Bad weather was on it’s way. The tale end of Hurricane Helene, which had just hit Florida, was making it’s way across the Atlantic to Northern Spain. Having experienced quite enough rain on Tour 10 already we decided to drive south towards Castilla La Mancha. The weather forecast for that area was much better and, anyway, we had never been to that particular Region of Spain before.
On the way, still some 40 miles north of Madrid, we stopped at Gargantilla del Lozoya for the night. The full name of this small village is Gargantilla del Lozoya y Pinilla de Buitrago but you’ll understand if I refer to it simply as Gargantilla
We checked into the Camping Monte Holiday and I had it in mind to walk the few kilometres to the town of Lozoya on the Pinilla Reservoir. However, a couple of locals advised against it because of the threatened bad weather and instead; I made the much shorter walk along a dirt track road to the village of Gargantilla.
The dirt track road to Gargantilla del Lozoya…… and the map I had in case of difficulties
It didn’t take more than half an hour to reach the village and I enjoyed the walk. The track was clear and there were sufficient reference points along the way (the reservoir and a railway line) to keep me on the right heading.
The village is small with just over 300 inhabitants and it holds little of interest other than a bus stop, a tiny church (Iglesia de San Benito) and a very friendly bar.
I sat in the bar nursing a couple of small beers for a good hour. It was fairly busy and there was a great atmosphere about the place. A group of four elderly men were playing small stakes dominoes at one of the tables and there were two other younger groups at the bar vying good naturedly with each other for the barmaid’s attention (or was it her company). The beer was good and a small tapas accompanied each drink. It was as good an example of a local bar as I have seen in Spain.
The walk back to the campsite was considerably quicker. I’d forgotten I had reserved a table in the campsite restaurant.
I made it back to the campsite in time and ordered a couple of drinks. I chose a beer while Vanya opted for Coca Cola. Those two drinks came to 5 Euros (with the coke costing more than the beer) but then some tapas arrived – 4 plates of tapas, free with the drinks. If they’d brought any more to the table, we would have had to cancel the meal; as it was we didn’t bother with a starter. Value for money or what!?!
And so to Haro; arguably Vanya’s favourite place in Spain.
This must have been our 4th or 5th trip to Haro in as many years. I’ll, therefore, keep this entry short. For more information on Haro you need only review my earlier blogs on the town.
We arrived in Haro this time during the late afternoon on a Wednesday and we found it the quietest we had ever seen it; not that I’m complaining. We divided our time that first evening on the Plaza de la Paz and wandering the tapas area before settling on an early night back at Campingred de Haro. I think the drive across Aragon had taken it out of me.
The next day was more like the usual Haro. The day commenced with us replenishing our supplies down at the Mercadona and then spending a leisurely hour or two over lunch in the courtyard of the Muga, sampling the wine and local cheeses (and some not very nice mussels but the less said about that the better). The Muga is fast becoming a regular feature of our visits to Haro and the afternoon was as pleasant an occasion as ever. We received a real surprise as we were leaving when one of the kitchen staff shouted out a goodbye to “Mr Bean” (Beanie). He remembered us from our previous visit to Haro in the Spring.
The Thursday evening was a repeat of the previous night with us dividing our time between Plaza de la Paz and the tapas area but it was an altogether livelier occasion. Of course it was a Thursday and, as in Calle del Laurel in Logrono, the locals tend to celebrate Thursdays with a few drinks and a tapas. It’s a bit like Thursdays in the UK used to be when most people received their pay packets on the Thursday afternoon. Showing my age now.
There were considerably fewer tourists in Haro during this visit and we spent much of the evening talking to the locals (Nala and her walking wheels attract a great deal of attention) and so it proved a late night. The streets were all but deserted as we made our way back to the Van after a very pleasant evening.
We were still heading west towards Galicia and our next overnight would be in Haro in the La Rioja Region. On the way, however, we made an impromptu stop at Belchite which is a 40 mile drive south east of Zaragoza in Aragon.
A small town of just under 4,000 people in 1937, it was the scene of a bloody 13 day battle during the Spanish Civil War between Franco’s Fascist Nationalists and the Communist Republicans. The Republicans won the battle for the town but it was a pyrrhic victory with between 5,000 and 6,000 people being killed and; at the end of the war, which was won by the Nationalists, Franco demanded the town be left in ruins as a living monument to the destruction he said was caused by the Republicans invading the town. He further insisted that Republican prisoners build a new town (Belchite Nuevo) down the road.
