Our coach left the warm sunny blue skies of the Costa Blanca and headed North West up the A31 Alicante – Madrid road. Destination Almansa and Alcala Del Jucar in the province of Albacete.
I always research an expedition, especially one going north, so given the latest weather forecast and numerous years experience of Spain, telling me the sun does not always shine, I was surprised to see many of my fellow travellers clad in light weight summer clothes and even flip flops.
As we crossed the border into the Castilla La Mancha province I could see dark grey menacing clouds looming on the horizon from my front seat vantage point. Our first stop was Almansa. People getting off the coach were amazed to be blasted by an icy wind with damp spitting rain in the rapidly moving air.
We looked up at the medieval castle, one of many in this region, but lots had already decided to retreat to shelter from the weather and leave the more appropriately clad to explore. I tagged on with those seeking sanctuary which we found in the local town hall where a welcoming man showed us his pride and joy – a painting depicting the famous battle fought on 25 April 1707. It was one of the most important battles in the War of the Spanish Succession, a complicated affair involving Spain, France, Portugal and Britain. Rather uniquely the British forces were commanded by a Frenchman, probably the only time in history this has happened.
Our enjoyment was rather shattered when he then explained that the painting was not the original, which was actually in Valencia. The same painting was also displayed next to the local Mercadona which again seemed to degrade its importance. However it is worth a look and you can take your pick of locations.
Meanwhile, a raiding party of cold shoppers was eagerly seeking out the local shops and Chinese bazaars, desperately searching for warm scarves, hats, socks, stouter shoes, someone even bought a jacket. The success of their mission was celebrated with a warming drink before we all climbed aboard the coach, some clutching red carnations donated by the campaigning PSOE political party, and set off for our next destination Alcala de Jucar, another 60 kms inland.
Having left the motorway we travelled along country roads across the flat and rather barren looking Castilla La Mancha tableland before climbing up the twisting narrow road to reach the summit of Alcala. The village houses are set into the steep slopes, many are actually cave houses. Our lunch stop commanded a magnificent view from the restaurant. But misty rain rather spoilt the vistas.
The party, everyone now clad in appropriate warm clothes and shoes, keenly tucked into their lunch. It had been a long time since breakfast. A buzz went round there was an Emu in restaurant garden, encouraging a few brave souls to venture out into the windswept garden for a photo call with the unexpected long necked guest, whilst others queried what was in the stew.
The highlight of the day was the afternoon caves visit and walk. A 3€ entrance fee gained you this experience and free refreshment. Las Cuevas Del Diablo are dug into the very heart of the mountain, through a long tunnel from side to side of it. They were excavated in 1905 with the aim of using them for animal pens and storages.
During recent years they have been restored as a tourist attraction with numerous antiques and tools on display in a constant temperature throughout the year. You will also be amazed at the wonderful views it offers of the geological formations of the mountain slopes and the River Jucar, which can be seen from the magnificent terrace and balconies.
Although a tempting offer I remained on the coach with some others who decided exploring down town (or down village) Alcala may hold more promise. The River Jucar waterfalls and the plentiful trees alongside the riverbank were shedding their leaves making a very autumnal scene, more British looking and Spanish. The fallen leaves stuck to the damp ground as we explored over the bridge and took our photos before deciding it was time to sample some local bar hospitality in another restaurant, located beside the villages empty of water but full of leaves public swimming pool.
Later our intrepid cave adventurers rejoined us, anxious to explain what we had missed and trying to make us feel guilty (and failing) for coming straight into the village. Then it was time to leave so the coach wound its way slowly down and back towards home where all those new warm clothes and shoes could be stored away until the next trip to Albacete.
