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LIVE from the Camino On the caminos of Caravaca and San Juan de la Cruz

AlanSykes

Veteran Member
Time of past OR future Camino
Except the Francés
I arrived in Cartagena today and spent a very pleasant few hours ratching around the old town, the port, the Roman theatre, the castle, a few fish bars and so on. A relaxed vibe - where "it seeméd always afternoon. All round the coast the languid air did swoon." Great views of the harbour from the castle, and also inland towards the sierras I hope to be climbing in a few days.

I picked up my credencial for the Camino de la Cruz de Caravaca from the diocesan bookshop, and my first sello (upside down). Then on to the fishermen's barrio of Santa Lucía, where there is a statue of Santiago at the waterside, and a plaque explaining "according to the tradition, the apostol Santiago landed here in the first century AD. From Cartagena he began his work to evangelise the peninsula." If anybody can tell me of a better place to start a camino to Compostela, please do.

Tomorrow to work.

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Ideal sleeping bag liner whether we want to add a thermal plus to our bag, or if we want to use it alone to sleep in shelters or hostels. Thanks to its mummy shape, it adapts perfectly to our body.

€46,-
The 2024 Camino guides will be coming out little by little. Here is a collection of the ones that are out so far.
I was hoping to start from Valencia next, but now I think that could be a little tourist stop on the way to Cartagena - surely THAT is The Very Best Starting Point Ever for a camino. I'll be looking to see where you go after Caravaca de la Cruz - will you be able to get up to Albacete perhaps? If that's possible I think I would definitely rearrange my plans. Will be following you with even more interest than usual.

 
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2nd ed.
If anybody can tell me of a better place to start a camino to Compostela, please do.
Nope. You win, hands (errr...feet) down.

"it seeméd always afternoon. All round the coast the languid air did swoon."
OK, so I have to admit having to look this up. May your dreams not be weary and may you manage to return here to post, at least from time to time.
 
I arrived in Cartagena today and spent a very pleasant few hours ratching around the old town, the port, the Roman theatre, the castle, a few fish bars and so on. A relaxed vibe - where "it seeméd always afternoon. All round the coast the languid air did swoon." Great views of the harbour from the castle, and also inland towards the sierras I hope to be climbing in a few days.

I picked up my credencial for the Camino de la Cruz de Caravaca from the diocesan bookshop, and my first sello (upside down). Then on to the fishermen's barrio of Santa Lucía, where there is a statue of Santiago at the waterside, and a plaque explaining "according to the tradition, the apostol Santiago landed here in the first century AD. From Cartagena he began his work to evangelise the peninsula." If anybody can tell me of a better place to start a camino to Compostela, please do.

Tomorrow to work.

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Buen camino, @AlanSykes !

This looks interesting. Thanks for posting...
 
I arrived in Cartagena today and spent a very pleasant few hours ratching around the old town, the port, the Roman theatre, the castle, a few fish bars and so on. A relaxed vibe - where "it seeméd always afternoon. All round the coast the languid air did swoon." Great views of the harbour from the castle, and also inland towards the sierras I hope to be climbing in a few days.

I picked up my credencial for the Camino de la Cruz de Caravaca from the diocesan bookshop, and my first sello (upside down). Then on to the fishermen's barrio of Santa Lucía, where there is a statue of Santiago at the waterside, and a plaque explaining "according to the tradition, the apostol Santiago landed here in the first century AD. From Cartagena he began his work to evangelise the peninsula." If anybody can tell me of a better place to start a camino to Compostela, please do.

Tomorrow to work.
This is a BEAUTIFUL Camino … and another one with different starting points… I am currently also walking the Caravaca de la Cruz, though started out from Orihuela. So far, much to recommend.
 
The 2024 Camino guides will be coming out little by little. Here is a collection of the ones that are out so far.
Saturn was bright above fading Orion when I emerging from the warm calm sea, just as the rosy-fingered dawn was beginning to make an appearance. I then started to make my way out of Hasdrubal's city, determined to leave early as 35 degrees of heat was promised (and delivered). My first ever camino steps in Murcia province: not many left for me to cover (of the contiguous ones, only Ciudad Real and the three from the País Vasco). I enjoyed Cartagena very much. But I think Cervantes was getting a little over-excited when he wrote about the ”... puerto
a quien los de Cartago dieron nombre,
cerrado a todos vientos y encubierto,
a cuyo claro y singular renombre
se postran cuantos puertos el mar baña,
descubre el sol y ha navegado el hombre.”

I managed to get my first coffee and tostada near the bus station. Just under the Cerro de Despeñaperros. It seemed politer not to ask which dogs and what was their fate. Then the Camino del Azahar follows the main road out of town. For about 7 long km. Eventually into the astonishingly fertile plain - Europe’s vegetable patch. Fruit trees, melons recently harvested, every sort of veg, irrigation channels, vast greenhouses: one I walked past was about 1km long by 250m wide - a longer façade than Versailles. Very few people: I got a cheery wave from one group of gastarbeiters, but most of the crops are now harvested mechanically - and often tinned on the spot, judging by a few factories I also passed.

The heat was intense, and so was the light, but at least it was dry heat, and there was a pleasant breeze as well. Because the camino more or less stalks the motorway, there were plenty of places to pick up snacks or extra water - I got through 7 litres today.

I’m staying the night at a very decent 2 star truck stop called the Venta del Puerto. A lot further on that I’d intended, but I simply couldn’t find anything else closer to Cartagena - presumably all accommodation is lured down to the seaside. When I telephoned last night to book, the manager charged me 40€, a big improvement on the 65€ booking.com wanted. And because I’m so much further today, I’ll be able to spend more time exploring Murcia city tomorrow.
 
Leaving the plain at first light, the camino moves steadily up through scrub into a nice shady maquis of pines and holm oaks, finally out of earshot of the motorway. Two hours of relatively gentle ascent takes you to a long ridge at just under 600m up, where I caught a wonderful view of the Mar Menor, with the sea sparkling beyond. Almost certainly my last view of salt water until December.

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I depended mostly on mapy.cz for directions - there were some faded red and white GR250 signs, and a very few parsimonously applied yellow arrows, but nothing like enough to guide you confidently.

Although shadier and much shorter than yesterday, I had still run out of water by 11am. And had been promising myself a treat at the monastery of Nuestra Señora de la Fuensanta, where the mountain joins the city suburbs. Water there was, but horrible municipal chlorinated water, not the holy agua de la sierra I'd promised myself. Huh. As a consolation, there was a long hedge of purple sage, something I've never seen before - almost more flowers than leaves.

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Central Murcia seems a very pleasant bustling city. Pleasant, but somehow lacking, for me, the easy seductive charm of Zamora or Soria (lovely Soria). The cathedral is a jumble of styles, and largely under scaffolding, which doesn't help - although I enjoyed a grumpy-looking Santiago on the south doorway. It also houses the heart and bowels of Alfonso el Sabio.

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Nearby is an exuberant 19th century casino, unsure whether it's hispano-mooresque or neo-classical. The ballroom drips with 100s of kilos of huge candelabras, but I was driven away by some idiot massacring the Rondo a la Turca on a hideously out of tune grand piano.

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Holoholo automatically captures your footpaths, places, photos, and journals.
Last night's paseo in the streets round the cathedral was really energetic and enjoyably noisy.

I do hope the food in Murcia was better than all that

I treated myself to supper in Murcia's only Michelin starred restaurant, not something I do very often - in fact, other than Almansa, where the Maralba got both its stars a while after the only time I ate there, I don't think I've ever done it on a camino. Avoiding the lengthy "tasting menu", I just had some lovely queen scallops with artichokes in a saffron sauce, and a gloriously fresh tender dish of monkfish with tiny basil-infused gnocchi, a local speciality. With a glass of the local Jumilla DOC white, not a wine I've ever come across before - slightly oakey, very fruity, probably mostly chardonnay, from a vineyard near the Albacete border at over 1000m up. Yum, and all for about the price of a (posh) pub lunch in England.