The ruins of Belchite Viejo (and those of nearby Roden) have been left almost exactly as they were after the battle although, more recently, the old town was fenced off (because of vandalism and increasing safety concerns) and may now only be accessed by prior appointment and with a tour guide. That is not so easy when the decision to visit is made so spontaneously and when there is only a short window of opportunity in which to visit. Having said that, I found a hole in the fence and had a good scout around before bumping into an official tour party and having to scarper.
These letters announce Belchite Nuevo
The following three photos were taken just outside the official entrance into Belchite’s ruins on Plaza Goya. Nothing was open and there was no official about to advise as to how I could gain entrance. A coach driver parked up near where I left the Van referred me to the town hall but it was closed.
“Memory & Peace” on Plaza Goya.This arch is the start of the official tour…… and the Convent of San Agustin
Having found a way into Belchite Viejo, my first thoughts were that it’s an unsettling place, particularly in the area of the 15th century Church of San Marin (San Martin de Tours). It’s so full of tragedy. The church served as a shelter during the height of the battle and a number of people who sought protection there were buried under tons of rubble after the church dome collapsed during a Republican bombing raid. I read that some remain there to this day.
If little remains of the Church of Saint Martin, there’s even less remaining of the neighbouring 18th century Convent of San Rafael where Dominican nuns used to care for orphaned girls but, in truth, the same can be said of the whole town. It was devastated and the ruins are as shocking a reminder of the misery of war as I have seen. Even now, more than 85 years later the horrors of what took place in Belchite continue to surface. Euronews reported as recently as October 2021 that the Spanish authorities had unearthed the bodies of dozens of men and women who were believed to have been executed by Nationalists in Belchite at the start of the war. The hands and feet of many were bound and some showed signs of having been tortured.
Devastation in front of Iglesia de San Martin de Tours
At the centre of the town in the Old Square (Plaza Vieja) is a 14th or 15th century clock tower built in the Mujedar style. It is all that remains of the Church of Saint John. Alongside it is an imposing “Iron Cross of the Fallen”. The cross was raised by the same Republican prisoners who built Belchite Nuevo and it sits on the same spot where so many of the fallen from both sides were subsequently cremated.
Iron Cross of the Fallen & Clock TowerClock TowerIglesia de San Martin de ToursNo building escaped the destruction…… most are pitted with bullet holes.Calle Mayor… and then I stumble upon an official tourWhat remains of the dome of St Martin’s Church (not my photo)
And the new town? There’s little of interest in Belchite Nuevo except perhaps for it’s current population of 1,500. Some sobering street art perhaps?
We stopped in Mequinenza to make use of the town’s municipal campsite while driving across Aragon towards Asturias and Galicia.
Mequinenza is a small town of just over 2,000 people on the eastern edge of a reservoir known as the Mar de Aragon (the Aragon Sea). It’s a relatively new town built to the north of Mequinenza Castle after the River Ebro was dammed in the 1960’s. The original town, which dated back to at least the time of Julius Caesar, lay south of the castle. Most of it was destroyed when the reservoir was created although the Maria Quintana Ferragut School now serves as the area’s history museum.
Mequinenza’s old church…… and now.
The area has a rich history not least because of it’s small castle which was built by Berbers late in the 12th century but changed hands many times during the Christian-Muslim wars and again during the course of various internal Spanish wars in the 16th and 17th centuries. In 1810, during the Spanish War of Independence (the Napoleonic Wars to you or me) the castle was attacked yet again; by troops under the French General Suchet. An unsuccessful but spirited defence by just 1,200 men against Suchet’s 14,000 led to Mequinenza being listed among the victories inscribed on Napoleon’s Arc de Triomph in Paris. The castle figured briefly during the Carlist Wars but subsequently fell into disuse, except as a Republican prison during the Spanish Civil War, and it is now owned by the Spanish utility company ENDESA (which Company restored the castle to it’s current state although it doesn’t much resemble the original castle). It’s possible to visit the castle but only by prior appointment with ENDESA.
Mequinenza Castle as it is now.
