It does not matter how frequently you visit the harsh and exacting landscape of the Douro, nor what time of the year you are there: it is stark and haunting. Perhaps because you know something of what to expect you believe you will be inured to it. So when you come across a place where the brutal stone and bleak vegetation is softened by a gentleness of spirit which imbues the terrain and the structures perched precariously upon it, all world-weariness is washed away.