If you take the road from Atzeneta direction Albocasser and head up towards Ares, you would be forgiven for thinking that you had stepped into another century.
The glimpse back in history unfolds with the emerging spectacle of this slim village perched high along a stony outcrop. At its end a mushroom-shaped rock rises in strking layers like puff pastry.
It is impossible to take a bad photo of Ares and if you deviate just 300 meters to enter this little jewel, you will be well rewarded. Each building is interesting, for instance, the smallest and oldest prison in El Maestrat – basically an slightly ominous door with a bleak cell behind it. To get an overview of Ares walk through the pine woods to the town’s cemetery. Stop and look back to see the town and its mushroom surrounded by mesmerising views.
15 years ago you could walk around the rock mushroom, albeit perilously. At points there was literally one person and a sheer drop of 200 meters or more into the valley below. The path was rocky and unstable, without any safety barriers to protect you and your possible demise over the edge. When I stupidly embarked on this hare-brained excursion, I clung fearfully to the mushroom. Being scared of heights did not help. Thankfully today there is a proper safe path, with proper safe railings and the mushroom has been actually hollowed out into a museum which never appears to be open?! Much like the bar on the main, I mean, only square.
Continue on towards Vilafranca, a pleasant drive between grassy fields and mountains defined by dry stone walls of a pattern unique to the highest regions of El Maestrat.
The ancient stone farms and solitary shepherds’ huts impart the feeling that nothing much has changed in many hundreds of years, which it hasn’t. That is until you look at the monstrous wind mills zigzagging along the top ridge and stabbing the skyline like robots from outer space.
So, I guess some city planner thought this was a good place to place them to capture the ideal winds? Just as it was a good idea to route the giant electricity pylons through this magnificent virgin area down to the sea for distant places? No one in the area benefits. No, not even those masias crouching in the shadow of modern technology, and noisy technology at that.
Vilafranca itself is a thriving town due to its logging and carpentry industries, not to mention an factory named Marie Claire. Please note this is not the French magazine but an exclusive Spanish underwear and leggings company. Yes, I too was wondering what Marie Claire was doing in the middle of nowhere!
That said, this town is an odd fish, for despite its commercialism, there are no bars of merit and absolutely no decent restaurants. Half of it is in a time warp, and the other provides cheap housing for the workers. The lousy bars thankfully maintain their old-fashioned charm, mostly due to lack of money for lack of custom. So even if a decent white wine is not to be had, just something urine coloured that tastes like rancid sherry, at least the settings are nice. Then there is a shopping street with a plethora of architectural gems that film scouts would die to set the film cameras on.
Leave Vilafranca and head across tree lined roads further inland, passing through a refreshingly green and lush landscape.
Soon you cross into the province of Teruel. The rugged, desolate beauty pierced by ancient stone hamlets and little bridges is unbearably romantic. You pass houses of drystone walls, their old roofs buckled with time and scattered with heavy stones to cheat the powerful winds. They appear to groan under the weight of the centuries and are all the more charming for it, blending seamlessly into the vista.
Soon you come to La Iglesuela del Cid, clearly once a powerful town with a plethora of grand mansions, one of which is now a beautiful hospederia. The grandest “palaces”, much grander than the jaw-dropping hospederia, have been locked up with their precious furniture many years ago by their uninterested wealthy owners. No wonder the place seems somewhat empty and that is sad because the architecture is outstanding, even details such as the roofs with their deep overhangs supported by ornately carved wood.
A river ran through its centre once, but it is now mostly dry, occupied by verdant allotments (huertos) due to numerous working wells and mini falls. Curious and appealing. Was this a deliberate move? For the rest, the only signs of life are a well-sized ham store, a small modernised bar on the outskirts where the obligatory local men hang out and a decent enough restaurant. Do not try the hospederia’s cuisine! It’s magnificent dining room belies the mediocrity that follows.
Instead drive on through ever more ancient hamlets and active homesteads to the pretty town of Cantavieja with its bars and restaurants. It is here that much of El Maestrat goes to have their vehicles MOT-ed. The “ITV” is cheap and if your car fails the exam, re-sits are free of charge! A garage just outside the town makes a tidy living correcting the failures on the spot. Then once it has passed, it’s time for a quick walk through the town, at times very cold with the high mountain winds, and then lunch before descending again to the lower plains – positively modern by comparison.
What better excuse than this to take a day outing?
Recently, while meandering along these mostly empty mountain roads, I had one of those “moments”. I thought I cannot believe that there are wars all over the world! Europe, the UK and their oppositional messes seemed a figment of my imagination; was Catalunya really bone dry? Was the path ahead that troubled? The panorama was so still, so empty, so untouched. So green despite the 3 year droughts in most of Spain. I swear my thoughts echoed in the vastness.
It is to Spain, but more symbolically here in Upper Maestrat where there are few distractions, that I came to get away from the present day as I knew it and discover a simpler life. But truthfully my life has not simplified for never has it had so many layers. I feel like the rock mushroom in Ares. That I am living in several worlds at the same time, the one I have sort of left behind, the one I am embracing, and that one I am trying to create. Mix into the pot the financial crises and the pandemic. It’s the old one step forward and one step back. Isn’t it John Lennon who said “Life is what happens when you are making plans”. Never a truer word(s) was spoken. Even if I do not discover a completely new way of life, I feel I am coming to discover who I really am. Yes, this sounds a tad melodramatic, but then no more so than the landscape around me.
Stunning Landscapes, hopefully I’ll get to see them in the not too distant future.
thank you James – I hope you do too.
What a beautiful meander through your countryside! As you say, the world is at war with itself, polarised, divided but was it always so? Now we witness every atrocity as it happens instead of reading our newspapers days, weeks afterwards. Thank you for your blue skies, green grass and calm.
Yes, that is true Ingrid. It always was, but there is a difference now. The weapons are so much more powerful and dangerous. To think that a missile can be launched from Russia to NYC and destroy it with pinpoint precision… Actually I don’t want to think about it!