The two nations, friendly and harmonious, have a joint bridge across the Miño, and it is a very pleasant little excursion to cross the river for a peep at Portugal. The bridge is modern and very long—400 yards. In the centre is a carriage road, above which is the railway; and on each side of the road is a footpath, from which very fine views are had of Tuy, Valença, and the river and surrounding landscape. At Tuy you may listen to the bells of Portugal, and from the grey walls of Valença fortress you may hearken to the chimes from the iron belfry on the house-topped summit of the hill on which the Spanish town is built.
Sentries allow you, being inoffensive visitors, to cross the bridge unchallenged. The Spanish and Portuguese guards take their duties easily, and are much less business-like than British or German troops. They more closely resemble the French in appearance and conduct. It is different, of course, if one attempts to take a photograph or make a sketch in the region of a fort. The use of the camera is not allowed in these places without permission, nor may drawings or sketches be made. My friend Mr. Frank H. Mason, in travelling for the purpose of illustrating this book, crossed the frontier to Valença, wishful from the battlements to sketch Tuy. Before he could proceed he found it necessary to interview the officer commanding the Portuguese guard. Permission was readily and politely given, but while the artist secured the necessary details he was watched by armed sentries who had been told off for the purpose. It was a picturesque but unnecessary proceeding, for there does not appear to be any serious military secret about the defence of either Tuy or Valença.
The Atlantic coast has been left behind and is out of sight; but there is now an even more astonishing panorama than the ocean-fringe itself has offered, for the Miño runs through fertile, striking, and romantic scenery for many miles, acting as a frontier between Spain and Portugal. Guillarey, a railway junction near Tuy, enables the traveller to take train and steam along the bank of one of the most picturesque iron roads in the world.
Sixty miles away is the town of Orense, and for fifty-five miles of that distance the railway hugs the bank of the Miño, so closely at times that there seems to be almost a prospect of the locomotive and its carriages going into the water. From the windows of the compartments there is an ever-changing, fascinating scene; now of the river rushing wildly over boulders, or going smoothly to the sea; now of vineyard upon vineyard, Spanish and Portuguese, rising in terraces on the slopes of the hills, and of some old ruin or towering landmark. At Salvatierra station there are the ruins of an ancient fort, seemingly on the platform itself; and across the river is Mongao, a mediæval city, which can be reached by ferry. Hereabouts is a famous wine-growing district, and so fertile is the country that it is spoken of as Galicia's granary. The river which is crossed by the iron bridge at Salvatierra is the Tea, which at this place runs into the Miño.
The scenery becomes grander and grander until Arbo is passed, and then, eight miles farther on, at Friera station, Portugal's highest mountain is seen, the Outeiro Major, with an altitude of nearly 8000 feet, rising beyond the town of Melgaço, situated on its slopes. A short distance beyond this point the Portuguese frontier, indicated by a few cottages, is left behind; but the character of the scenery remains the same as far as Orense.
Before Orense is reached there is a chance of seeing the old and picturesque town of Ribadavia, where the river Aria, on the banks of which it stands, joins the Miño. Ribadavia has a population of 5000, and in the convent of Los Dominicos possesses a building which was at one time a royal palace, though probably a crude one, for it was occupied by monarchs of Galicia when the country was a separate kingdom. The town is very quaint, and will form a halting-place for visitors who like to spend a few hours examining it while awaiting the return of the train from Orense. That town, however, will offer more inducement than Ribadavia, especially to those who have made a particular point of journeying along the frontier and are not disposed to go beyond.
Orense is a very ancient city, celebrated for its bridge and warm baths, which for many centuries have been looked upon as marvels. These baths, or springs, have a temperature of about 150° Fahr., and as the water has practically neither taste nor smell and does not appear to possess any medicinal value, it is used for washing and all kinds of domestic purposes, even including the cleansing of slaughtered animals. There are three springs, called Las Burgas, and they yield about thirty gallons of hot water each minute.
The cathedral is an imposing building, with a very gloomy interior, and although the structure dates from the sixth century, still it will scarcely call for more than passing attention from any one who is not ecclesiologically inclined. There are, however, some extensive and magnificent cloisters at Orense, which may be viewed by permission, and there is the bridge. This is a remarkable stone structure, dating from the thirteenth century, with a length of more than 1300 feet, and containing seven arches. One of these, the central, known as the Grand Arch, is 156 feet wide. It is pointed, and the crown is 135 feet above the bed of the river—a height which looks very considerable both from the bank of the river and the walls of the bridge.
The Miño rises rapidly and to a great height, and it was with the object of safeguarding the bridge against the sudden inundations that the arch was made so high. The bridge ascends from each end to something of a point in the centre, and is one of the wonders of Orense. A stone in the bridge records the interesting fact that that particular spot is exactly 555 kilometres—nearly 350 miles—from Madrid. Beyond the springs, the cloisters, the cathedral, and the bridge, the town has few attractions, but whatever it may lack in the shape of bricks and stones and mortar is more than counterbalanced by the glories and the grandeur of the neighbouring scenery.