What I can say is that this stretch of the Côa valley is the part where the story of the rock art really begins. In 1991 Nelson Rebanda, a young archaeologist working on the dam project, noticed engravings on the schist walls, and over the following years teams recorded hundreds of panels along the river.
The story that followed is one of the best in modern archaeology. The electricity company was building a dam that would flood the lower valley, and the first panels were found just as the work was getting under way. Scientists argued that the engravings were Palaeolithic, which was hard to believe for open-air art in a climate with frost and sun, and then dating work confirmed it. Archaeologists, students, newspapers and international bodies joined the campaign, and a long, noisy argument ended in 1995, when the government decided to stop the dam. It was an unusual victory of art over electricity.
The valley is a harsh, dry place. The slopes are covered in rockrose, broom and thyme, and in summer the air smells of herbs baked by the sun. Griffon vultures, eagles and Bonelli's eagles circle on the thermals, and wild boar, foxes and, with luck, a badger live in the scrub. The engraved panels face the river on both sides, and many can be reached only by a rough track and a walk. Visits are guided and booked through the museum in Foz Côa.
Riding here means small, twisting roads, with steep hairpins down to the river and a lot of dust. Surfaces vary from smooth to broken, and in summer the heat is intense, so start early and take water. Wildfires are a real danger, and roads may be closed in a dry year.
Fuel is available in Vila Nova de Foz Côa, about six kilometres away, and Mêda has a smaller supply. There are no services at the engravings themselves, so come prepared.
Spring is the loveliest season, with green hills and flowers, though autumn has its own gold. Allow a full morning for the guided visit, and wear sturdy shoes.