The dogs were large, with pointy ears, and they appeared suddenly along the cobbled path, barking furiously. My husband Paul and I paused, then slowly crept past them as we murmured pet-friendly reassurances at their bared teeth. They jumped around a bit but did not draw nearer; all bark, no bite. A cheerful man hobbled down the path on his cane, reaffirming this in Portuguese and gestures and tone that conveyed his meaning to our linguistically challenged ears. Chuckling, he waved us on our way from the tiny stone village into a sparse forest in Portugal’s sole national park—Peneda-Gerês.