Puerto de Mazarrón

December 8, 2019

We were favorably disposed to Aguilas from our brief visit last night. I’m even more so disposed after we biked out of it this morning on a smooth bike way that looks like it would have carried us all the way to Calabardina, the next coastal town north, if we were headed all that way. It looks like it would be an attractive place to settle, really.

Leaving Aguilas, we passed this striking but anonymous complex. I wonder what it is. A modern mosque perhaps.

We follow the bike path for a few miles but then part ways with it. Calabardina looks like it would be an attractive destination, but it’s on a dead ended coastal road, off route. We’re headed into the interior a bit, toward a climb that looks from the profile like it will challenge us a bit.

First though we enjoy a peaceful ride across the flats for a few miles more, riding past one green expanse after another - lettuce, cabbages, young seedlings just sprouting up. We’re off the bike path now and onto the shoulder of the quiet highway. Pleasant riding, but soon we come to the turnoff for a smaller road we had wondered about but were unsure of because it looks possibly unpaved on the map. By chance, a bicyclist is just coming off of it as we reach the turnoff so we flag him down and ask about the surface. It’s fine, go for it he assures us in pantomime, and for the next five miles we’re on a beautifully quiet lane - just us and a few other cyclists - as we gradually approach the giant and seemingly impenetrable ridge to the north and try to tease out the path our route must cut through it.

The endless acres of plastic have been nice enough, but the green is a refreshing change.

Just made for cycling. This country is astounding - mile after mile of riding like this. The best.

Ten miles into the ride we leave this ultra quiet road and rise up to merge back onto the highway we left five miles back. It’s taken a bit longer arc to get here, and in the process has swerved close to the autovia and shed essentially all of its traffic. By the time we hop back on again, it’s nearly as quiet as the lane we just left.

For the next three miles we climb about a thousand feet, angling up the face of the great ridge through a partially hidden canyon we couldn’t see until we neared it. this climb looked on the steep side from the ride profile, but it keeps a steady grade and is not bad at all. A beautiful ascent that becomes more striking as we gain elevation.

Toward the top, we see the telltale sign of a climb on the racing circuit - shoutouts painted on the pavement not far from the summit. Yates, Porte, Valverde. Big names. This must be from La Vuelta, so I research it later when we get to our hotel for the night. The tour passed this way over a year ago, on 2018, stage 6. This is Alto del Garrobillo, a minor category 3 climb that I’m sure those guys hardly sweated over.

We’ll be going through that ridge, somehow. Hard to see where though.

Where’s Rachael? Hint - look in the cabbage. We can see our way through the ridge now, barely - there’s a diagonal line in the center of the range, angling up to the right.

We’re off our quiet lane now, and back on a regional highway that’s nearly as quiet. We hardly see anyone else on the way up - a few motorcycles, perhaps a car.

It’s quite a beautiful climb, with the views more dramatic with every bend.

Nearing the summit, just around that bend.

Giants have been here. Note that the paint still looks pretty fresh, 16 months after the tour passed through. Dry country, low traffic.

La Vuelta: Stage 6, 2018. The website describes this as a generally flat stage with a pair of minor climbs. One for the sprinters.

At the top we pause to admire another stunning vista, the sort of thing we’ve started taking for granted. Long views south along the coast, and straight down to the shore 1,500’ below us. Astounding country.

Looking at the map again, I see we’ve been biking through protected lands again, ever since we turned off onto that quiet road eight miles back. This is Cope Cape-Calnegre Headland Regional Park. The park was established to protect the 17 kilometer long untouched coastline between Calabardina (the coastal town the bike path from Aguilas continues on to) and Calnegre which we’ll soon descend to.

Over the top we enjoy a fast descent, nearly missing our turnoff to a tiny road that angles off toward Calnegre. I didn’t even see the road when we zipped by, but fortunately RideWithGPS alerted me that we were off route before we descended much past it.

The views from the pass are, as we’ve come to expect, astounding. We’re looking here south along the coast, a steep 1,500’ below. The park extends all the way south to Cape Cope, that large headland jutting into the sea.