This morning saw me heading out along a path following the río Segura as it meanders in a mazy motion westwards(ish), past an amusing partly submerged fish sculpture. Lots of ducks and geese, some egrets, a few moorhens, very pleasant, and quite a few other walkers and bikers. I left the Camino del Azahar (often marked as the "sendero del Apostol") at Murcia's dormitory town of Alcantarilla, making a tedious detour 3km to the Decathlon on the wrong side of town: one of my pole tips had come off, and going thump-click every pace was driving me mad. @Kiwi-family : the Azahar carries on northwards, joining the Sureste at Petrola and the Levante at Chinchilla de Montearagón

After two whole days walking, I worked out what I had been missing: not a single dog had barked at me since leaving Cartagena, I'm sure the longest silence on any camino I've walked. Today made up for it, with the yapping chorus starting on the edge of town and carrying on deep into the campo.

I'm staying the night in the Ventabaños motorway hotel in the middle of nowhere, the only way I could find to split the stages. Telephoning last night I was quoted 60€, much more than I usually spend, but a lot less than the 115€ booking.com appeared to be expecting. And when I arrived the receptionist told me I'd get a 20% pilgrim discount on top.

Accommodation in the area generally seems to be a problem, presumably because of the Holy Year, and also some sort of conference this weekend. So from tomorrow I'm doing 3 short stages rather than 2 long ones, to get to Caravaca de la Cruz on Monday, when the current wave seems to have receeded a little. Quite a relief really, as a 43km day followed by two 30s straight out of the gate has left me too knackered to sleep properly, never a pleasant state.

Are you continuing on the Camino de San Juan de la Cruz past Caravaca through the Cazorla Parque Natural to Beas de Segura?
That's the plan, and on to Úbeda, where San Juan de la Cruz died (and then to Fontivros, where he was born). Any tips gratefully received. Not quite sure how I'm going to find places to sleep while trying to break through those largely unpopulated sierras. On verra.
 
€2,-/day will present your project to thousands of visitors each day. All interested in the Camino de Santiago.
That's the plan, and on to Úbeda, where San Juan de la Cruz died (and then to Fontivros, where he was born). Any tips gratefully received. Not quite sure how I'm going to find places to sleep while trying to break through those largely unpopulated sierras. On verra.
I agree - that is a very hard route for finding accommodations. I tried every source I could find last year, but couldn't manage to work out a route from Caravaca to Hornos on the Camino de
San Juan de la Cruz with stages short enough for us to do. Instead, we planned to use the Camino Ruta del Argar desde Lorca that also goes through Caravaca but continues north from there before turning west to more or less parallel the San Juan de la Cruz route. The Argar route has lots of accommodation, and I'd be glad to send you my list if you ever decide you are interested in that route. The Argar itself has quite a bit of road walking, but for almost every stage, there are alternative Wikiloc tracks that go through some stunning countryside on paths, not roads, connecting Caravaca de la Cruz, Moratalla (15.41 km), Benizar (20.70 km), Ferez (13.10), Letur (11.76), Yeste (30.15), Vado de Tus (19.42), and Siles (22.86), all villages with places to stay.

For various reasons, we ended up starting in Siles and using the GR 247 to work our way south to Hornos - another beautiful route with hardly any road walking and lots of tiny villages to stay in. The GR 247 encircles the entire park in 21 stages and is shown on mapy.cz. It also has a number of unmanned refuges that provide shelter, but you'd need to carry a sleeping bag, mat, and food.

I''m so excited that you are walking the Camino de San Juan de la Cruz and posting to the forum. It is one I would love to walk in the future. I'll be poring over every update.
Elaine
 
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3rd Edition. Vital content training & pack guides avoid common mistakes, bed bugs etc

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Until the pleasant village of Albudeite, proud of its claim to be the "cuna de la límon mesero", my camino passed through the arid solitary badlands. Almost lunar in places, contrasting with the fertile verdant irrigated valley floors.

At Albudeite, I finally joined the vía verde and the main Camino de Caravaca de la Cruz, the one that starts at Orihuela. Astonishing crowds of people, some jogging, most walking fast, a few on bicycles. I must have been overtaken by about 200 people in the 12km on to Mula. Spain's gender apartheid was much in evidence, as fewer than 10 of them were female.

Asking in Cartagena, I had been told that there were several pilgrim albergues between Murcia (capital) and Caravaca de la Cruz, but also advised not to use them, especially at weekends, as they would likely be packed by groups of young Murcianos. It seemed sensible advice, and I'm glad that, for once, I had the sense to take it.

Mula seems a pleasant place, full of people enjoying the weekend in dozens of bars and restaurants. I had hoped to see la Santa Espina in its Real Monasterio de la Encarnación, a legacy to the place from Don John of Austria. Google maps told me the convent was open on Saturdays from 4pm-6.30, but a note on the doors from the nuns said 3-4pm, and the nuns trump google. So I will have to see that part of the Crown of Thorns some other time, perhaps.

Expecting another relatively short day tomorrow, I was a bit depressed to see a sign on the via verde saying 39.6km to Cehegín. At least I'm staying in a casa rural a couple of km outside Mula, so slightly closer. For the 6th day running since I arrived, according to TVE, Murcia is expected to be the hottest place in Spain tomorrow. Today there were loads of lemons rotting on the track, so I was able to squeeze some into my bottle to take away some of the taste of the revolting municipal water. 5 litres today, probably more tomorrow.

I tried every source I could find last year, but couldn't manage to work out a route from Caravaca to Hornos on the Camino de San Juan de la Cruz
I'm having the same problem, and may try to break through from Santiago de la Espalda north to Segura de la Sierra ("uno de los pueblos más bonitos de España"), but it's nearly 2000m of ascent over 40+km, according to mapy.cz. Also depending on whether anything in Santiago is open next weekend (or not booked out for the 12 Oct holiday). Not obvious, and it would mean missing the source of the Segura, which sounds nice (I collect river sources).
 
it's nearly 2000m of ascent over 40+km, according to mapy.cz.
Eeek.
And just by way of confirming with another app, this is what OSMand offerred, after a tweak by way of following a more off-road option, about 1km longer than following the road west and then north. In this level of definition the map doesn't show the dramatic contour lines - it's quite a landscape.
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A selection of Camino Jewellery
I'm having the same problem, and may try to break through from Santiago de la Espalda north to Segura de la Sierra ("uno de los pueblos más bonitos de España"), but it's nearly 2000m of ascent over 40+km, according to mapy.cz. Also depending on whether anything in Santiago is open next weekend (or not booked out for the 12 Oct holiday). Not obvious, and it would mean missing the source of the Segura, which sounds nice (I collect river sources).
Another water/river/data fan - that's great! You mentioned walking along the Rio Segura. Have you seen any of the Canal de Taibilla? If so, I'm envious! I've read that it was quite a controversial project taking water away from the Sierra de Segura (via the longest canal in Europe) to be used in Murcia and coastal cities, and thus contributing to the depopulation of the Sierra. The photos from the Franco era show what an incredible feat it must have been to construct.

I have no idea if any of the following will be useful to you, but I'll send it along just in case. Feel free to ignore it all after a long day of walking!

If you do decide to go to Segura de la Sierra, it's worth knowing that there was a bad fire several years ago that affected the GR 247 coming in from the south. I think that might be the trail you would be using. In May 2023, the trail was still closed due to downed trees that had not been cleared. (The second photo here shows a long-distance shot of the burned area on the side of El Yelmo - circled in red. Maybe it is all cleared up now...?) We diverted and used the VARIANTE GR 247.1 ETAPA 2 Río Madera - Segura de la Sierra that begins/ends near the Hotel Rio Madera, a great rural spot to stay that might be of use to you; it's located about 17 km south of Segura and is the only accommodation in that area. In May, it was open only on weekends but the owner made an exception for us. He's also a great chef! In terms of interesting water-related sights to see in Segura, there is a pozo de nieve (photo 4) on the way up to the castle where winter snow was stored for summer use.