Mequinenza was at it’s most prosperous during the early 20th century, when coal mining was the area’s principal industry, and it’s population almost doubled to 4,200 (mostly miners). Of course, that short period of economic success ended during the 1960’s, as Franco steered Spain towards hydro-electric power and damned the River Ebro. The new town is now focused towards sport (rowing and kayaking) and leisure (fishing) with fishing being the town’s principal attraction.
It is believed the reservoir contains more than 50 million fish, including Black Bass, Royal Carp and, most impressive, the giant Wels Catfish, which regularly grow to more than 2 metres in length and weigh over 100 kilos. The current record in this area is a catfish measuring 2.61 metres and weighing 115kg. I stopped for a beer in one of the local bars and noticed some photo montages on the wall. Take a look at those…
Big fish…… or what?!?
We were staying in the camping site for just the one night (at 13 euros per night) but, we were fortunate to arrive during a local celebration. We didn’t need a second invitation…
We’d journeyed from Germany, through Switzerland and France, to Spain to escape the constant rain which seems to have been a feature of Northern Europe this last year. That was a good decision with the weather in Sitges (Catalonia) proving fine and the forecasts in Galicia and Asturias, in the far north west, looking even better. We decided to make our way to Galicia next (provided the weather stayed fine) by way of Aragon, Navarra, La Rioja and Castilla y Leon. Our next overnight stay would be in the small Aragonese village of Mequinenza, a 2.5 hour drive west.
We were almost halfway to Mequinenza when, looking for a place to stop for lunch, we discovered the small fortress town of Montblanc at the edge of the Prades Mountains. The town was founded by Alfonso I of Barcelona (Alfonso the Chaste) during the 12th century to protect the road between Lleida and Tarragona and it clearly prospered; as is evidenced by it’s huge church and various other impressive buildings. I don’t understand how I could have previously overlooked such an interesting place. It really is a hidden gem.
I parked just outside the medieval town walls close to the Convent de la Serra (on Paseo Josep Conangla) to take a quick look at the large church near the top of the town. There’s a sizeable flat topped mound just inside the town walls which provides views over the city and towards the Prades Mountains but the view of the back of the church (the Iglesia Santa Maria La Mayor) is less than impressive and for a moment I was tempted to return to the Van. I’m so glad I didn’t.
My first view of the church…… and a closer viewFine views over the town…… plenty of the old walls remain.
When I say ‘less than impressive’, I actually mean ‘odd’. It’s a mishmash of styles and, well, on the outside at least has a wholly peculiar appearance. The back of the church can be counted amongst the least attractive of any church I have seen. This can all be explained in that it started life as a small Romanesque church dedicated to Santa Maria and as it’s congregation grew, work began on a Gothic style expansion. This expansion was frustrated by the Black Death (the Plague) which devastated the town in terms of the population and money with which to finish the church and so one side of the church was simply bricked up without any ornamentation. When work resumed in the 17th century an ornate Baroque facade replaced much of the Gothic facade, which had never been finished because of the Plague and had also been damaged during the Reapers War, leaving us with the confused architectural structure that is now the Iglesia de Santa Maria La Mayor de Montblanc.
Don’t misunderstand me. The church still has much going for it. It just looks less than impressive from the back. The front of the church, with it’s Baroque style facade with Renaissance influences, is stunning. It also has some beautiful chapels (another sign of the town’s previous affluence) and a bell tower which it is possible to ascend.
The entance on a pebbled square……. is sumptious.The high altar…… the altar and some fine stained glass.
I said bell-tower but it is not a tower as such. You actually climb stairs to a roof terrace where a half dozen or so bells are situated. Timing is everything and as I was climbing the stairs, the bells chimed for 11am. Let me tell you, they were loud.
The roof terrace…… of the Santa Maria La Mayor…… and some of the bells.The views over the town from the church.
I had stayed too long in the church already but had to see a little more of the town before returning to the Van for lunch which Vanya was preparing (had long finished repairing) and; I might as well get hung for a sheep as a lamb. No, it was a cold lunch and I was okay for a while yet. Thank goodness for cellular phones.
Montblanc’s old town centre is enclosed in some of the best preserved medieval castle walls to be seen anywhere in Spain and the narrow cobbled streets I followed on my way to the main square proved much the same. Higher buildings than is usual for such a rural part of the Region provided yet another example of the town’s previous wealth and, given how hot the day had already become, made for refreshingly cool streets.
