António Magalhães

This is the second lecture about the Douro Valley by the great viticulturist António Magalhães. Today’s theme goes literally beneath the surface. After exploring the climate in our first session, we turn to the second pillar of the region’s terroir: its soil.

A Soil Made by Hand

When you walk through a vineyard in the Douro Valley, take a moment to look down. You see the slow artistry of nature, which over millions of years created the schist beneath your feet, and the tireless toil of generations who transformed it into living soil where vines can thrive.

The Douro’s deep valleys were carved over millennia by the river and its tributaries. On those steep slopes, the native soils, known as leptosols, are little more than a palm’s depth of earth resting on hard schist. Left untouched, they would never have sustained flourishing vines.

But in the Douro, people refused to accept nature’s limits. Over the course of centuries, they created anthrosols — soils made by human hands. The locals call the act saibrar, agronomists surribar: it means breaking rock to create soil where vineyards can grow.

The photograph shows that the schist bedrock appears brittle and easily broken. Above it lies the soil created by human labor. Look closely, and you can see the vine roots reaching down, searching for that last drop of water that keeps them alive through the scorching summer heat.

The image illustrates the words of the Marquis of Villa Maior, from his 1875 treatise, Practical Viticulture:

“The longevity of the Douro and Burgundy vines is due to the extraordinary development of their roots, favored by the nature of the subsoil.”

Breaking Rock to Grow Life

Until the late 19th century, surribar was done with nothing more than pickaxes and iron bars. In the 20th century, dynamite was introduced, followed later by bulldozers and hydraulic excavators. Yet the goal remained the same: to give each vine at least a meter and a half of soil depth.

The schist fractures almost vertically, allowing roots to slip deep between its plates. There, the vine finds not abundance but balance: less than 1.5 percent organic matter, yet perfectly aerated and rich in minerals. These fractured layers also ensure excellent drainage, carrying away excess rainwater while retaining just enough moisture for the vines to endure the long dry season. It is a poor soil that yields noble fruit, a reminder that in wine, perhaps as in life, struggle builds character.

Stones and Gravel

Kneel in a Douro vineyard and you’ll see a glittering mosaic of crushed stone and gravel. To outsiders, it looks barren; to the vines, it’s paradise.

In 1947, agronomist Álvaro Moreira da Fonseca, who devised the Douro’s vineyard classification, ranked soils by their gravel content. His creed, simple and enduring, can be expressed in words worthy of being carved in stone: “Vines thrive on stony ground.”

The gravel plays alchemy with the elements: reflecting sunlight by day, releasing heat by night, regulating the vine’s rhythm. It stores warmth, tempers vigor, and transforms scarcity into intensity.

Counting by the Thousands

António says that “The poorer the soil, the closer the vines.” Douro farmers compensate for the soil’s low fertility by planting vines at higher densities. Each vine produces modestly, but together they create abundance. Instead of counting hectares, growers speak of milheiros — groups of a thousand vines.

After the phylloxera epidemic, the rebuilt terraces — socalcos — reached a density of 6.5 milheiros per hectare, enough to make every meter of stone wall worthwhile.

Sculpting the Mountain

Rain, the same force that helped carve the Douro, also threatens to destroy it. The solution lies in building terraces to prevent soil from sliding away. During the surriba, the stones brought to the surface are removed and reused to build the vineyard walls. This operation, called despedrega, is a practice that makes the back-breaking labor of surribar more rewarding.

Some of the terraces devastated by phylloxera were never replanted. Many owners, overcome with despair, abandoned the region to rebuild their lives elsewhere. Others chose to start anew, replanting vines on gentler slopes with more forgiving soils and milder climates.

These abandoned terraces, known as mortórios, have been reclaimed by the Mediterranean forest. Their stone walls, now entwined with wild vegetation, stand as silent witnesses to a tragic chapter in the Douro’s history.