If you decide to go via Pontones to see the Nacimiento, we stayed at Hotel Restaurante Ruta de Segura on a mountain bike trip in 2009, but when I checked online just now, I only found references to the restaurant. It might be worth contacting them to see if they still rent rooms. The owner was knowledgeable about local trails and might be able to help you out. If not, Apartamentos Egeivan rents for one night in Ponton Alto for 66 euros (maybe less for one person?) - and it's closer to the Nacimiento. The route we followed from Pontones to Hornos follows the water divide between the Mediterranean and the Atlantic, but the route I see for the camino is shorter, 22.88km, and comes into Hornos via a rather nice stretch above the Embalse de Tranco. Two items of note along that route: it passes through a private hunting reserve (see photo seven) - no shooting at all the day we walked it, though, and the lockable gates were wide open; and second, it goes by a very nicely preserved era when you pass through La Platera (shown by arrow in photo). Hornos has lots of places to stay. We liked Apartamentos Raisa. They rent both apartments and rooms.
 
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Attached are two photos of a master map I compiled of various tracks in the Hornos - Segura - Pontones - Santiago area. If you see any track on here that would be useful to you that isn't shown on mapy.cz, let me know what color and area it is, and I will send you the Wikiloc link. I wish I could just send you the Gaia GPS map, but I haven't figured out a way to do that.

It's almost impossible to use these photos on a phone, but I'm sending them just in case they are of any use.
Photo 1 - southern area, showing Santiago, La Toba, Pontones, and Hornos
Photo 2 - northern area, showing Segura de la Siera, Hornos, and Rio Madera

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The 2024 Camino guides will be coming out little by little. Here is a collection of the ones that are out so far.
~42km in that terrain sounds absolutely brutal.
Yes, indeed! Breaking the stage in half by staying at the Hotel Río Madera if it's open (center of photo below) might help. Another possibility would be to go from Santiago de la Espada to Pontones (16.2 km), see the Nacimiento, overnight there, and then Pontones to Rio Madera (23.5 km) and Rio Madera - Segura de la Sierra (15 km if using the road for the last 2km) via the GR247.1 (to avoid the possible burned area on the GR247).
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A much quieter day, almost entirely on the vía verde between Mula and Cehegín, where I sleep tonight. I had the road to myself from 8-9.30, then a few bicyclists, then, from 10-ish, a few walkers, mostly not pilgrims. I think there are masses of masses and processions in Caravaca de la Cruz today, and in the afternoon I saw loads of buses heading east in the motorway, presumably taking them home. So I think yesterday's crowds will not be repeated until next weekend.

Bullas, today's halfway point, is an ugly but enjoyable town, centre of its DOC wine. There was an outdoor concert starting in the main square as I left as noon was striking, with smartly dressed self-conscious children just emerging from their first communion. The vía verde moves fairly steadily uphill all day, from lush citrus up to less thirsty almond and olive plantations, and vines. In all the villages and towns between Mula and Cehegín there have been loads of mulberry trees, with their lovely floppy slightly iridescent Cranach-green leaves, a reminder than this area used to be the centre of Spain's silk industry.

On the outskirts of Cehegín I saw a late flight of swallows, looking as if they were just ready to leave for Africa. At home near the Scottish border, most of mine seemed to have left a fortnight or more ago. Always a slightly bitter-sweet moment. As Béquer put it:

"Volverán las oscuras golondrinas en tu balcón sus nidos a colgar,
y otra vez con el ala a sus cristales jugando llamarán."

Have you seen any of the Canal de Taibilla? If so, I'm envious! I've read that it was quite a controversial project taking water away from the Sierra de Segura (via the longest canal in Europe)
I'm staying at Pedro Andrés, near Taibilla castle on Thursday, if they have a room (and booked into the hotel San Francisco in Santiago de la Espada on Friday - the furthest ahead, by about 4 days, I've ever booked on a camino). Many thanks for all the trouble you (and @VNwalking ) have taken to try to see me through the empty quarter. I'm sure I'll be fine - San Juan de la Cruz, with all his health issues, made the return trip to Caravaca six times, so one solo ida should not be beyond me. I see from the San Juan camino website that they give the local priests' numbers, so assume a presbytery sofa may be the refuge of last resort. Or, I'm quite fond of mountain huts, once in a while, even with no sleeping bag.
 
Ideal sleeping bag liner whether we want to add a thermal plus to our bag, or if we want to use it alone to sleep in shelters or hostels. Thanks to its mummy shape, it adapts perfectly to our body.

€46,-
I wish I could help but I’ve not been anywhere near here.
I had to look twice to check it really was Laurie writing that! Hard to believe!!

Question for Alan - are you using sites other than this one for your planning?
I'm loving the beautiful musical selections on this site, which doesn't help me find accommodations or routes, but is greatly enriching my life.
Do you mind recording where you stay and costs (which I understand will change, but does give an indication at a set point in time which is helpful). How do you know where to find mountain huts?
No hurry for answers to any of these questions! Enjoy your perambulation.
 
I'm staying at Pedro Andrés, near Taibilla castle on Thursday, if they have a room (and booked into the hotel San Francisco in Santiago de la Espada on Friday
Taibilla castle (which I had never heard of) ...the mulberry trees ...buses full of celebrants - so much history along this route. And your timing seems to be perfect if you do decide to go to Santiago via Rio Madera because Saturday night is the one night the hotel is most likely to be open.

I'm really looking forward to your descriptions of the route from Caravaca onwards.
 
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How do you know where to find mountain huts?
@Kiwi-family, the huts in the Cazorla parque natural are shown on this map and described in the stage guides to the GR 247 on the same website. Also, here's a blog with hut photos by some people who walked the GR 247 and used the huts. The huts are very basic - just a sleeping platform for 4-8 places and a water source nearby. No stoves or water inside the huts - at least not the ones we've seen.

Thanks so much for the camino links you have posted - very helpful! Here's a Wikiloc track for the route.
 
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This is a BEAUTIFUL Camino … and another one with different starting points… I am currently also walking the Caravaca de la Cruz, though started out from Orihuela. So far, much to recommend.
A camino friend from Leon and his wife, Edu and Gema, just finished this camino. He's a camino addict and his backpack is full of sew-on patches. Did you meet them perchance?
 
An easy short day, again on the vía verde, brought me to the holy city. The fortress sanctuary was visible from several km out, high above its sprawling town. Eight pilgrim routes flow into Caravaca de la Cruz. As in Santiago de Compostela, some of them converge before the town, so "my" Camino de Levante was joined by the Camino de Lignum Crucis somewhere before Mula, and, on the outskirts of town, was the confluence with the Camino de la Vera Cruz. It is the longest by far of the Caravaca caminos, coming all the way from Roncesvalles. Also something of an old friend of mine, as I've overlapped with it between Castejón and Tudela on the Ebro, in Tarazona on the Castellano-Aragonés, at Alcala del Júcar on the Lana and, last year, between Calatayud and Teruel (capital) on the Sagunto. [the pic is from Villafeliche, 9-x-23]:

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I've decided to take a day off here tomorrow before attempting the sierras, so I didn't "do" the sanctuary and its museums and so on today. I did pick up my "Caravacensis Certificatio Peregrini", which, with the usual conditions, entitles me to my first plenary indulgence of this camino. Also got the first sello on my "huellas de Santa Teresa" credencial.

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Alan, not sure if this is useful.
But both OSMand and Google maps agree, so it's worth a query to someone on the ground.

