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Published: October 23rd 2011
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Berlingo packed, we headed off on stage 1. We'd spent a bit of time planning where to go with a variety of maps and guide books and had decided to head for
Daroca. A small heritage listed town in the hills, it was supposed to a bit off the tourist trail, but excellent and worth a visit. This road seemed great, at least until we noticed that we were heading straight towards a huge fire. Soon enough, a policeman waved us down and informed us the road was closed.
No problem, we thought, as we tried out the 'avoid roadblock' function on the TomTom. After it had taken us down a few actual goat tracks and up a couple of driveways trying to get us to Daroca we gave up on it, and changed our destination. We headed for
Tarragona for lunch, passing through heaps of excellent little towns – sleepy in the heat, all the locals seemed to be sitting around in the shade, drinking. Maybe I would like this place.
Tarragona had been an important Roman town, and it still showed evidence of their buildings and layout. It's also the place where they build giant people stacks,
in front of one of the churches – no stacks when we went there, at least not that I could see. A very pretty place with atmospheric alleys and cobbled streets, and plenty of old stuff to see. We saw some some of it, at least the free stuff. Then we had lunch and a beer.
We also had to figure out where to camp for the night. In the end we ended up near a lake - Lake Caspe. A pretty lake, it had large warnings about black lipped mussels which folk from Darwin know all about.
It was our first test of the Welsh Gelert tent in Spain – and it failed. Oh, the tent was still excellent, but the ground was basically rock, so the pegs just wouldn't cut it. After bending most of them in half we figured that another trip to Decathlon was in order. The big Quechua tent went up. Eventually. It may have paid to read the instructions first but at least the pegs worked a little better.
From there we headed through Aragón, down towards Zaragoza where we stopped for yet another trip to Decathlon. Then back into the
Aragon country, through picturesque town after picturesque town. Each Town built hugging the closest hill; either a castle or a church commanding the high ground at the centre.
We eventually made it to Daroca, and it was worth the trip. Another place with Roman heritage, it still had a lot of its old walls intact, with the rest built into residences. Very atmospheric. Old, well kept, beautiful....and closed for siesta. The streets were deserted, a stray dog or two and the muffled laughter from behind the tightly closed doors of a tavern the only signs of life. Which was a worry – we were all starving. We managed to find one supermarket that was only just closing and got stuff for lunch, diving under the sliding roller doors like Indiana Jones in the Temple of Doom. Well, not so much, but we were cutting it close. Excellent jamon and cheese under the oaks. At least I think they were oaks – we were a bit at a loss here in Europe.
While we ate we worked out where to go, and decided to head for Cuenca – we'd been to one in Ecuador, might as well see another.
After trying for a while to get the TomTom to say something intelligent we gave up and used the map, taking CM210 through the hills.
It turned out to be an awesome road. Good surface, well signed, it snaked its way through some spectacular country for almost 200ks. From the hot, dry plains, up into the cooler pine forests, it was one of the best motorcycling roads I've ever seen. Even in the delivery van it was a pleasure to drive.
Cuenca, which none of us knew much about, was a beautiful old town. The campsite was a little bit of town, so we had to drive in a bit and find a park, but that was not particularly difficult, especially as I had Klaire to calmly point out that I should probably not be driving on the left.
Cuenca began as a fort built by the Muslim Arabs in around 714, so it had been there for a little bit. Atop a plateau scoured by wind and water, most of the old city was built in a dominating position atop the rock. Access in times past was bocked either by the sheer walls or the city
walls, so it was a secure town.
Walking around in the sun it was hot, as usual, but that made a quick step down an alley, or into a quiet plaza in the shade so much more special, like a cool drink of water. We parked in the lower part of town, and eventually made our way towards the old centre. The streets wound up the hill, past Roman ruins, imposing cathedrals, old alleys with crumbling masonry in an impressive setting.
The view from the top of the city was magnificent. You could see the old city arranged around a circular canyon like a huge Roman ampitheatre, and some of the houses were incredible, built out over the gorges, literally hanging into space. One in particular looked unreal. You could see it quite well from all the different viewpoints along the top. A 3 hundred year old house hanging into space above a huge drop. You could pay a chunk of euro to go inside but there really didn't seem much point – the whole thing was to see it hanging off the edge which was obviously best done from outside it.
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Slowfeet
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Nice to read posts about places we haven't been. Keep them coming.