Going down. It’s a very quiet road, but we’re both startled on our descent by a pair of MGs zipping through the curves, their tires squealing. They pass me first, and I worry about Rachael ahead. She said they gave her a wide berth though when they sped past.

Tomatoes and plastic. We’re dropping into a small agricultural basin by the shore before climbing out again.

Descending to the sea again, we bike about a mile beside the shore before finding a quiet spot to stop for lunch. It’s a bare sand beach, with nothing but the soft sand to sit on. We take our coats with us as beach blankets, and I anticipate an itchy experience in the company of hoards of hopping sand fleas; but there’s nothing like that. It’s quiet, still, perfect.

And secluded, at least at first. We’re the only ones on the beach when we arrive, but then another couple sets up an umbrella a hundred yards off. Then we watch with bemusement as a large hiking group slowly descends from the hills and eventually passes along the beach before us, walking singly or in twos or threes, chattering softly in Spanish. The most surprising thing about them to us is their attire. At first it looks like everyone in this group of about 25 walkers is dressed in a different pastel color, like a basket of Easter eggs tumbling down out of the hills. But no, finally at the end here come a couple, both wearing black jackets. They do have differently hued suspenders though, so the show is nearly perfect.

Lunch on a quiet beach, Calnegre. It’s very still today, with hardly a ripple in the sea.

The remainder of the ride lacks the grandeur of what came before, and a few miles before Mazarrón we join the real world again, sharing the road with cars for the rest of the way to town. The shoulder is fine though, the miles go quickly, and soon enough we arrive at Puerto de Mazarrón, the coastal partner of the historical mining town a few miles inland.

Mazarrón and the other communities lining its large bay have a deep history, largely centered around the vast mining resources here. It was settled by the Phoenicians, and then in turn fell to the Romans, the Moors, and finally the Christians. Through everything the region’s importance as a mining center persisted until its readily extractable resources played out a century ago. Now, as with so many places along the Spanish coast, it is slowly gaining new life as an agricultural and tourism center.

The surroundings of Mazarrón are deeply scarred by its mining past. Reminds me of Bisbee, Arizona - colorful, raw, slightly appalling.

Video sound track: Location, by Alvaro Soler

We arrive early enough in the afternoon to have time for a walk. My knees and feet are bothering me a bit, so I go at my own pace rather than slowing Rachael down. We walk south past the first headland and its lighthouse to the next cove, and Rachael continues on to the next cove beyond that. At my turnback point I sit on a bench looking back across the bay, rueing a bit the fact that my feet hurt, when it occurs to me that perhaps my shoes have gotten themselves laced up too tightly. I relace them, give my big feet a bit more freedom of movement, and enjoy a much more comfortable walk back.

For dinner we walk down to the sea again to a nice tapas place, one of the few spots open on this holiday Sunday evening. We shiver a bit on our way back to our room, happy that it’s only a few blocks away. It’s a clear night with nearly a full moon dropping slowly to the sea. The temperature really falls quickly once the sun drops below the horizon.

It’s been a brilliant day, much better than I’d been anticipating. This is the best sort of surprise - an unexpectedly fine ride right at the end, after you’ve started feeling that all the best is behind you.

Looking across the beach at Puerto de Mazarrón.

There are a few fish at Puerto de Mazarrón. The promenade is lively in the afternoon, with folks standing around tossing bread into the water and watching the feeding frenzy.

Looking back across the first headland south of Puerto de Mazarrón, which is hidden around the corner behind the lighthouse. There’s not exactly a trail up here, but a series of concrete way markers do point out roughly the edge, so you don’t wander too far off and tumble into the sea.

Looking across Salado, the next suburb south of town center. The headland opposite is the one in the photograph above.

Presumably an old mining relic, on the imaginatively named island In the bay in front of Salado: La Isla.

The tiny but colorful buoy just offshore from the port, presumably an alert to the small reef just before it.

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Ride stats today: 34 miles, 2,400’; for the tour: 2,293 miles, 96,200’

Today's ride: 34 miles (55 km)
Total: 2,293 miles (3,690 km)

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