From Santiago de la Espada, it's 24.7kms to a campground called Camping Garrote Gordo on the PR195. Then the next day it's 18.6 km to Segura. GM also shows Casa El Molino some kms short of that.
Screenshot_20241008_141445_Maps.jpg

The route overview on OSMand:
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And then three separate parts of the route zoomed in so you can see the contour lines:
1. SdlE to 195 turn-off:
Screenshot_20241008_142636_OsmAnd.jpg

195 route to Campground:
Screenshot_20241008_142645_OsmAnd.jpg

Campground to SdlS
Screenshot_20241008_142703_OsmAnd.jpg

You could also go via the more direct route - the more southerly one. It looks shorter but more intense.
 
...and ship it to Santiago for storage. You pick it up once in Santiago. Service offered by Casa Ivar (we use DHL for transportation).
The fortress sanctuary is madly impressive. A jumble of styles from the original arab Alcazar to a renaissance courtyard,

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baroque façade

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and other bits and pieces, all with fabulous views over the surrounding curtain of hills.

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The true cross that has been venerated for centuries was apparently brought down here by two angels while a captured Christian priest was trying to say mass, in the presence of his moorish captor. The latter was so impressed, he converted to Christianity on the spot. For centuries the cross was guarded here, first by the Templars, then the Knights of Santiago. Unfortunately it was stolen in 1934, which so enraged the townspeople that they shot the parish priest in the street, suspecting him of complicity in the theft. Fortunately, the Vatican kindly replaced the stolen piece with another one from their own collection.

Most impressive, for me, was a series of panels showing the story of the cross, painted by Hernando de los Llanos, a probable pupil (certainly follower) of Leonardo's, painted in around 1510.

A nice young man in the tourist office kindly booked me into a pensión in El Sabinar for tomorrow night, which was a huge relief, as I hadn't been able to find anything accessible - most of the casas rural are closing down for winter, or booked for the Día de la Hispanidad. So, tomorrow booked into El Sabinar, still just in Murcia, Thursday Pedro Andrés, in La Mancha, and Friday Santiago de la Espada, in Andalusia. Don't think I've ever previously known exactly where I'm sleeping so many nights ahead. Outside my hotel, I spotted my first Juan de la Cruz pavement marker:

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I've enjoyed my lazy day in Caravaca de la Cruz. It's great being in a place where walking a pilgrimage is seen as a perfectly normal thing to want to do. Usually when I emerge from the Mediterranean and people ask me where I'm heading, the unspoken (sometimes not unspoken) second question is usually "¡Santiago! ¿Estás loco?"
 
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My rucksack was considerably heavier leaving Caravaca de la Cruz than arriving. Even though I didn't invest in the generous quantities of tourist tat available. Not being sure about food up in the sierras, I bought myself a half pound each of fuet, sultanas and cheese, a litre of salmorejo and a dozen tangerines. Enough for a day or two, if necessary.

The ascent was vía the río Alhárabe. Initially a really lovely, if slightly tricky, narrow canyon leading steeply uphill past waterfalls. A pretty, deep pool at just gone 11am was too delicious to resist, so I had a brief swim. Fortunately putting on my swimming trunks, as a couple of walkers strolled past while I was sploshing about - the only people I saw on the trail all day. The water was pleasant to swim in and a treat to drink. Also a glorious pale Giotto green.

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A few km of further ascent and the Alhárabe was so shallow it didn't even cover my trainers. And a few more km saw an excellent exercise in futility: a stern sign warning "Vedado de pesca" over a río that was totally secco.

The narrow woodland path following the river (or the ex-river) sharply uphill, eventually opened out into a beautiful wide empty heathland, at a little over 1000m up. Autumn starting here - the poplars turning gold. Fields of lavender must be very pretty when flowering, and some of El Sabinar's eponymous junipers put in an appearance, otherwise the fields were mostly ploughed and ready for winter. The only downside of reaching the uplands was a blustery head-wind, presumably a distant side-effect of Kirk, the storm that's causing much greater problems further north.

The pensión in El Sabinar my friend in the tourist office booked me into is a delight. I arrived hot and knackered after my first 1000+ metres of ascent this year at nearly 5pm, expecting a bocadillo if lucky. Instead, a paper tablecloth was spread in front of me, and, no nonsense about choice, a delicious tomato salad appeared, and a bowl of soupy-stewy beans and potatoes (and a tiny bit of pepper, for colour). Most importantly, a cool bottle of 5 year-old Jumilla red, rich with Monastrell grapes, and definitely not going to be drowned in the gaseosa that came with it. Yum. Must try and find a supplier in England.

Most of northern Europe survives on Murcian tomatoes, but I've noticed in Murcia, if they mention the origin, they only tend to boast if their tomatoes come from Caravaca's neighbouring Cehegín. Today's did.

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The 2024 Camino guides will be coming out little by little. Here is a collection of the ones that are out so far.
My rucksack was considerably heavier leaving Caravaca de la Cruz than arriving. Even though I didn't invest in the generous quantities of tourist tat available. Not being sure about food up in the sierras, I bought myself a half pound each of fuet, sultanas and cheese, a litre of salmorejo and a dozen tangerines. Enough for a day or two, if necessary.

The ascent was vía the río Alhárabe. Initially a really lovely, if slightly tricky, narrow canyon leading steeply uphill past waterfalls. A pretty, deep pool at just gone 11am was too delicious to resist, so I had a brief swim. Fortunately putting on my swimming trunks, as a couple of walkers strolled past while I was sploshing about - the only people I saw on the trail all day. The water was pleasant to swim in and a treat to drink. Also a glorious pale Giotto green.

View attachment 178876

A few km of further ascent and the Alhárabe was so shallow it didn't even cover my trainers. And a few more km saw an excellent exercise in futility: a stern sign warning "Vedado de pesca" over a río that was totally secco.

The narrow woodland path following the river (or the ex-river) sharply uphill, eventually opened out into a beautiful wide empty heathland, at a little over 1000m up. Autumn starting here - the poplars turning gold. Fields of lavender must be very pretty when flowering, and some of El Sabinar's eponymous junipers put in an appearance, otherwise the fields were mostly ploughed and ready for winter. The only downside of reaching the uplands was a blustery head-wind, presumably a distant side-effect of Kirk, the storm that's causing much greater problems further north.

The pensión in El Sabinar my friend in the tourist office booked me into is a delight. I arrived hot and knackered after my first 1000+ metres of ascent this year at nearly 5pm, expecting a bocadillo if lucky. Instead, a paper tablecloth was spread in front of me, and, no nonsense about choice, a delicious tomato salad appeared, and a bowl of soupy-stewy beans and potatoes (and a tiny bit of pepper, for colour). Most importantly, a cool bottle of 5 year-old Jumilla red, rich with Monastrell grapes, and definitely not going to be drowned in the gaseosa that came with it. Yum. Must try and find a supplier in England.

Most of northern Europe survives on Murcian tomatoes, but I've noticed in Murcia, if they mention the origin, they only tend to boast if their tomatoes come from Caravaca's neighbouring Cehegín. Today's did.

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Sainsburys used to have a good Jumilla but this is an accessible alternative!
 

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@AlanSykes, you are nearly in a league of your own with the amazing less traveled paths you walk, your knowledge of so much Camino history of the cathedrals, etc etc. I can only enjoy reading your detailed and informative posts and marvel...and admire from afar.
 
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...and ship it to Santiago for storage. You pick it up once in Santiago. Service offered by Casa Ivar (we use DHL for transportation).
Yes indeed, it's quite a treat that Alan is bringing alive for all of us this camino through the Parque Natural de las Sierras de Cazorla, Segura y Las Villas. It's the largest protected area in Spain and the second largest in Europe. Before this thread, I had no idea there was a camino that went through it (not to mention all the other interesting places Alan is treating us to enroute).

Edited to add: here's a link to all the individual stages published on Wikiloc by los Carmelitas Descalzos para el Camino de San Juan de la Cruz.

