A few kilometers from Albarracin, after a night spent in this enchanting place, we get up when the sun already appears high in the sky. It is nine o'clock.
With my eyes slightly half-open, to remain as discreet as possible, I mischievously wonder: will I have my breakfast ready this morning without having to lift a finger? A crucial question for staying a few more minutes under the duvet. In Roulotte, it is difficult to cross paths.
Good excuse, isn't it?
Sitting warm with my steaming tea prepared with great care by Jean-Paul, hey hey, I see a young doe grazing a few ears of wheat in the neighboring field. Without a second thought, I take my camera out of its bag to immortalize the cheeky beauty.
Nice surprises
It is by focusing on the block of ocher sandstone to my left that an incongruous shape stands out from the cliff; could it be a colossal gargoyle? The rays of the sun, falling on this natural sculpture, highlight a character from another age. We didn't see it last night when we arrived, because the lighting was the opposite. Perhaps this is a taste of the trolls we might discover in Norway soon?
Recovering from my surprise, I try to take a few photos of the deer. It's not easy to photograph it as it is so stealthy. Very quickly, he disappears.
Discovering Albarracin...
It is also for these magical moments that we find it difficult to leave unusual places often discovered by chance. However, the mythical city of Albarracin is worth the detour, far from the overcrowded and touristy cities of Spain like Cordoba, Granada or Seville.
While everything is tidy, hoping that our Caravan will not be spotted, we entrust it to our stone giant before hitting the track again for Albarracin.
From afar, magnificently preserved fortifications elegantly climb a mountain culminating at 1,182m above sea level.
In the 12th century, Albarracin was a taïfa under the Moorish Banou Razin dynasty. During the Reconquista initiated by the Christians, the town was the site of terrible battles before coming under the control of the Catholic Monarchs.
...and its legends
This is how a legend was born in the Middle Ages, recounting this horrible period for the Albarracines. The village was then besieged by the Moors. Food reserves were diminishing rapidly, famine was setting in. The inhabitants feared that they would not be able to resist enemy attacks for long. In an act of desperation, they decided to sacrifice their last bull for food. At the moment of killing, the animal suddenly broke away. Frightened, he started running in all directions through the streets of Albarracín, dragging the rope that hugged him behind him. It was after long hours of a chase that the exhausted residents recovered him, thirsty. They did not kill him, quite the contrary, interpreting the obstinacy of the animal in wanting to live at all costs as a divine sign, so much so that they themselves fought with such tenacity against the besiegers, that they managed to repel the Moorish attack and save the city... for this time!
Medieval streets
Since then, every year, a local festival in September celebrates the legend of the “Torico de la Cuerda”. On this occasion, a small bull decorated with a rope is released into the streets of the village, symbolizing the courage and determination of its inhabitants to defend themselves against adversity.
For now, we park the vehicle in a paid parking lot on the side of the Guadalaviar bridge near the tourist office.
On our right, the main street climbs so steeply that we struggle to climb as our calves have softened. On each side, medieval houses made of reddish stone give a very special character to the place which has remained almost in its original state. There are still around a thousand inhabitants living here.
It was upon arriving at the birth of the ramparts that we decided to take tracking shots and panoramic shots in order to show our visitors all the beauty of the landscape.
Deep canyons
Below, the bed of the Guadalaviar, shaped over millions of years, hollows out a dizzying canyon that is difficult to cross. From our point of view, the strategic interest of this city for the populations of the time becomes obvious. Today, this place is still preserved. Many birds of prey come to nest there. Subjugated and disorientated, transporting me to this distant era, I leave my playing partner behind, whose shape is not the most Olympic. He reminds me of the scenario we imagined for the panoramic tour we are planning, and shows me his exasperation at having to take pictures again. It is true that since this morning, he has been complaining of a sleepless night caused by a cold or a cold contracted the day before.
Salvador Cathedral
Once the route to the fortress is completed, and the bad mood has passed, we head back down towards the imposing Moorish castle which dominates the village. The climb is also steep here. However, it is a treat to stroll through its picturesque streets and imagine “el Torico de la Cuerda” sliding down the slopes of Albarracin.
Today, the bells of Salvador’s cathedral announce an event, probably a wedding. Families and young people dressed to the nines, eager to hit the streets, head towards this place of worship built on an old Romanesque church from the 12th century.
Return to Roulotte
It is now time for us to replenish our water supply and find Roulotte. Except that Jean-Paul's condition is not improving, quite the contrary, and this is starting to seriously worry me, especially since I don't often drive the caravan.
Furthermore, Jean-Paul admits to me that if his condition is getting worse, it is undoubtedly because of the four expired Dolipranes that he has taken since this morning.
However, we return by the road leading to Bezas where traces of human occupation date back to the Paleolithic era. Moreover, prehistoric caves are noted in the guide. My worry persists for the moment; Will Jean-Paul be recovered tomorrow to visit them?
Note
Our goal is to bring you the luxury of satisfying your curiosity without moving, while immersing you in this unique space with breathtaking reliefs and colors.
See you soon dear visitors.
Write or read comments?