Calatayud

October 4, 2023

We have stayed in so many remarkable places by now, but Malanquilla really stands out. I can’t imagine forgetting what it was like staying here, and we really recommend making your way here yourselves if you get the chance.

We’re higher up here, I think at the highest elevation we’ll lodge at on this trip. It’s was comfortably cool last night and there have been blessedly few insect pests, so we left the window open and enjoyed the fresh air. Which meant we could hear the few sounds outdoors as well, and this morning I was startled to hear the tinkling of goat or sheep bells - the obvious indicator of a drive underway. It was loud and clear enough that it sounded quite close by, but looking out I couldn’t see them. I assumed that they must be out of sight on the road in the depression below, but then I looked up and saw them marching toward the windmill, maybe an eighth of a mile away.

We’ve seen some spectacular sheep drives by now, but never one where we could just look out and admire it from the window of our room. It brought to mind the magical morning in Santorini years ago when we were wakened by a parade of donkeys walking across the roof of our inn.

Not a bad sight and sound to start your day with, not bad at all.

One man, one dog. It never ceases to amaze me.

Our room comes with breakfast, served down in the Gastro Bar starting at 9:30. That’s later than works well for us though, because we have a somewhat longer ride ahead and want to get an early start before the day gets too warm for comfort. We’re appreciative that our host offers to leave our breakfast out on the counter and in the fridge so we can start as early as we wish - which, predictably, is nearly 10 by the time we’re finally out the door.

He’s not watching now, but the neighborhood cat has had his eye on us as we pack to leave.

Our ride begins with a slight climb past the windmill and then a smooth, quiet drop for the next two miles until our lonely road ends at a primary road - N-234, a major national highway that begins in Burgos and ends at Segunto on the Mediterranean coast just east of Valencia. We’ll be on and off this highway several times in the next two weeks, electing it when it’s the only option to avoid serious hills or long detours. It sounds serious and does carry some truck traffic, but like many of the interior national roads in Spain it’s perfectly fine riding - two lanes, an abundant shoulder, respectful drivers. Really, we’d be fine biking it the whole way to the coast.

But it’s not as appealing as the narrow, virtually empty provincial roads that have no shoulder but no cars either that let you feel you’re immersed in the experience. So naturally I’ve mapped us to get off this thing and cross the low ridge separating us from the A-1502 as soon as we come to a paved connector, just two miles down the road. Unfortunately when I get there I find Rocky waiting there shaking her head. The road that RideWithGPS claims is paved is actually little more than a got track and begins with a traverse of a fairly large water trap. So that’s obviously not happening.

So we continue on the national road, with Rachael saying encouraging words about what a reasonable experience it is while I’m studying the map to see if there’s another connector ahead, one that might actually work for us. I do see one, branching off at Villaroya de la Sierra; so when we get there I call a halt long enough for me to study the map.

The abandoned Malanquilla train station hints at a larger existence in the town in the past.

We stop in Villaroya de la Sierra, debating whether we should snap up this prize and become settlers or continue on with the vagabond life.

There is a road, which looks like it connects with the Aragonese provincial I had in mind after only about five miles; and from the Garmin at least, it looks paved. So I make and win my case and we start off. A few hundred yards later pavement turns to dust so we stop and rediscuss things. I pull up the map on the phone and study the satellite view, see that it’s only five kilometers before pavement returns, and Rocky agrees to continue.

She’s none too pleased with the conditions though, and when we come to the first dusty hill steep enough to force a dismount she starts lodging Rockydarts®️ into the air at random, a few finding their intended target. It doesn’t take me long to conclude that the wise maneuver is to slow down and ride out of earshot for the next two miles.

Still, I cringe when we drop down from the first climb, come to a second one just as steep, and then a third before we’re finally back on pavement again. I’m apprehensive when I bike up to join her, but relieved to hear her acknowledge that it really wasn’t that bad and in fact was very pretty. And she’s right - it was a beautiful little stretch, paradoxically both the best and the worst miles of the ride.

Looking back at Villaroya from the top of the first ridge.

This is such an amazing part of the world.

So finally we’re back on the hard stuff again, and reaping our reward as it’s mostly a smooth, downhill ride all of the way to Calatayud. The first miles are on this quiet Aragonese regional road again which we have pretty much to ourselves, but once we get to Ateca we’re on another broad-shouldered national road that carries us the rest of the way in. And these last miles are stunners, first passing a colorful valley that reminds us of southern Utah and then following a few miles of white cliffs the rest of the way.

Moros, a ridge-top village that looks worth a look if it weren’t getting hot and time for lunch.

The typical look on many of these national roads. Really, most of them are a fine ride if you’re in a hurry.

Surreal beauty. We could be in southern Utah.

For reasons I can’t really explain, I’ve wanted to see Calatayud for a very long time. It was on the short list when I was planning out our ride from Nice to Lisbon over 25 years ago, and I’m excited to see the place at last. We’ll be here for four nights, taking our time to see the place and take in hikes and day rides, so there’s no rush in talking more about it now.

I do want to mention lunch though. We’re staying at maybe the best lodging in town, the Hotel Monestario Benedictino. It’s bike friendly, has reasonable rates and a well regarded menu, but it makes a poor first impression. The bike room is full because there’s a tour group overnighting tonight, so the bikes go in our small budget room with us - fortunately there’s an elevator, and it works! And we can’t have lunch here today because there’s a banquet on for some sort of large group of fifty or more guys, very loud and getting well lubricated at the bar while they wait for lunch to be served. Really, it’s deafening.

So our receptionist refers us to a nice, somewhat upscale restaurant nearby for what might be the spendiest meal of the tour (27€ each). The menu of the day has a half dozen mains to choose from and another half dozen entrees, with the entree section mysteriously subheaded ‘for the table’. We don’t understand what this means, and are perplexed when we identify our selection (revuelto with mushrooms) and the server shakes her head and tries to clarify things (she speaks no English). It finally registers that we don’t get to choose because we’re getting all of them, essentially a tasting menu as a starter. And it includes escargot, a choice I’m pretty sure neither of us would ever make but which surprises Rachael by being more flavorful than she expected.

Video sound track: I Wonder (Song for Michael), by Yasmin Williams

Heart

Comment

Link

Ride stats today: 33 miles, 800’; for the tour: 867 miles, 27,800’

Today's ride: 33 miles (53 km)
Total: 857 miles (1,379 km)

Rate this entry's writing	Heart	10
Comment on this entry	Comment	0