Life: Idiotropic

Surprises happen here.  Though Spain's Constitution is younger than me, life has been going on here since before Christ's birth and so, as with any old country, little treasures just appear here and there without warning.  Today was one of those treasure hunts, a drive without a destination really... just an idea that turned out to be better than expected.

Santi is my informant.  He's the ever cheerful boy behind the counter at my favorite coffee shop, the enabler of my caffeine addiction and the pusher of all things sweet that I must try because it's something new.  He's also my local font of knowledge.  Santi knows things.  He told me about Albarracin and Navajas.  Then he told me about Montanejos.  So away we went today knowing that Santi woudn't steer us wrong.

The drive up the A-23 is easy until you exit.  My GPS tells us we're almost there, but between us and Montanejos is a up and down twisty turny stomach churning mess of a road though a gorgeous landscape.  The landscape makes the uneasy stomach worth it as do the little fountains on the side of the road like this one that are just there seemingly in the middle of nowhere where people can come and fill up their bottles and jugs with clean, fresh, ice cold water for free.

Montanejos is a small village known for the warm mineral springs that surround it.  A spa town, there is an abundance of senior tourists there partaking in the therapeutic/healing baths.  In fact, I walked into what was labeled as a tourist office to find a the staff behind the counter wearing white lab jackets and calling forth the "patients" from the waiting room to go have their treatments.  The "tourist" area was a tiny counter off on the side with brochures behind glass.

From some of the regal homes now sitting in disrepair, it is evident that the town once enjoyed a bit of prosperity.  I crossed the bridge over the clear shallow water  of the Mijares river to see a school of large fish swimming below.  They seemed tame and we wondered why no one was fishing for them.  Are they edible?  Are they protected?  I asked an older man who was crossing the bridge.

Well into his 80's, he didn't want to answer my questions, but did want to talk.  "My life is a mystery," he repeated several times telling me about his time in the War and his illness and his cure, how there used to be four big orchards on the hill and the city was wealthy once.  He even talked about his first bicycle and the first motor car in town.  But as much as I love to talk to locals and to learn, it was so hard to understand him.  It could have been his dialect or his slurred "old person" way of speaking, but I only got about 60% which was ok, but not enough.  Too many details lost.


This house was my favorite.  Three stories in front with a nice patio, an old lady swept it while her cat watched from below the table.  She had beautiful flowers growing from pots and a neat row of fruit trees growing along the path from her home to the street.  The back became four floors and overlooked the fields and the pretty río Mijares.

The old city center is the typical maze of tiny streets and sandwiched homes that is typical of old Spanish towns.  These creep up the hill as well and, also typical, small gangs of stray cats hang out at dead ends and street corners.  Five call this covered tractor home.

The bridge leading from the town to a path that leads up the mountain to an old castle ruin was built in 1803 over what was then the Montan river.  Now a dry bed, the bridge still stands connecting the two hills.  It's called the San Jose Bridge-Aquaduct because a small irrigation channel within takes water to the small pueblo of La Alqueria nearby.  Two ceramic panels in the center show paintings of the Virgen of the Dispossessed on one and San Jose on the other.

We crossed it considering briefly to continue up the hill to the castle, but the sign said that it was a 2 hour walk.  A nice couple from Madrid chatted a while.  They said it wasn't far, but the climb was very steep.  Neither of us continued.

Hunger isn't a problem in Spain if you're flexible.  People complain about the rigid hours and yes, it's true that restaurants don't open for lunch until 2:30, but if you're happy with some tapas or a sandwich, then you can eat nearly any time of day.  So, hungry, we sat at the bar at the hotel with a continual ebb and flow of senior citizens through the doors.  Good coffee and a great sandwich.  Cheap and good.  I don't remember what my sandwich was called, but it had steak, ham, and caramelized onions on it making it moist, flavorful, and delicious.  The perfect midday snack for me.