 
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Breakfast is served from 7.30 at El Sabinar's excellent Nevazo restaurant-pensión. At this time of year it's about the only option - the casas rural all seem to be shut or shutting. I found it very friendly, very tasty and very good value: 40€ for dinner (well, very late lunch), bed (perfectly OK en suite, bed a bit short for a normal northern European, but that's not unusual in old places in Spain) and breakfast.

Seeing a Cerro de las Buitras and a Pico de los Pájaros nearby on the map, I had been hoping for a bird rich day, but didn't see a single one, never mind a vulture, despite the upper crags looking like an ideal nesting ground.

Very soon after leaving El Sabinar I must have crossed the invisible La Mancha border, and found myself in Albacete province for the first time in 6 years. A pleasant, undulating day, partly wooded, partly heath. I saw some stock-proof fencing, but no livestock - although there was quite a lot of wild boar scat.

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I'm staying in the tiny village of Pedro Andrés, in another good value old fashioned pensión, the Hostal Taibilla (this one with a decent length bed). It's 8km beyond the pretty little town of Nerpio, up the Taibilla river. It would probably have been more fun staying in Nerpio, but the extra km today should give me more time to explore Santiago de la Espada tomorrow.

The valley leading to Pedro Andrés is dominated by the tall tower of Taibilla castle, once the front line of defense against incursions from Granada. The valley is full of impressive walnut trees, and last night's wind has brought loads of them down, providing a nice snack en route.

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Your descriptions are making that route sound very tempting, although I'm not sure I could walk the long stages that you are doing! But I am noting down all your ideas of places to stay. The pension in El Sabinar sounds like a real find in an area pretty much devoid of choices.

Thanks for including the photo of Taibilla Castle. That's quite a lonesome-looking outpost.
 
Fail to prepare? reduce your risk by buying this book full of practical info.
2nd ed.
The day started with nearly 14km of virtually continuous ascent, first up the (mostly dry) course of the Taibilla. Then more up, through quite dense maquis of holm oaks and pine, onto a gorgeous wide open upland heath. A few sheep, their bells clunking musically, some poplars turning gold, bright orange red soil and rocks, and thousands of rose-hips, suggesting spring here must be even more spectacular. Just wonderful, right up to the high point, both literally and metaphorically, at about 1560m up. With three vultures joining me briefly.

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After that it was, literally and metaphorically, downhill almost all the way. A really nasty steep descent on loose scree, with virtually no discernible path in many places. I had an unpleasant fall yesterday, breaking one of my sticks on landing, so only having one stick for the descent didn't help. The almost nonexistent marking didn't, either - at one point there was a Camino de San Juan de la Cruz signpost in the middle of a crossroad, with no indication which way to take in any direction. Sigh. 2km in nearly two hours finally saw me down to the río Zumeta and across the border into Andalucía and my first visit to Jaén province in 7 years.

A sharpish ascent -180m over 3km - then got me into Santiago de la Espada, first spotted at eye-level from about 6km away, before the monster descent. For the third night in a row, I'm in a decent old-fashioned restaurant-hotel, the San Francisco, well fed and rested from the exertions. This one is a two star hotel, but seems much the same as last night's hostal and Wednesday's pensión.

Rain forecast for tomorrow, but may hit further west and miss here.

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I had an unpleasant fall yesterday, breaking one of my sticks on landing, so only having one stick for the descent didn't help
A mild understatement, from the sound of it. Thank goodness it only broke a stick and not something else.

May the next days be beautiful, free of incident, and accompanied by raptors. And no more unpleasantness.
 
The San Francisco breakfasted me by 7.30, and as the first rays of sunlight were "kissing with golden face" the high peaks of the surrounding sierras, I was on my way. Steadily up the río Zumeta, already much smaller than the calf-deep stream I'd had to ford yesterday. Through deep woods, with much better GR and San Juan de la Cruz markings - presumably thanks to being now in the Parque Natural de Cazorla, Segura y las Villas. Near the Zumeta's source, it suffered the indignity of being made to flow down a staircase of drinking troughs. Above the tree line the camino was again over a beautiful empty open heath, with the magnificent mountains on every side. It must have rained relatively recently, as there were patches of not quite dry mud, with deer and boar footprints, but no human ones. Loads more rosehips, and several bushes dripping with slows. Also those pretty, delicate autumn crocuses.

The GR7 joined the GR247 (the one that circles the natural park) near today's high point at nearly 1650m. An awkward moment when, trying to skirt discretely round a field, on the GR247, I unfortunately set off a small stampeed of bullocks. Fortunately away from me. A sign on the exit to the field (there was none on the entrance) read "prohibido el paso, ganado bravo".

A steady gentle descent saw me back down to 1330m at Pontones, where I am staying in a comfy casa rural (el Tiende de Felipe) in the centre, and reunited with the río Segura for the first time since shortly after Murcia city. I dropped my rucksack off and made the 10km circuit up to the Segura's source. Very very beautiful, a limpid deep pool, currently partly covered with golden poplar leaves, with the water invisibly pumping up from underground. It was a pleasure to see it at its source, before its lengthy treck through four different autonomous regions, eventually reaching the mediterranean near Alicante.

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Holoholo automatically captures your footpaths, places, photos, and journals.
What a beautiful moment that must have been at the nacimiento. I'm so glad you made it through the ganado bravo to get there. Reading your words brings me a flood of memories - all footnoted with gratitude for the protection the park brings to these remote spots. Hoping for another great day for you tomorrow.

When you pass through La Platera, you will see numerous small plots and orchards. Pedro, the owner of the casa rural we stayed in there last year, told us there were a “montón” of people living there when he met his wife there 36 years ago. Now there are two year-round residents left. “Una pena,” he said several times. He showed us how the threshing took place with a donkey pulling the trillo around and around to thresh the wheat spread on the era behind the house. The families of the aldea were self-sufficient, he said, growing or raising all their own food. Now, all the young people want to live elsewhere and have paying jobs to buy their food. In an opinion we hadn't heard before, he said the formation of the park accelerated this trend because even if a young person wants to try to make a living there now, it is very difficult to get permission for land use from the park authorities. So there's the other side of the coin.
 
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The advantage of shooters in rural Spain is that you are guaranteed breakfast from 7am on Sundays. The bar was packed with men in camouflage. Most of them seemed to be having more aguardiente and orujo and less coffee than advisable, which was probably good news for the local wildlife. Possibly less so for passing walkers not wishing to contribute to a dish of peregrino a la plancha. I spoke to a friendly hunter (not an oxymoron, but a long way from a tautology) and he assured me my proposed route wouldn't coincide with them at all today. So I went off up to the uplands with an earworm of Tom Lehrer singing about his hunting haul - "two game wardens, seven hunters and a pure bred Guernsey cow".

The ascent was fine, reaching the watershed between the Mediterranean and the Atlantic by about 10am, but the path down through thick woods was often brutal. Beautiful, with occasional streams, waterfalls and opening out to distant views, but the path was often very difficult to see, and often very steep. Fortunately with almost none of Friday's horrible loose scree. Eventually I reached the wider, less steep, better marked PR-A 152 route, with occasional glimpses of the Guadalquivir's reservoir, glinting like rusted copper in the distance. Nearly nine hours to reach Hornos, with over 700m of ascent and nearly 1200 of descent in only 23km.

The Hostal El Cruce in Hornos is fine: decent food, clean room, warm water, friendly kind landlady, what more do you expect for 30€ (49€ on booking.com)? Well, possibly slightly less like being an extra in a Jacques Tati film. When I sat on the bed to plug in my charger, the whole thing went up like a see-saw, tumbling me to the floor, as the bed is not attached to the bed-head. If you want a shower, a slightly complex form of contortionism is required. First enter the bathroom and position yourself to the side of the loo, when you will be able to close the bathroom door, enabling you to open and enter the shower (probably repeating the exercise when you realise you've left the towel by the bed). And don't start me on why hotel owners in España Profunda regard it as a personal insult to let a guest fill the sink with water.

