Mora de Rubielos

October 19, 2023

I feel so near to the howling of the winds / I feel so near to the crashing of the waves / I feel so near to the flowers in the fields / I feel so near. — Dougie McLean

It really feels like the trip is winding down when we leave Teruel this morning. We’ve only got five more traveling stages until we reach Valencia, and then after a four night stay there we’ll head home. All the hardest stages I’d worried about are behind us now but there’s still some sting left in the route beginning with this ten mile climb starting right from town.

That’s not quite accurate. The hardest climb of the day comes right within the city, after we’ve only gone a few blocks and hardly warmed ourselves up. After dropping down near the river we start climbing steeply in a half mile long stinker that reminds me again that I wish I had a full complement of gears - which is why we’ve delayed our start to time to the 10 AM opening of the bike store that’s just a few blocks off our route in the neighborhood atop this climb.

When we arrive there at 10:10 though the shop is still shuttered and there’s a guy standing outside waiting. Abierto, I ask him, proud to show off my mastery of the language; but he shakes his head in the negative. We get ready to just bike on when he pulls out his phone to call someone and then informs us that it will open in ten minutes.

We’re not biting though. We know what that could mean. Ten minutes could easily turn into a half hour before anyone can even look at my bike, and before we know it the day could be heating up with still a ten mile climb ahead. So we bike out of town and soon settle in on a long, steady climb. I’ve got nearly all my gears after all, and we’re almost to the stable now.

Looking back. The climb isn’t bad, nothing like that first bit before leaving town; and the road is quiet. Not much more than a super wide bike path, really. All the traffic is down below on the autovia apparently.

At the summit I stop for a last look back toward Teruel before crossing the ridge and it disappears.

It’s a false summit though. There’s a slight drop and then a bit more climbing before the real apex. Doesn’t look too challenging though.

Here’s the real summit, with a sign to prove it. Not the most scenic spot though as we’ve drawn parallel with the autovia so I don’t ask Rachael to scale the fence and go stand next to the sign for a trophy shot.

The next five miles are an arrow-straight downhill shot as we start dropping off the other side. It’s noisy and none too scenic as we stay right next to the freeway the whole way crossing a wide open plateau, but it’s surprisingly dramatic because the wind is blowing pretty fiercely forcing us to moderate our speed and concentrate on not getting blown over by the crosswind.

It’s exhilarating though and brings Dougie McLean’s song to mind, one we heard him sing a couple of times at concerts in Portland years ago. He would talk about the fierce, raw environment on the Isle of Harris as an intro to it. A part of me always wanted to bike the Outer Hebrides, but I don’t think that’s likely to happen now at this point in life - and if I did, I’m pretty confident it would be as a solo jaunt.

The quality of the ride takes a couple of quantum leaps when we come to La Puebla de Valverde, leave the empty but broad national highway we’ve been on all morning and turn west. The crosswind we’ve been wrestling with is suddenly our best friend now, the noise of the freeway quickly recedes behind us, and the scenery we’re biking into turns glorious.

Entering La Puebla de Valverde. From here on out it’s a glorious ride. Look at the names of those towns down the road though!

Sunny, dry, and downhill with a tailwind. No complaints here.

We’re gradually dropping toward our destination for the night, but beyond the contours of the mountainous Maestrazgo region rise up.

It’s not all downhill, but the tailwind levels out the few rises.

Dropping into our village for the night: Mora de Rubielos.

We’re definitely going the right direction at the moment.

Did La Vuelta pass through here this year?

Video sound track: Cast Your Fate to the Wind, by Quincy Jones

We arrive in town just past one, earlier than expected. Our hotel won’t open to us for another hour at least, so we head straight for the restaurant Rachael scoped out for today’s lunch. When we get there though we find that Google Maps is lying to us again and they’re not open. So we pull up the map on the phone to see what else is nearby and allegedly open and then wheel off to a second nearby restaurant only to find that Google Maps is having some fun with us there too.

So we settle on the only place we saw open, the bar next to the church. We lock up the bikes in the portal of the closed church and take a seat at an outdoor table on the plaza, but within two minutes the sun goes behind the clouds, it’s suddenly cold and windy, and we quickly move inside. Where we find a terrific place full of the best kind of character and enjoy a shared goat cheese salad and a pair of satisfying raciones.

In Mora de Rubielos, not to be confused with nearby Rubielos de Mora.

We settle on a bar seeping in character, and are well served.

I forget what these combination plates were called. Hers featured cod and shrimp, and mine beans, bacon and Teruel ham.

It’s nearing three when we leave the bar and bike the two blocks to our hotel, where we are greeted and directed to bring the bikes in and lean them against a wall. Our room has a huge bed again, I think the fourth such since arriving in Aragón; and it has without doubt the largest private balcony we’ve ever been allocated.

We take our naps, then I go out for a walking tour of the small town and come back to sit on the balcony and work on the blog and cull through photos while Rachael goes out for her own look. I’m totally engrossed in what I’m about when the phone rings. It’s Rachael, instructing me to drop whatever I’m doing and go look at the sunset. Which I do, and not a minute too soon as I arrive at a viewpoint above town by the castle just in time to see the amazing crimson bleed out of the sky.

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Ride stats today: 27 miles, 2,100’; for the tour: 1,236 miles, 49,000’

Today's ride: 27 miles (43 km)
Total: 1,226 miles (1,973 km)

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Rich FrasierWe probably bumped shoulders with you at one of those Dougie McLean concerts. We saw two at the Hollywood Theater, if I remember correctly. Robin and I still play "Ready for the Storm" to this day...
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1 year ago

Scott AndersonTo Rich FrasierI’ve been trying to remember where we saw him perform. It could have been Hollywood, but I think at least once was at the Aladdin. Those were sure great years for music in Portland.
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1 year ago

Andrea BrownHe came to Corvallis too, and I ushered at the concert. Afterward he gave me a copy of the album 'Riof', which is probably still around somewhere. Then we all traipsed across the street to the pub and more local musicians showed up and jammed with this great fiddler and singer/songwriter. An unforgettable evening.
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1 year ago

Scott AndersonTo Andrea BrownWell, now I’m envious. Great story.
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1 year ago