It’s sunny. Yes, it’s Sunday. So am I. Let’s have a cup of tea.
Sunglasses were needed for the 90km drive across the flat land that spread as far as the eye could see. Ahead of us the ground gradually developed a mound and Eileen slowly climbed a small hill covered in scrubby, rocky landscape. Some chunky clouds crowded in. As we came over the rise of the hill we could see Avila surrounded by its magnificently imposing 11thC stone walls.
We found a perfect parking spot for Eileen, just below the southern walls, and then we strode through the Puerte de Malaventura to meander our way around inside. We found a lot of flag waving tour leaders being followed by bands of pilgrims. It seems that St Teresa of Jesus has made Avila a very important place for Catholics to visit, especially this year, being the 500th anniversary of her birth. But I think Rodney and I need to do a bit more research about the young lady who was so amazing that she was canonised immediately after her death. She apparently founded the order of Barefoot Carmelites in the 16thC, but apart from that, all that we found out was that she ran away from home and was captured by her Uncle. Neither of these events seem to warrant being made a saint, even with no shoes on?!
We also found the main square and the cathedral, but it took us a while to find the information office for a map. The building is tucked on the outside of the northern walls, hmmph. Before we left the fabulous city, we walked the sentry path along the top of the city walls with its 88 towers, 2,500 niches and numerous battlements. Not all of the 2kms of walls are open to walk on, but we walked all of the bits that are available. We saw storks nesting in various high vantage points along the way and when they wheel around in the sky above you, they look absolutely magnificent.
Between our perambulation of the northern and the southern walls, we wandered in to Tres Siglos Restaurante. It was just before 2pm and one side room upstairs was already full, but the main room was completely empty. We weren’t sure why, but the waiter walked us through it, down some stairs, through another empty room and in to a back room which was also completely devoid of customers. I wondered if we perhaps looked too scruffy, or did we smell…..? Nope, it was fine; within half an hour the room was completely full and we could see the room beside us filling up fast. By the time we left the restaurant every table in every room was filled and all the waiters were looking exhausted.
From Avila we drove south across the mountain range of Sierra de los Gredos and along part of the beautiful Embalse de Burguillo, the water of which was shimmering blue in the late afternoon light. We skirted the outer walls of Toledo (been there, done that last year) and continued on to Aranjuez. 287 kilometres were driven that day and a lot of walking too. It was 6:30pm by the time we pulled in to Camping International, the same campsite that we stayed in last year. We needed a lay day, so Sunday would be filled with washing, reading, cooking up a big cooked breakfast (at 11am) and a lot of chatting to Mary and Mike parked opposite us. Favourite quote from Mary of Worcester “It’s a shame you can’t get a decent Cheddar cheese in Spain”. Time, methinks, for a short stroll to reminisce about our visit to Aranjuez last year. We bought an ice cream and strolled around the palace gardens. There weren’t as many flowers as last year, not surprising as we are about three weeks earlier, but the fish were still swimming in their straight lines in the stream.
Leaving Aranjuez I spotted our first clumps of bright red poppies in full flower, it felt like a promise of warmer weather to come. On the endless, empty good roads of central Spain, you really can play the “Spot Another Car” game. We calculated approximately one car per kilometre in both directions. Drivers in England and Sydney could only dream of brilliant roads like these. At one point we even spotted a bit of tumbleweed blowing across the dual carriageway!
The World Heritage listed Ciudad Antigua (old town) of Cuenca is quite a spectacular sight. The mediaeval buildings seem to balance on the top of a rocky steep sided promontory and literally hang off the edges. We puffed our way up steep winding steps, followed a maze of tiny lanes, and continually marvelled at the views across the deep gorges of the Huécar and Júcar rivers on either side. After a thoroughly garlic-infused three-course lunch, we walked across the iron bridge over the Huécar river to the Convento de San Pablo, which is now a rather beautiful Parador. The view back towards the teetering Casas Colgadas, or hanging houses, is picturesquely gravity defying and it’s hard to not keep taking photos.
After a bit of a drive around the two gorges on either side of the city, we set off on another two hours of empty road driving; there were perhaps even less cars than this morning. A 6:30pm we arrived at Camping Kikopark Rural, situated above a lake, the Embalse de Contreras, close to Villagordo del Cabriel. We seem to be in the middle of nowhere and the sun is still shining.