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Ideal sleeping bag liner whether we want to add a thermal plus to our bag, or if we want to use it alone to sleep in shelters or hostels. Thanks to its mummy shape, it adapts perfectly to our body.

€46,-
The advantage of shooters in rural Spain is that you are guaranteed breakfast from 7am on Sundays. The bar was packed with men in camouflage. Most of them seemed to be having more aguardiente and orujo and less coffee than advisable, which was probably good news for the local wildlife. Possibly less so for passing walkers not wishing to contribute to a dish of peregrino a la plancha. I spoke to a friendly hunter (not an oxymoron, but a long way from a tautology) and he assured me my proposed route wouldn't coincide with them at all today. So I went off up to the uplands with an earworm of Tom Lehrer singing about his hunting haul - "two game wardens, seven hunters and a pure bred Guernsey cow".

The ascent was fine, reaching the watershed between the Mediterranean and the Atlantic by about 10am, but the path down through thick woods was often brutal. Beautiful, with occasional streams, waterfalls and opening out to distant views, but the path was often very difficult to see, and often very steep. Fortunately with almost none of Friday's horrible loose scree. Eventually I reached the wider, less steep, better marked PR-A 152 route, with occasional glimpses of the Guadalquivir's reservoir, glinting like rusted copper in the distance. Nearly nine hours to reach Hornos, with over 700m of ascent and nearly 1200 of descent in only 23km.

The Hostal El Cruce in Hornos is fine: decent food, clean room, warm water, friendly kind landlady, what more do you expect for 30€ (49€ on booking.com)? Well, possibly slightly less like being an extra in a Jacques Tati film. When I sat on the bed to plug in my charger, the whole thing went up like a see-saw, tumbling me to the floor, as the bed is not attached to the bed-head. If you want a shower, a slightly complex form of contortionism is required. First enter the bathroom and position yourself to the side of the loo, when you will be able to close the bathroom door, enabling you to open and enter the shower (probably repeating the exercise when you realise you've left the towel by the bed). And don't start me on why hotel owners in España Profunda regard it as a personal insult to let a guest fill the sink with water.

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… maybe I can send you a spare travel sink/bath plug! Invaluable!! LOL
 
From Hornos to Beas de Segura is a less physical day than yesterday, and a lot safer, given no shooters about. The reservoir was pretty with mist, and the first few km were again on the GR247.

Back up to over 1000m, possibly for the last time in a while. The mountains have been a real pleasure, sometimes a difficult one, to cross, and I shall miss them.

Beas de Segura was the site of Santa Teresa de Jesús' 10th nunnery. San Juan de la Cruz was based at the monastery of Nuestra Senora de Monte Calvario, 10km away, and he acted as preacher and confessor to the nuns. It was at Monte Calvario that he wrote "the dark night of the soul", and most of the Cántico Espiritual.

And it was from Beas that he journeyed six (or possibly seven) times over the sierras to Caravaca de la Cruz, founding there a nunnery for his friend Teresa (which she never got to). Traveling with a mule and an (I suspect) equally long-suffering fellow monk.

It was probably here that he wrote: "... vámonos a ver, en tu hermosura, al monte y al collado, do mana el agua pura". The water that flows up there is still utterly pure and delicious.

At Beas I'm staying in the almost luxurious 2 star "El Avenida", complete with fridge, full length bath, and plugs for both the bath and the sink. 45€ when I telephoned at about 3pm today (or 65€ on booking.com).

Did you see the salt pans on the PR-A-152 on the climb up to Hornos

I did, but was so knackered I didn't look properly. I had seen some wonderful ones (still being used, I'm fairly sure) not far from Nerpio, just in La Mancha.

maybe I can send you a spare travel sink/bath plug! Invaluable

I always have one (well, two, in case I leave one behind, which I do most years) in my pack. Yesterday they had a new sink with permanent plug, and had soldered it open.
 
I had seen some wonderful ones (still being used, I'm fairly sure) not far from Nerpio, just in La Mancha.
That is a sight I would love to see - Ned and I will have to head to Nerpio! Do you know how they function? Is there a spring nearby that has salty water that they use for filling the salt ponds and then evaporating?
At Beas I'm staying in the almost luxurious 2 star "El Avenida",
Ahh - the El Avenida. They were so kind to us there! What a great place to recover from your days with so much elevation gain. I vaguely remember the price was about the same in 2010, so you got a really good deal.

Thanks again for sharing so much about the history of the camino as well as your own connections with it. It's all so interesting.
 
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Perfect memento/gift in a presentation box. Engraving available, 25 character max.
With a yellow warning for heavy rain, I had been expecting to stay tonight in Villanueva del Arzobispo after a short day. But, when I got to Villanueva, and it was really quite temperate (no rain has yet fallen on me in two weeks) and early, I decided to carry on another 12km to Villacarrillo, making much more even stages on the way to Úbeda.

Jaén's really quite extraordinary monoculture of olives starts around Beas. In many places you can't see another plant. 56 million of them in the province, apparently, more than one for every Spaniard.

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In my hotel in Villacarillo (the Sierra Las Villas, 40€, very nice, a full bath 2 days running), the menú boasted that all their dishes are made with extra virgin olive oil - "el oro líquido de nuestra tierra". And they had their own branded bottles on each table (a picual, quite tangy).

According to the paper on the zinc, they are expecting a 116% increase in olive oil production this year, pretty much back back to 2022 levels, after last year's catastrophic drought failure. And looking forward to the 4m days of work harvesting the olives will bring over the next few weeks.

Miguel Hernandéz wrote:

Andaluces de Jaén,
aceituneros altivos,
pregunta mi alma: ¿de quién,
de quién son estos olivos?

Jaén, levántate brava
sobre tus piedras lunares,
no vayas a ser esclava
con todos tus olivares.

Dentro de la claridad
del aceite y sus aromas,
indican tu libertad
la libertad de tus lomas.

After dusk I went to the town's edge and had a look westwards in the hope of seeing the comet, but it was just a dark balcony over the never-ending olive groves, with the rising nearly full moon struggling to be visible through the clouds to the east.
 
The first rain to fall on me, drizzly dull morning, almost Cumbrian other than the temperature. It's back down in the mid 20s today, thank goodness. I mentioned to somebody in the bar last night that my highest temperature of this year has been 24°.

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Back out in the campo, between another few tens of thousands of olives. They must use hundreds of millions of litres of herbicide to kill every competitor plant. There was one half hectare patch of olives that hadn't had weedkiller for a couple of years - presumably the owner was dead, or eccentric. It had brambles, and patches of grasses, and some rosemary and other plants, and was the only place in 33km where I heard birdsong today.

I'm sleeping tonight in Torreperogil. It's a bit of a dump, and clearly was in Machado's time (but I still had possibly the best salmorejo I've ever tasted, just as a tapa to go with my radler):

A dos leguas de Úbeda, la Torre
de Pero Gil, bajo este sol de fuego,
triste burgo de España ...
¡Agria melancolía
como asperón de hierro
que raspa el corazón! ¡Amurallada
piedad, erguida en este basurero!...

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The 2024 Camino guides will be coming out little by little. Here is a collection of the ones that are out so far.
The first rain to fall on me, drizzly dull morning, almost Cumbrian other than the temperature. It's back down in the mid 20s today, thank goodness. I mentioned to somebody in the bar last night that my highest temperature of this year has been 24°.

Back out in the campo, between another few tens of thousands of olives. They must use hundreds of millions of litres of herbicide to kill every competitor plant. There was one half hectare patch of olives that hadn't had weedkiller for a couple of years - presumably the owner was dead, or eccentric. It had brambles, and patches of grasses, and some rosemary and other plants, and was the only place in 33km where I heard birdsong today.