The oldest terraces, built after phylloxera, were supported by dry-stone walls, feats of balance and beauty where each stone rests “one upon two.” In the 1960s, as labor became scarce and tractors arrived, new earth-banked terraces (patamares), depicted below, took their place — practical but less graceful.

At the turn of this century, António Magalhães and David Guimaraens, the head winemaker of Taylor’s Fladgate, combined the beauty of the old dry-stone terraces with the practicality of the modern earth-banked ones. Inspired by California’s Benziger Family Winery, they built narrow terraces, just 1.5 meters wide, each with a single vine row and a gentle 3 percent slope to drain rainwater safely. Precision-leveled by laser, this innovation protects against erosion while preserving the Douro’s graceful geometry.

Root and Rock

The phylloxera plague that ravaged European vineyards in the late nineteenth century arrived at the Douro in 1863-64.

Salvation only came after Jules-Émile Planchon, a French botanist, and Charles Valentine Riley, an American entomologist, discovered that grafting European grapevines (Vitis vinifera) onto American rootstocks could save the vines.

One such rootstock, Rupestris du Lot, thrived on the Douro’s poor, dry, schistous hillsides.

It seems to facilitate potassium absorption. This mineral helps regulate the opening and closing of tiny pores on leaves, called stomata, which control transpiration and CO₂ uptake — both essential to photosynthesis.

For decades, the Rupestris du Lot anchored the valley’s post-phylloxera vineyards, its deep-seeking roots echoing the surriba’s purpose: to connect life to stone. Even as newer, more productive hybrids replaced it, António continues to praise its quiet virtues — longevity, restraint, and resilience — the very qualities that define the Douro itself.

Granite Lagares

The granite lagares of the Douro are among the most enduring symbols of the region’s winemaking heritage. Their coarse surfaces help regulate temperature during fermentation and impart a tactile connection to the land — the sensation of grape skins and must mingling with the mineral essence of granite itself.

For centuries, blocks of rock were quarried from places like Vila Pouca de Aguiar, Portugal’s self-proclaimed “granite capital,” where the stone’s density allows it to be cut into large rectangular slabs.

António concludes his lecture with poetic words: “In the Douro where I grew up, the grapes journey from rock to rock — ripening in the heat of schist and fermenting in cool granite lagares.”

What to Visit

The train trip from Pinhão to Pocinho offers a geology lesson. Along the slopes that flank the railway, you see the leptosol with its thin layer of soil above the parent rock.

The art of building dry stone walls is beautifully explained at the Wine Museum in São João da Pesqueira, a town whose historic center also deserves exploration. The visit whets the appetite for lunch at Toca da Raposa, in Ervedosa do Douro, about 8 kilometers away along the National Road 222, heading toward the mouth of the Torto River — another magical tributary that shapes the wines of the Douro, alongside the Pinhão River. In the summer, you can also book an unforgettable picnic at the Foz Torto estate with our friend Abílio Tavares da Silva.

António recommends reading “Taste the Limestone: A Geologist Wanders Through the World of Wine,” by Alex Maltman. You’ll return home with a deeper understanding of soils and their decisive role in defining terroirs across the world.

You might not be familiar with António Magalhães, the chief viticulturist of the famed Taylor-Fladgate port house, but if you enjoy exceptional port wines, you’ve likely experienced the fruits of his labor. António has worked for more than three decades in the rolling terraces of the Douro Valley. Throughout this time, nature has gradually revealed to him some of its winemaking secrets. Patience has been essential in this apprenticeship. It can take many years to grasp the impact of viticulture choices on wine production.

António is known for his thoughtful character and gentle disposition. But beneath this demeanor lies a powerful intellect–he has the rigor of a scientist, the curiosity of a historian, and the eloquence of a poet. He believes in combining scientific methods with traditional wisdom and has a deep reverence for the mysteries of winemaking.

