Spain 14 - Up in the mountains and down to the sea

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After our fleeting visit to Teruel it was time to get on the road again and head for Navajas a tiny village up in the mountains. The name reminds me of spaghetti westerns and the native American Indians. And to be fair this is the land of the spaghetti western and later in the week have a date booked with the western stage set of The Good , The Bad and the Ugly.



But that’s another story . Our journey was again through a barren landscape of dried river beds. The mountains were cooler and the city dwellers come up in their droves to escape the heat of summer and bike along the many disused railway lines in the area.



Navajas was once a bustling thriving mining area. The villas in the town tell the story of the rich who made their money from mining. Villas that wouldn’t look out of place next to Osbourne House (Queens Victorias seaside retreat) on the Isle of Wight or alongside Lake Como. Wealth came easy and the mine owners intent on making more money had enough to spare to create their own tiny railways to move ore to the coast.



Now it is quiet with just a small village street, a tourist information which was closed and a campsite on the edge of town.



The campsite stretched up the hill from reception. Permanent caravans filling the lower plots , bungalows the middle part of the site and motorhomes, caravans and tents right up at the top. There was a swimming pool sadly only opening in June again and a restaurant . As it was low season it only opened in the day and closed at 5 pm. The height of the season was July and August – way too hot for us.



There were three ablution blocks . All very clean and tidy and the usual chemical toilets , small shop and a mudejar tower.



The next day we walked to the prim little station now unmanned. Painted in pastel colours it proudly showed it name in red. A single track would its way up the hill further into the mountains and back again to Valencia on the ooast. Only four trains a day ran . The first at 6.30 . The one we chose to use was at 9.10 and was a direct train to Valencia arriving at 10.44. The cost of the single to Valencia was 5 euros 70 but when the train arrived the guard sold us returns for 17.20 for the two of us. This compared favourable to what we would have paid at home for a round trip of 120 miles.



Our only other passengers from Navajos were three old ladies and an elderly gentleman. All of whom shouted a cheery good morning to us.



The train a white and red RENEF local one chundled its way down the hills toward Segunt. Never picking up much speed at any point on the way. Upon arriving at Segunt it quickly filled and chugged its way out of the station towards the city of Valencia.



The outskirts were like any other city you could imagine. Grafitti on the walls, burnt out cars on empty parking lots. A brand new City of Science with GP race track and modernistic buildings. Interspersed were fields with Globe Artichokes, cabbages, oranges and peach trees. As we don’t love cities we had apprehensions but there is saying that comes to mind that I read on a calendar. It is not a matter of what you study, but a matter of of seeing things “as it is” and accepting things “as it is”. How true of Valencia .



We rolled into the station with no expectations at all. Instead we were greeted with the most delicately beautifully functional station you could ever wish to see. Old fashioned it was but so pretty with ceramic flowers and leaves springing from every available space. Pretty art deco glass covered the roof spaces and wall lights. Even the outside in cream brick was delicate but yet functional.



It as a long walk into the city from the Estation du Nord but interesting as we passed by Art Deco houses, fountains both modern and ancient, street cafes spilling out and a market selling all manner of goods. It is a noisy city but then most are buy the sidewalks are wide and there is enough to see to make it an interesting walk. Coffee stop dictated what we did next.



The cathedral is a mish mash of styles with a Gothic heart overlaid by later Baroque architecture. Heavy and squeezed into a corner. There were some interesting towers but we didn’t feel inclined to go in as it seemed as usual too dark and gloomy for our tastes which run more to the gothic. A quick peer through the door showed the usual ornate altar piece and baroque side chapels. You could pay extra to see the silver chalice – we didn’t bother.



The best part of the city were the two gateways that would have pierced the city walls. The walls have long gone and the gateways remain isolated. Pocked marked by cannon shot we couldn’t work out if this was from the Peninsular War or the Spanish civil war as we looked at them. And without internet to check we had to wait to find out. We found out later that this gateway in the defensive wall dated from the late Middle Ages. It was built by the master stonemason Pere Balaguer in the 14th century to defend one of the busiest points of access to old Valencia It comprises two pentagonal structures on either side of the gateway, which is formed by a semi-circular voussoir arch. The interior façade has large, arched openings, designed as galleries. In the 16th century it was converted into prisons for noblemen and knights, and continued in use until 1887.



Lunch was a simple cheese, walnut and lettuce baguette and a mango granita which we ate and drank sitting on the cold marble steps at the back of the church. A time to just relax and watch the world go by .



We found the indoor market . Another Art Deco structure with every stall you could wish for. All manner of cheeses, rabbit , meat I knew and meat I had little idea about. Bread, cakes and vegetables. Pizzas to take away . A lovely place and it smelt like heaven , spicy and rich.



It was then time to return home . We sat for a while in the station drinking freshly squeezed orange juice until our train came in. I have developed a liking for freshly squeezed orange. it tastes much nicer than back at home.

This time the train only went as far as Segunt where we had 6 minutes to change train. It was not directo like the one we travelled in to Valencia on. As we had no idea of the size of the station nor if we could find the train it seemed as if we might miss our connection. Particularly as our train was running what seemed 8 mins late . We trundled along as if no hurry in the world past the same sights we had seen on the way in earlier in the morning. We arrived in the station 5 minutes after the Navajos train should have left. It is then that you start to ponder how you will get back to where you started from.

Across the track on via 11 was a lonely train. Standing there we put two and two together and watching everyone heading that way . We guessed that this must be our train. We legged out down the tunnel whilst everyone else walked slowly as if they had all the time in the world. It was indeed our train and it waited for everyone to get off the connecting train and join it before it chugged out for Navajos. It didnt seem in much of a hurry to get anywhere. Unlike the trains out of Birmingham or Liverpool .



The journey back was slower than the way in as the train was going uphill all the way. It chugged to the top of hills as if it was going to be out of breath at the top. And it freewheeled down the other side. The engine noise changing from uphill climbs to downhill rushes. It pulled over to let other trains by. Eventually we arrived in Navajos and walked back up the hill to our campsite.



An unexpected treat and one we had not expected . Perhaps these are the best .

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Photos

Valencia
A stylish ticket hall

Comments

[Pauline Parry]

Holiday
Hi Jen and Glenn.Looks like your both having a great time.Love looking at your Blog its great.Hope Sions behaving stay safe.xx

[JenGog]

holiday
hi Pauline we are both fine how are you and garry . It is hot here and we have just cracked our windscreen . Typical luck the stone had to hit us . We are here for another two weeks xx