Albarracín Day 1

October 13, 2023

Albarracín is truly an exceptional town, but you’ll have to wait another day to see much of it. Today looks like the end of this remarkable spell of warm, sunny days we’ve been basking in for a month as rain is due to move in early tomorrow morning. Today’s definitely the best day then for getting out into the countryside.

Rachael plans a hike of course, but when we were planning out our day last night I was thinking I’d take a ride west to the origin of the Tejo/Tajo/Tagus River. I just liked the idea of being there at the start, and the photos I saw of the spot made it look worth seeing:

When I woke up though, a 42 mile ride with over 4,000’ of climbing didn’t sound as appealing after all. Better to get up above town and get a good look at it and its walls while conditions are attractive. So I quickly shift gears and talk Rachael into letting me join her on her walk, for at least the first part before she can’t take my plodding, stop-and-go pace any more.

Breakfast is very good but late-starting at our B&B, so it’s just turning ten when we prepare to leave. With the 13 mile hike Rachael’s planning that doesn’t really work paired with a midday meal, so for the first time of the tour we’re making dinner our main meal and have booked an 8:30 table at a nearby bar ristorante. It leaves us all day to walk as far and as fast or slow as we want.

Before we leave we go through our check-off ritual. House keys? Garmins? phones? Camera? Water? Snacks? Sunblock? Check x 8, so we’re good to go and immediately start climbing from the door of our inn. It’s perched at the very upper end of town, and five blocks later we leave it behind and face the gravel climb up to the hermitage, the first milestone of the walk.

Once we’re out in the full sun though I realize there was one more item on the list we (I) forgot: my red hat. It’s essential on a day like this when we can expect no shade at all, so I groan and head back to the room for it. Rachael groans too because it means I’ll need to keep the keys, which she doesn’t like because she prefers being in control of when she can get back to the room. It’s not enough reason for her to turn back though so she continues climbing.

So we’re each walking on our own after all. We won’t see each other again until we’re both back in town four hours later.

The walk starts with a climb to a small hermitage, Ermita del Carmen de Albarracín. Rachael’s already around the bend by I make it back to this point.

The hermitage stands in a privileged location with a sweeping view of Albarracín and its walls. You can almost see in this photo how convoluted the course of the river is here, with the town occupying a deep hairpin bend.

A close-up of the walls above town. On the way back I’ll be coming in from behind them, approaching town from the opposite side.

Another view from the the hermitage, along the wall below the town’s fortress above the river.

I’m standing at the hermitage admiring the views when the phone rings. It’s Rachael advising me that she’s decided to reverse direction on the loop at the far end of the hike and doesn’t want me to get confused. Also she warns me that it’s very windy up on top, and to take care so my red hat doesn’t blow away.

Behind the hermitage the trail follows a contour to round a bend and then continues climbing up the ravine of a small dry bed stream. About a mile into the hike I come to a saddle and trail junction. Above the field below me a flock of about twenty birds immediately scatters before I can get a look at them. My thoughts go to crested larks though, because they’re remind me of the first one I’ve ever seen just a few days back on a ride from Calatayud. I’m gratified when one stops not that far off from my and my hunch is verified.

The next step is a rocky slog up to that saddle up there.

Up on top, with a breather from the climb. Further out though, you can see the trail still climbing on the far side of that knoll.

A securely placed waypoint, with several tracks to choose from.

So is this just a cabbage butterfly then? It doesn’t look quite right to me and is quite small, but I can’t find anything else like it. Plus there are hardly any cabbages around up here but I’ve seen dozens of these.

Rachael was right - it really is windy up on top, so from time to time I mash my hat down again to make sure it stays put. I continue walking for another two miles, but eventually I decide I’ve gone far enough. The countryside all around looks pretty much the same from here, and I want to get back with enough energy to appreciate the fortified walls.

I walk back down from the high point I’ve stopped at, find a spot of ground to squat on in the shade of juniper, and munch on the dried figs and hazelnuts I’ve brought along while I watch Rachael’s progress on the GPS. I’m ready to head back to town, but first I want to make sure she’s turned back herself. Eventually I see that she has and am about to call when she beats me to it and calls first to say that I should feel free to start walking back if I want.

I decide to take the spur to the left to see what sort of view I get there, and once I’m up decide that’s as far as I want to go before turning back.

While I’m sitting having lunch I see a motorbiker coming in the distance, and am annoyed at myself that I don’t think of taking his photo until he’s passed. Fortunately I get a second chance when another comes along behind him.

Rachael made it about two miles further out than I did, and brought back a few photos from what I missed.

From Rachael. She’s up just a bit higher, and more into the junipers.

My walk back goes as slowly as the walk up - slower actually because it’s steep are the surface irregular in spots, and my knees don’t give me a lot of resilience. I don’t want to be up here with a turned ankle, and hope that Rachael’s being careful too.

It’s a fine walk down otherwise though, taking a different route back to town that brings me close to its walls and gives me attractive views down the river valley.

A scary looking plant, one I don’t recognize.

Looking down the Guadalaviar. At Teruel it will merge with the Turia, eventually reaching the sea in Valencia.

I get a dramatic approach to town, coming in from above its walls.

Looking across at a modern suburb of the town.

I get an excellent view of the cathedral from up here, with the citadel behind it.

This fearless guy comes barreling down the hill after me, making short work of the rough, loose surface I gingerly walked down.

I’m down off the hill by the entrance to town when the phone rings. It’s Rachael, at a junction a mile away asking about directions because there are two routes back to town - the way I’ve just come down, and backtracking past the hermitage. At the same time, this biker guy has stopped and is standing by me, taking into my other ear in Spanish. It doesn’t work well - I misunderstand where Rachael says she is, and steer her wrong so she comes back to town by the hermitage again and misses the views of the walls. Sorry, Rocky!

I at least satisfy the biker guy though, who’s been patiently waiting to ask me to take his photo in front of the town walls and cathedral. A half hour later Rachael’s back in town and we meet up in the Plaza Mayor for refreshments before going back to our room to wait another four or five hours for dinner - which unfortunately wasn’t actually worth the wait. Rachael picked this place because of the enticing trout dish listed on their small menu, but when the waiter hands the menus to us the first words out of his mouth announce that they’re out of trout. Very sad.

A late afternoon view of the cathedral from our deck. The weather is definitely changing.

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