I'm sleeping tonight in Torreperogil. It's a bit of a dump, and clearly was in Machado's time (but I still had possibly the best salmorejo I've ever tasted, just as a tapa to go with my radler):

A dos leguas de Úbeda, la Torre
de Pero Gil, bajo este sol de fuego,
triste burgo de España ...
¡Agria melancolía
como asperón de hierro
que raspa el corazón! ¡Amurallada
piedad, erguida en este basurero!...

View attachment 179233
Such a beautiful scene. And two new words: salmorejo, and Radler. I thought the latter was a wee dog, motif for ladies bags and purses!
 
I am somewhat in shock! Alan Sykes orders a ‘radler’ no less!
Pretty please.. order a Clara or a Clarita and make sure it is a ‘cerveza con limon’.
A ‘radler’ is a German/Dutch concoction imposed by the large multinational breweries on Spain. Added sugar and out of a tin… get the real mccoy instead. Freshly mixed it is fab, the equivalent of a lemonade shandy (in France a ‘panaché’).
Bon voyage et bonne dégustation! Cheers!
 
3rd Edition. Vital content training & pack guides avoid common mistakes, bed bugs etc
In many places you can't see another plant.
There was one half hectare patch of olives that hadn't had weedkiller for a couple of years - presumably the owner was dead, or eccentric. It had brambles, and patches of grasses, and some rosemary and other plants, and was the only place in 33km where I heard birdsong today.
How depressing.
I do wonder who and where bio (organic in NA parlance) Spanish olive oil comes from. And what those fields look like.
 
How depressing.
I do wonder who and where bio (organic in NA parlance) Spanish olive oil comes from. And what those fields look like.
Micheal Portillo, an British ex politician now TV documentary presenter,, who is also half Spainish,,, has showing his Portillo in Andalucía,,, episode 3 i think is based in and around Córdoba,, he visits an organic olive farm,, where the waste etc is returned to the soil,, and some video of this place,, and across the fence where it is barren is quite amazing!!
 
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Another day mostly "entre olivos". At Úbeda, the halfway point, San Juan de la Cruz' museum is shut on Thursdays, so I decided to carry on and stay two nights in Baeza, returning to Úbeda tomorrow ("Y la encina negra,
a medio camino
de Úbeda a Baeza") mostly on a ridge with occasional views of the Guadalquivir in the valley below, and on to the Sierra Mágina, with stormy clouds over higher mountains even further south, which can only have been the Sierra Nevada. As Machado put it:

... los grises olivares. Por el fondo
del valle el rio el agua turbia lleva.
Tiene Cazorla nieve,
y Mágina, tormenta

According to the TV news, the first snow of this winter has just fallen on the Sierra Nevada, but none on Cazorla yet, as far as I could see.

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Baeza is delightful, an astonishing stone quarry of mainly medieval styles. A rare Andalusian romanesque church (mostly the gothic had taken over when the reconquista pushed further into Granada).

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The sort of place where the unemployment benefit office is a renaissance palace, and the Mas y Mas supermarket hidden behind an original 18th century façade.

Round the corner from my hotel is the Gaspar Becerra art school, named after local lad made good. Unfortunately none of his works survive in the area, but the gardens around the school have some copies of Rodin and so on. The school is on the site of one of St John of the Cross' original barefoot carmelite monasteries, which was only pulled down in the 1970s.

The full moon just made it even more special:

Desde mi ventana,
¡campo de Baeza,
a la luna clara!
¡Montes de Cazorla,
Aznaitín y Mágina!
¡De luna y de piedra
también los cachorros
de Sierra Morena!

The teenage Lorca came here in 1916 and met Machado. Lorca played piano music by de Falla, and Machado recited Rubén Darío. Previously, Lorca had thought music was going to be his vocation, but this meeting apparently made him decide to pursue a career in writing. Changing literary history - and possibly shortening his life by 40 years, as autocrats seem less inclined to shoot musicians than they do writers. Machado was later to write his younger friend's angry poetic obituary:

"Que fue en Granada el crimen
sabed - ¡pobre Granada!-, ¡en su Granada!"
 
The 2024 Camino guides will be coming out little by little. Here is a collection of the ones that are out so far.
The melancholy of olive monocultures and murdered poets. I have a photo of one of Lorca's poems on a wall in Leiden, prophetic.

De profundis
Los cien enamorados
duermen para siempre
bajo la tierra seca.
Andalucía tiene
largos caminos rojos.
Córdoba, olivos verdes
donde poner cien cruces,
que los recuerden.
Los cien enamora

duermen para siempre.

A rare Andalusian romanesque church
Oh! Exquisite simplicity. Did you get to see inside?
 
A lovely walk with no rucksack, back through the olive groves, along the senda de San Antonio, to Úbeda to see the San Juan de la Cruz museum. The cell where he died in 1591 was given a bit of a "make over" when he got made a saint in 1726. As was the chapel where he was first buried. And there are an astonishing number of almost jaw-droppingly bad 17th and 18th century portraits of him talking with "el Nazareno", or giving communion to Santa Teresa de Jesus.

Although it took him more than a century to get canonised, it was obvious very early on that he would be, leading to some unseemly wrangling over his remains. Most of him was moved from Úbeda to Segovia a few years after his death, but, on papal orders, two of his limbs were subsequently returned by Segovia to Úbeda - the origin of the phrase "it cost them an arm and a leg".

I've enjoyed my days in the twin (World Heritage) cities very much indeed -

Entre Úbeda y Baeza
- loma de las dos hermanas:
Baeza, pobre y señora;
Úbeda, reina y gitana

Baeza's balcony looking over the valley below was spectacular at dusk, with the sunset turning the valley to blood. Then a pleasant laid back and gentle paseo, and so to bed.

I have a photo of one of Lorca's poems on a wall in Leiden, prophetic.
Depressingly prophetic. As was his quote:

Un muerto en España está más vivo como muerto que en ningún sitio del mundo
 
And there are an astonishing number of almost jaw-droppingly bad 17th and 18th century portraits
Predictable for those periods, but I'm letting my prejudice show.

Entre Úbeda y Baeza
- loma de las dos hermanas:
Baeza, pobre y señora;
Úbeda, reina y gitana
I wouldn't be likely to walk down in that neck of the woods, biased as I am for the North. But as usual these places come alive with your descriptions and quotes. Very enjoyable read, as I'm standing in an interminable immigration queue. Thanks, Alan.
 
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Micheal Portillo, an British ex politician now TV documentary presenter,, who is also half Spainish,,, has showing his Portillo in Andalucía,,, episode 3 i think is based in and around Córdoba,, he visits an organic olive farm,, where the waste etc is returned to the soil,, and some video of this place,, and across the fence where it is barren is quite amazing!!
I thought of him as I passed this railway station on the Sagunto this spring… en route to Soria.

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A fairly flat quiet day through the olives, quite a lot on a vía verde near the Guadalimar river course. Crossing it to see the site of the Ibero-Punic-Roman city of Cástulo. Himilce, Hannibal's wife, is believed to have come from here. There's a madly impressive mosaic floor,

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otherwise most of the good stuff has been moved to the archaeology museum in Linares, 6km further on, where I sleep tonight.

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Linares and Baeza were old rivals - the saying goes, "Baeza quiere pares, y no quiere Linares". Baeza was rural and conservative, Linares, with its extensive copper and lead mines, industrial and more liberal.

Looking north from Linares, I thought I could see a slight gap in the Sierra Morena, presumably the pass that will take me into La Mancha in a couple of days.
 
There's a madly impressive mosaic floor,
Oh, my. No kidding. (Scanning your post too quickly at first, I thought you'd sad 'mildly,' which would have been even more understated than usual.)

Over one Sierra, facing another. A wonderful place to be on any camino. Another Parque Natural looks to be ahead, with more topographic wrinkles. Looking forward to seeing how you make your way onward.
 
