from the steep rock walls. Perhaps one day someone with money will take responsibility for this piece of railway history, they do it in England, perhaps one day here too. Perchance to dream. And ahead of us is our restored engine and she is on the turntable - the reason for Tua being our destination, she is being turned for the return journey and together the drivers and other staff members manhandle her.

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It is hard physical work manouvreing her, lining wheels up with the tracks again, steady,steady and then the rails lock into position.

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I climb up and take a short ride to the water tower where once more water fills her tanks.

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And more maintainence is carried out: oiling and greasing, cleaning, shovelling of coal into the firebox.

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro54.jpg

The turn around time in Tua is approximately one hour, the engine is decoupled and turned, repositioned at the head of the train once again and it is interesting to watch: it also offers plenty of time to explore the station confines and I find a water tap to wash my face in - my shirt is damp with sweat. Behind the station buildings are the narrow gauge tracks and in the sidings are more old carriages and wagons: it’s a railway enthusiasts vision of heaven to explore and in a shed we find yet another old steam locomotive out of service.

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro55.jpg

Next time I’m up this way I’ll have to ride the Tua line, but not today. And just up from the station platform is a tiny tasca, Keith and I sit outside under the vines drinking cold beers and making friends with the station dog.

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro56.jpg

And before we go, keeping an eye on what is happening regarding the train, we go into Tua’s ticket office – there is a small museum with artifacts from the railway, photographs and uniforms, and inside is shaded and cool and it is where we wait until slowly does everybody climb aboard again, and for the return journey I choose to ride with Keith on one of the open verandas

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro57.jpg

I’ll see the train crew once more at Regua where we’ll swap contact details for future correspondence. And standing here as the train picks up speed can be a little nerve wracking if all you are used to is air conditioned comfort and the sterile safe environment of the Alfa Pendular. Below your feet you see the rails and the sleepers one after another and the ballast blurring into a smear.

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro58.jpg

And from back here on the last carriage your view is completely different to before: you look ahead to the locomotive and you best view is stood on the left of the train as it goes round a left hand curve with the smoke blowing back across you.

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro59.jpg

And the river stretching into the distance.

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I take a walk down through the carriages, the small musical ensemble is playing and some of the passengers clap and sing along.

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro61.jpg

And before arriving at Pinhao I have a glass of Port with Catarina in a small refreshments area, little do I know how dirty I look from having ridden on the footplate. Pinhao is a beautifully preserved station, I knew it to be so on the outbound journey but my view was restricted by the modern train. Now as we arrive there is nothing to impede my view other than the passengers who are waiting to join us, having arrived by a river cruise a short while previously.

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro62.jpg

And it pays to get down for there are a few minutes to spare, take the time for photographs as I have done here.

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro63.jpg

Such wonderful tiled panels.

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro64.jpg

If there was ever an award for best kept station then this should be it.

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro65.jpg

And so again Pinhão - we bid you farewell with a final blast of the whistle and heaving chuffing noise from the engine and once we are gone bar our echo so will you return to being that sleepy little station which you are, waiting to see us again the next Saturday.

Here is some excellent advice: if taking this train and by the fact that you are reading this report then you must be in some way interested - the best view to be had is from the last carriage, the last open veranda - stand upon it and watch the valley fade into the distance behind you, the river snake into the rising mountainous horizon - the drifting smoke which has blown back over you - it can be a popular spot so try to get a position early.

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro66.jpg

For which you’ll be rewarded with views such as these…

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro67.jpg

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro68.jpg

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro69.jpg

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro81.jpg

As the train sways and rocks you can hold onto the handrail but one must not be nervous - you will not fall from this perch.

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro70.jpg

Upon the river we pass by the various cruise boats returning to Regua and further to Porto, some are full, some empty, up ahead the engine’s whistle blows and they reply with their horns: people wave - we wave back and take their photographs.

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro71.jpg

And now do you understand just what the markers are you have been seeing in the middle of the river, they look a little like giant wine bottles on poles, some painted green others red and it is now obvious that the former mark the safe channel for the boats to navigate through. Some years ago the Douro was dammed at various locations,

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro72.jpg

which put a halt to the traditional method of trafficking the Port wine down from the quintas to the Port houses in Vila Nova da Guia on the southern bank of the Douro in Porto. Nowadays that is handled by road and the old boats themselves have been converted into pleasure cruisers.

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro73.jpg

And as with all the river traffic now they proceed up and down stream by a series of locks in the dams.