There were a surprising number of people out and about; both on the streets, where local women were chatting excitedly with friends or neighbours they had chanced upon while on their way home from whatever it was they were doing and; in the Placa Mayor, where local men (their husbands?) were drinking beer andarguing and laughing loudly together. It was that happy, cheerful time of the day shortly before the afternoon siesta begins and after which the town centre would suddenly and quickly empty. I’m not trying to typecast men and women with that description but, the whole scene simply took me back to my childhood in Cyprus and Kenya where much the same scenes were played out almost every day before us kids were sent off for an afternoon nap. I really hated that time of the day.
It was time to get back to the Van. The return journey took me back past the church.
This was only a short stop but it proved a pleasant surprise and I would gladly revisit Montblanc. Also there is a World Heritage Site, the Monastir de Poblet, just 9 kilometres down the road that could be worth visiting.
Oh, and I don’t think I mentioned that according to local legend, Sant Jordi (Saint George) killed his dragon in Montblanc. It’s known as The Golden Legend in Catalonia. I reproduce below what I read about it:-
It seems that “Saint George was travelling on horseback when he came to Montblanc, which at that time was being terrorized by a large dragon. In order to appease the dragon the townspeople had started to give it 2 sheep each day. When sheep weren’t enough they were replaced by human sacrifices. The king decreed that the person to be sacrificed should be chosen at random. Finally the day came that the king’s beautiful daughter was chosen for sacrifice.
The king tried to bargain with the townspeople but they insisted that the princess should be sacrificed as their children had been. Dressed as a bride, the princess was led to the dragon’s lair when, by chance, Saint George arrived at the town. St George asked the princess what was happening and she told him about the dragon and asked him to leave before he was hurt. Instead of leaving the princess to be eaten, St George fought and slayed the dragon.”
Clearly the people of Montblanc believe this legend because every year during April the town stages a week long Medieval Fair which includes a medieval feast, jousting tournaments, a correfoc and a re-enactment of the legend of Sant Jordi. That would be fun.
I was last in Sitges some 20 years ago for a conference with my then employers and, from what little I saw of the town at that time, I liked the place. It was always going to be interesting to see how much the town has changed over the years and during this visit I would get two chances to check the town out; the first would be during the day on my own and the second in the evening with Vanya and our two dogs.
The day started with me walking some 15 minutes or so past the golf course and through a very pleasant residential part of the town to one of Sitges’ beaches, the Platja de Terramar. There I joined the wide palm lined promenade (the Passeig Maritim) and headed east for a further 15 minutes to the 17th century Eglesia de Sant Bartomeu i Santa Tecla (that’s Catalan for the Church of Saint Bartholomew and Saint Tecla). This route took me past what is often called the Platja de Sitges but it is in fact a series of 7 different beaches (each separated by groins); the Platja de la Barra, the Riera Xica, L’Estanyol, the Bassa Rodona, la Ribera and finally the tiny Platja de la Fragata. There are three more beaches to the east side of the church which lead all the way to the harbour (the Platja Sant Sebastia, the Platja dels Balmins and finally the Platja Aiguadolc) but I decided to leave these beaches to a later visit. For information only, I found out later that there are a few nudist beaches in Sitges and one of them is on the Platja dels Balmins.
The beaches I saw during the walk are all blue flag clean and mostly sandy. They are as good as any to be seen in this part of Spain and at this time of the year are mostly empty. The busier ones, complete with street hawkers selling fake designer handbags and trainers, are at the church end of the Passeig Maritim where most of the restaurant-bars and, of course, the old town are located. Given it was mid September, I was surprised at how busy the bars were but; perhaps I shouldn’t have been with Ryan Air currently flying into Girona from Belfast, Cork and Dublin for as little as £40 return. There were probably more Irish in Sitges during our visit than any other nationalty.
The Church of St Bartholomew and Saint Tecla is Sitges’ most recognisable landmark; so much so it is known locally as La Punta – the Point. The church was closed during my previous visit and it was the same again this time. It’s shame, if only because the views from any one of the bell tower or the clock tower will, I think, be exceptional. I read that the local museum used to run tours of the church which includes an ascent of the bell tower but I don’t know if that is still the case.