In collaboration with a statistician, António sought to unravel some of these mysteries, analyzing climate data since 1941 to identify weather patterns associated with vintage years, the finest for port wine production. They discovered that these years share three characteristics. First, the average temperature in July is less than 24.5 degrees Celsius. Second, two-thirds of the rain falls during the dormancy period (from November to February) and one-third during the growth period (from March to June). Third, there is less than 20 millimeters of rain in September. A small amount of rain at harvest time helps refine the grapes, says António, but too much rain in September fills the grapes with water and promotes fungal diseases. To António’s delight, they found that exceptional vintage years often deviate from the norm in unique ways, a testament to the magic of port wine.

Another facet of this magic is the art of blending. The Douro’s diverse microclimates provide winemakers with a rich palette to adapt to the annual variations in weather. They skillfully blend diverse varietals from vineyards with different locations, altitudes, and sun exposure. António has a profound understanding of the art of blending grounded on his comprehensive knowledge of the Douro subregions—the rain-soaked Baixo Corgo, the moderately wet Cima Corgo, and the arid Douro Superior.

He has studied how grape varietals were adapted to counter the crisis created by phylloxera, an American insect that decimated European vines in the second half of the 19th century. The blight reached the Douro region in 1862-63 and became a severe problem in 1872. Farmers noticed that Mourisco, a varietal with lackluster enological properties, was the most resistant to phylloxera. For this reason, Mourisco was crossed with Touriga Nacional, considered the finest pre-phylloxera varietal, to create Touriga Francesa. The name, which means French Touriga, was likely chosen to honor the French school of viticulture and its contribution to creating phylloxera-resistant varietals.

António also analyzed the various types of American vine roots brought from places like Texas to the Douro Valley to graft European vines and increase their resilience to phylloxera.

Since 1992, António has worked closely with David Guimaraens, the chief enologist at Taylor-Fladgate. Every year, António and David write several letters to the farmers who produce grapes for Taylor-Fladgate, offering insights into the vines’ current conditions and the most effective viticulture practices to respond to them. This educational effort is vital to the quality of the Taylor-Fladgate ports.

Concerned with the impact of heavy rainfall on soil erosion, António and David developed a new model for the terraces where the vines are planted. They had an epiphany while visiting the Benziger family, a biodynamic wine producer in California. It started to rain torrentially, and as they ran for shelter, they noticed that the rain was running with them. They realized that this kind of drainage, created by a three percent gradient, is what the Douro Valley needs.

António and David asked earthmoving companies to find a bulldozer narrow enough to fit in the terraces and capable of creating a three percent inclination. One of the companies found a second-hand machine used in rice plantations in the south of Portugal. The company’s manager called to say that the machine had an unusual device. “Bring it along,” said António. It turned out that the device was a laser that greatly simplified the task of creating a three percent slope. They later learned that the Benziger farmland had been graded by Chinese workers, who were likely to be familiar with the three percent inclination used in rice cultivation.

The Taylor-Fladgate farms stand out for their beauty because António is a sculptor of landscapes. He knows that cultivating a vineyard, planting a tree, or building a stone wall alters the scenery, and like an artist, he selects colors that harmonize, proportions that feel human, rhythms that please the eye.

António is passionate about researching the history of the Douro region. He often visits Torre do Tombo, a vast national archive with documents spanning nine centuries of Portuguese history. The writings of Álvaro Moreira da Fonseca (the creator of the vine quality scoring system still in use), the Baron of Fladgate, John Croft, José Costa Lima, A. Guerra Tenreiro, and many other Douro luminaries are his constant companions.

His extensive knowledge of history gives him a unique appreciation for the sacrifices made by generations of workers who have toiled in the Douro region. This understanding is evident in how António interacts with the people he manages. His sincere appreciation for their efforts earns him the loyalty and trust of his collaborators.

Today, António Magalhães retires as Taylor-Fladgate’s chief viticulturist. This milestone marks the beginning of a new chapter. We hope that António can now find the time to write a treatise on viticulture so that, as the climate continues to change, his erudition can illuminate the future of the Douro Valley.