Thanks to Google Maps, I knew that there was something pretty somewhere around the town, but I didn't exactly know where.  Thankfully, I am now technologically armed with my iPhone so that even out in the middle of the Spanish nowhere I can get a fabulous map of exactly where I am and exactly where I am going.

We headed NW on the CV-20 towards a big lake, the Embalse de Arenos.

Just a short bit up the road we saw a place to pull off. This was the first of many and a lesson well learned that along this route, at least, if there is a small widening of the road where you can park, then park because there will be something amazing there even if it's not readily apparent.

There's a small green sign there that says "La Fuente de los Baños"with a scribble of graffiti over it.  A little trail leads down the hill and a small side on the side of it points to where Arab baths were in the 13th century.  At the bottom of the hill we saw the fountain, the rock walls, and a shallow pool of crystal clear aqua water.


A group of men swam and posed while a girl on the rocky beach took pictures.  A mid-70's man swam laps back while his wife read in the sun. 






It's November, but these waters come from a natural thermal spring that remains at 25 ºC all year.




Almost 150 years ago in 1863, these thermal waters were declared a public utility by a royal order.  It's not just a historic swimming hole.

The road elevates from here winding up the side of the mountain while the chasm below gets deeper.  There are no towns here, just dramatic views like this one just before a tunnel.  This is another little turnoff just after a dam where we saw nothing but the tunnel ahead and the tops of trees, but we stopped anyway, walked to the edge and saw this:  Dramatic rocky faces, tiny waterfalls, and an aqua stream.















 

Another dam a few miles ahead reveals the beautiful Emblase de Arenos, the lake created by a dam built here in 1977.  Though the dam is recent, the village beyond it isn't.  From here we could see the ruin of an old Arab castle on the hill and a sign nearby told us that the first civilizations here began between 225-205 B.C.

This village, Puebla de Arenoso, is the first in a string of quaint mountain villages strung along the tiny highway from here to the A-23.  Some of the villages are nothing more than a tight collection of houses clumped together on either side of the road.  Many homes look so run down that only a small kitchen light and a newer car in front give them away from my first assumption that they're abandoned ruins.  It's a different life here where people rely more on themselves growing what they need and using the elaborate water systems set up here centuries ago that deliver fresh cold spring water all year. 





We drove through Los Cantos, La Monzona, Caserto las Lucas and Los Ibanez Bajos as the road began to climb towards Olba.  Here we're going through a valley with picturesque towns creeping down the hill into the valley below, a little stream running through the center with tall aspen trees on either side whose golden leaves are floating on the wind like lost feathers.




In Olba we stopped to see the cemetery there, a typical Spanish cemetary encircled by a stone wall.  Inside are only walls of boxes carved with the name and date, inset on some with a photo and with others a vase for flowers fresh or plastic.  They're very clean and stark here in comparison to the old French cemeteries with the crumbling carved headstones from eons ago.

Just past Olba where the river Rubielos meets Mijares, is this dramatic view and a small turnout just past.  Here are two aquaducts, the older from the middle ages and the newer finished in 1905 and still functioning today to help transport water throughout the chain of villages in this valley.  A path leads behind it to a tiny little paradise, as tranquil as it is picturesque with clear reflective waters and this tiny "Fountain of Health" nearly hidden under a rocky overhang.











This herder has 300 goats with him and two dogs.  We chatted a bit while his goats grazed, then he moved to cross the street and let his dogs go to work.  It was a symphony of bleats and the clank of metal bells.  Undisciplined children are these hiding in bushes and eating everything in sight.  Even when I thought all the goats had gone by, the man made a curt sound to his dog who took off into the bushes and flushed out 10 more goats several with long strands of green vine hanging out of their mouth.

They aren't for milk which surprises me.  I've seen a lot more goat cheese than goat meat on the menus.  Not true for sheep who share equal billing on menus with their cheese.

The sheep were controlled by a couple with their two dogs, but they only watched us as we watched them and weren't available to chat.

Yet another great day worth repeating with more time... water, old villages, and farm animals!  You can't get much better than that.