While the vistas from the nearby ‘Palau de Maricel’ (the Maricel Palace) don’t quite match those of the church, they do afford some fine views over the Mediterranean; especially from the rooftop terrace and cloisters. The ‘Palace’, by the way, is the ‘must see’ place in Sitges. Built between 1910 and 1918 by artist and engineer Miguel Utrillo at the behest of US tycoon Charles Deering (of the Combined Harvester Family), it was part of a complex which would become home to Deering and serve to showcase his growing art collection. It didn’t quite happen. The two men fell out in 1921 over certain financial irregularities and Deering closed everything down and moved back to the United States. Much of the complex was subsequently dismantled and sold off piecemeal with the City of Sitges buying the current ‘Palace’ in 1954. Inside and outside it is quite spectacular…
After exploring La Punta, I started back along the Promenade but only as far as the ‘A Facundo Bacardi’ monument (Bacardi being someone born in Sitges who emigrated to Cuba and then created the well known white rum which bears his name) and then turned deeper into the old town of Sitges by way of Carrer Primer de Maig. Sitges’ old town isn’t as large as many others (especially having regard to the size of the city – it has a population of about 30,000) but it is equally charming.
Moving deeper into the old town…… by way of the Bacardi Monument
The wholly pedestrianised Carrer Primer de Maig de 1838, also known as Carrer del Pecat (Sin Street in English) is one of a handful of streets at the heart of Sitges’ nightlife. The street is not as bad as the sobriquet suggests (well, not before midnight anyway) and during the day it really is a most unassuming street that you could safely take the most prudish grandmother down.
Having said that, I’m uncomfortable with those hotels which openly declare they are open only to gay couples. Sitges has long been a truly cosmopolitan city where everyone is welcome irrespective of their gender or sexual proclivity and I recognise that the LGBTQ community has lent the city a great deal of spirit and colour but if this isn’t discrimination, it is certainly boorish behaviour and should be censured.
Rant over. Back to the visit. I wandered much of Sitges old town for a while longer and then stopped for a quick beer in one of the backstreet bars before making my way back along the Passeig Maritim to collect Vanya and our dogs for the evening sortie into the city.
One of many quiet streets…… and one of many local bars.It’s a long way back down that beach to the Van.
There are definitely two sides to Sitges. Day and night in Sitges are different as chalk and cheese and, well, as different as day and night. The days, at least in the closed season, are generally quiet, slow and relaxed. It’s as much about lazing on the beach or strolling the promenade as anything. Yes, there is the odd juvenile boozer who seems to have confused Sitges with Ayia Napa but, fortunately, such types rarely have the capacity to last.
Then there’s nighttime. We stayed only until midnight but saw enough to recognise that the city is transformed at night. There’s a wide variety of bars and restaurants (with cocktail bars presiding) and there are also numerous nightclubs, most of which stay open well into the early hours of the morning. Of course the nightclubs are dominated by the gay community but, so far as I am aware, they are generally open to all and they are great fun.
For our part, Vanya and I were happy enough sitting on a terrace outside a bar in the old part of the city; enjoying a bottle of wine, people watching and soaking up the atmosphere of what is clearly a very vibrant city. We had found a place to eat right in the centre where the Carrer Primer de Maig meets the Carrer del Marques Monttroig and is crossed by the Carrer de Joan Tarrida. I’d recognise it again by it’s colourful umbrellas and by the way the seats of all the chairs at the tables are pointed towards the centre of the crossroads This pedestrianised crossroads was a hive of activity all the time we were there and it was a fun place to be. We would have been quite happy sitting there eating our good (but somewhat expensive tapas) and watching the world go by but our evening was further enhanced by a young acrobatic troop and dancers who entertained us at the crossroads for over an hour.
Just look at the way all the seats are arrangedImpromptu acrobatics…… and impromptu street dancing.
It strikes me there’s an open, accepting and more relaxed atmosphere about Sitges at night. It’s comfortable. I think perhaps the good humour of so many people intent on enjoying themselves has a healthy, positive effect on others. It’s nice to think so.
Of course it may be different during the early hours of the morning, once the nightclubs are in full sway. We were not going to find out this trip. We had our dogs with us and so could not take advantage of the nightclub scene even if we wanted too but; there was time enough for one last leisurely stroll around the quieter parts of the city and that last half hour wandering the silent empty places, away from the busy cheerful bars and clubs, was as enchanting as anything we had experienced in Sitges. A couple of the following photos perhaps reflect that?