Ahead of us the towering road bride which marks the entry into Regua: it dwarfs the old concrete road bridge which in turn replaced the original steel girder one which can just be made out behind it. Although derelict and out of use the original one still stands and if you get the photograph right they make a nice comparison. (Mine however wasn’t such a succesful shot…)

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro74.jpg

We cross a viaduct over the river Corgo

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro75.jpg

and below the valley floor is lush and green.

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro76.jpg

And then all to soon are we easing back into Regua station and our journey is coming to a conclusion: one can clearly see here the difference between the narrow gauge trackwork (middle) and broad gauge track (left of picture).

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro77.jpg

And coming to a halt on platform one of Regua station so all us passengers alight and it is time to leave: there are coaches waiting outside to take the tour groups elsewhere, or some stay on the platform and wait for the next train to Porto.

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro78.jpg

Whilst Keith and I, with time to spare take photographs of the historic train before it is stabled in the sheds again. Talk with the drivers and swap contact details, arrange to meet up on my next visit north.

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro79.jpg

And one must not forget the hospitality of the staff who were very professional and courteous at all times, despite the fact of having to deal with so many people at once and having to field all of my questions. (Thankyou Catarina!)

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f3...nd/douro80.jpg

And so to sum up the historic steam service:

Is it worth the 38 euros return price?

Some might think this a little expensive: you would not pay as much on a preserved railway in England but then this is not a preserved railway: this is actually a scheduled C.P steam service, albeit only once a week - running on a main passenger line with all the associated costs. There are no volunteers - all the staff are paid, from the engine crew to the public relations to the station staff. There is the maintainence of the locomotive and rolling stock to mainline standard to consider so 38 euros therefore seems like a bargain to me – especially if you are paying thousands for your Portugal holiday.

The Douro Valley is a UNIQUE location, wherever you are coming from; there is nowhere quite like it. It is spectacular without doubt. And the steam train which runs through it too is just as unique, just as spectacular. You will find it nowhere else. And if you, like me have a sense of the past, a longing, “saudades” then every time that steam whistle sounds so will a shiver run down your spine - it did mine. So is it a once in a lifetime experience? If you only visit Portugal one time, and make it to the Douro Valley, then yes it is – there is no better way of experiencing the landscape other than the cruise boats which journey up and down the river – and if possible the best weekend would be to ride the train on the Saturday and make the cruise on the Sunday and have the best of both worlds. For me it won’t be a once in a lifetime experience, because I will be riding it again soon – see you there perhaps?

And though here I am living just south of Lisbon I find myself often thinking of The Douro Valley, the old steam train and the feeling of history one experiences when on it. Port wine and sunshine, the new friends I have made who I look forward to meeting again: it’s all there – in my mind and photographs – how I love this part of Portugal.

Take care and happy trails,

Matt
Matt_from_England is offline  
Old Jul 16th, 2006, 12:59 PM
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Treplow, yes the AP runs Sunday - a good time would be to take the 16.15 which gets you to Oriente at 19.17 giving you a nice day in Porto first but still arriving in Lisbon for the early evening.

Foget first class - go tourist class it will cost you 24 euros pp - chairs are comfortable and recline with fold out feet rests and tables - much like an airline: it has a buffet car for snacks and drinks etc - and it is a comfortable ride. I think I'm right in saying that it goes from linha 8 so when you enter the main station building at Campanha you have to go all the way through the underpass from platform one. Arrive in plenty of time - there a coffee shops etc opposite the main entrance and be on the platform with ten minutes to spare.

Happy trails,

Matt
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Old Jul 16th, 2006, 06:37 PM
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Thanks much and "will do".
treplow is offline  
Old Jan 13th, 2007, 07:53 PM
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Loved your trip report. I will travelling to Portugal this March and will be staying in Pinhao for 2 nights. One of the days I would like to take the train from Pinhao and can't decide to go to Mirandela or to Pocinho. If we went to Pocinho, I would like to visit Vila Nova de Foz Coa, but if we went to Mirandela we could visit the artifacts easily the next day in our rental car. We also plan on taking a Douro river cruise from Porto earlier on the trip. What is the difference between a narrow gauge line and broad gauge? The width of the train?
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Old Jan 14th, 2007, 03:37 PM
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Hi there Metcarl.

Have you seen my other report from that area?

Narrow Gauge trip report.

http://www.fodors.com/forums/threads...from%5FEngland

I cannot recommend strongly enough the scenic train journey from Regua to Vila Real. Narrow gauge refers to the width of the line, (not that I'm a train buff) and the size of the trains. The narrow gauge trains are like toys in comaprison to the bigger brethren. And the narrow gauge track means it can go climb higher, and go round tighter curves, going where the big one can't. Fabulous, just fabulous.

Any Qs please feel free to ask away.

Matt
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