The hotel at Quinta do Vallado (see last post) sits at an elevation of about 450 meters above sea level – a long way up a steep hillside from the Douro River in Portugal. But the highest vineyards, which are planted with a magical, almost mystical mix of heritage grapes (perhaps as many as 30 varieties) on vines that are close to 100 years old, are way up the hill at around 600 meters. Before we left Vallado to make our way to Quinta do Crasto, one of the staff drove us up to the top to survey the vineyards. On the way back down, around 550 meters, we saw a work crew topping the Touriga Nacional vines and tying them on wires. As we approached, I thought we heard a radio playing fado, the mournful popular music that you could call the Portuguese blues. (It almost always involves some reason why lovers are fated to be kept forever apart.) But there was no radio – just Maria Julia singing as she worked. The songs were sad, but Maria Julia worked fast and with heart. The lovers in the song suffer, and the grapes suffer on this sharp incline with rocky schist. But the wine is as sweet as the song.