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On the way out of Linares I found myself passing the Plaza de Toros where Manolete was gored to death. Leaving me with an irritating Gilbert & Sullivan earworm for the next several km - "that celebrated cultivated underrated nobleman the Duke of Plaza Toro". Mozart's sunny Andalusian opera seemed the best way to suppress it, especially on my last full day in sunny Andalusia, and an earworm of Figaro is never a problem.

The immense ocean of olives continued, occasionally passing old mine workings, and lots of hunters. Also several tractors spraying the olives with water to get a last plumpness before the imminent harvest. I shall be slightly sad to leave Jaén tomorrow - four days of its majestic sierras, and five of its olive monoculture.

I sleep tonight in La Carolina, a new town set up in the 1760s to help defend (and populate) the previously bandit-ridden border area between Andalusia and La Mancha. Theoretically, I am now on the Camino de Santiago Mozárabe por Ciudad Real, but I've yet to see a yellow arrow, and mapy.cz doesn't mark it in blue. Álvaro Lazaga came this way a few years ago, but he stayed in nearby Vilches before crossing over the pass.

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First stop was Santa Elena, another new town, and the last stop in Andalusia. Then into the Natural Park of Despeñaperros. Passing the battleground of Las Navas de Tolosa, where in 1212 three Spanish Christian kings, usually rivals, came together in a papal crusade and won one of the most important victories of the reconquista, establishing the bridgehead in Andalusia. The heavily defended narrow passes, reinforced with troops from north Africa, initially proved too difficult for the Christians to turn, but a local shepherd (who in some accounts was San Isidro returned from the dead) let the kings know about an undefended route, enabling the arabs to be attacked from behind and, eventually, routed.

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The woods were a delight. And "these were forests ancient as the hills, enfolding sunny spots of greenery". Some quite strenuous ups and downs, but the wonderful smell of warm pine everywhere, often helped along by some dessicated cistus, thyme, flowering rosemary, pungent sage, even a little lavender. And a few oaks with their bark stripped for cork - furthest from Portugal that I can remember seeing that.

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And occasional long views back over the increasingly hazy sierras of Jaén and (possibly) Granada.

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At about 3pm, I reached a little refuge hut at just over 1000m called the Collado de la Aviación. This had been used as a look out base by republican forces to give advance warning of fascist bombers heading for Madrid. A very nice hut, with two shelves to sleep on, and a big chimney.

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A perfect place to spend the night, it seemed. Sadly, I simply couldn't find a water source - there must be one, as there were some ruined farm buildings nearby, and the republicans wouldn't lug water all the way up. So I had to carry on, across the valley from the Cerro de Los Órganos monumento natural,

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past some prehistoric cave paintings (virtually invisible to my eye), and on to a truck stop, La Teja, just in Ciudad Real province. My first ever footsteps in this province - of the mainland ones, only the three Pays Basque ones left for me to cross on camino.
 
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Sadly, I simply couldn't find a water source - there must be one, as there were some ruined farm buildings nearby, and the republicans wouldn't lug water all the way up.

I wonder if that’s why the farm was abandoned ….

There might have been a well that simply dried up.

Shame you couldn’t stay there - it looks cosy, with the kindling ready laid, wood for the evening and a coffee pot - which leads one to believe that there must be water somewhere thereabouts. Salt and garlic (?) too. (But no biscuits left!)

Someone left the wherewithal for an overnight stay - a hunter, perhaps?
Hmm .. no cooking pot …

Okay - my imagination is ready to run away with me …

Buen Camino, Alan!
 
A selection of Camino Jewellery
First stop in the morning was the Venta de Cárdenas, possible inspiration for Cervantes' Cardenio, "el loco de Sierra Morena".

"La gran Sierra Negra" will only be a memory by tomorrow, or the next day at the latest, as the autumnal ochres, yellows and red of the gently undulating Manchegan plain stretch endlessly northwards.

I detoured to visit Viso del Marqués, where Álvaro Bazán, the marquess of Santa Cruz built himself an amazingly hubristic palace - to the extent that Philip II, after visiting, even nicked some of the ideas for the Escorial. 8000 square meters of frescoes - roughly two acres - plus sculptures of Bazán as Mars and Poseidon.

San Juan de la Cruz, passing by while building works were underway, was told he really should go and have a look at the amazing structure. His response was "[nosotros] no andamos por ver, sino por no ver." It's a view almost exactly 180° away from my own. But on this occasion he might have had a point, as the words "vulgar" and "ostentatious" were the first ones that jumped to my mind.

Santa Cruz died of typhus in February 1588, holding the rank of capitán general de la empresa de Inghlaterra. Leaving a great "what if?" of history. What if the Armada against England that year had been commanded by the (co-)victor of Lepanto, undefeated in nearly 50 years of sea warfare, and not by the incompetent and inexperienced Medina Sidonia? Cervantes (who was injured at Lepanto) called him: "el padre de los soldados, por aquel venturoso y jamás vencido capitán don Álvaro de Bazán, marqués de Santa Cruz".

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as the words "vulgar" and "ostentatious" were the first ones that jumped to my mind.
Grotesque.

Leaving a great "what if?" of history. What if the Armada against England that year had been commanded by the (co-)victor of Lepanto, undefeated in nearly 50 years of sea warfare, and not by the incompetent and inexperienced Medina Sidonia? As Cervantes called him: "el padre de los soldados, por aquel venturoso y jamás vencido capitán don Álvaro de Bazán, marqués de Santa Cruz".
Hard to imagine!
 
The truckstop last night was so-so. Nothing wrong with the people - truckers and pilgrims are amongst the only people in Spain who go to bed and get up early. But right by the motorway, with its constant din. So I was happy to be out and en route by the half moon light by 7am. Expecting a long day to Valdepeñas: 10 hours minimum, I thought. Forgetting that it was almost entirely flat, and I've got so used to slow progress in the sierras recently - it took me two hours to cover 3km over a tough patch over Despeñaperros on Monday. Four hours and I was having my second coffee at Santa Cruz de Mudela, the half way point. Charles de Daviller, writing in the 1860s, noted "Entre Santa Cruz de Mudela y Valdepeñas, un trayecto que se hace en menos de una hora en diligencia, solo se ven viñas por ambos lados." On foot it's about four hours and the vine monoculture is now broken up by some cereals, and a few olives. But the vines dominate the nearer you get to Valdepeñas.

By keeping in 5th gear virtually all day, I reached the town's central plaza by 3.45pm, ready for lunch. Four or five apparently identical tabernas or restaurants, and no time to investigate them before the comedors started closing, so I just chose the noisiest (San Antonio). Outstanding. A salad of partridge, honey, lettuce and walnuts, with a glass of last year's rough red. Then a pork cheek slow-cooked in Valdepeñas red, and a glass of heavily oaked, Burgundy-like five year old Valdepeñas to go with it. All on the 17.80€ menu del día. Yum.

Still leaving plenty of time to check out the outstanding Museo del Vino, with its history of winemaking in the area going back 2500 years, and its many admirers over the ages, from Cervantes and Philip II to Washington Irving and Unamuno. Also some antique equipment, some of which I was still using when I worked in the vines in France in the late 70s and early 80s - a manual corking machine was almost painfully familiar from corking over 2000 bottles one week when a barrel needed emptying in a hurry.

I like Valdepeñas very much. It's an ugly town, but seems a happy one, and clearly prosperous.

I've drunk DO wines in situ including Rueda in Rueda on the Sureste, Campo de Borja in Borja, on the Castellano-Aragonés, Bierzo in the Bierzo on the Olvidado, Toro in Toro on the Levante, and now Valdepeñas in Valdepeñas, but can't think of any others in Spain.
 
The one from Galicia (the round) and the one from Castilla & Leon. Individually numbered and made by the same people that make the ones you see on your walk.
Perfect memento/gift in a presentation box. Engraving available, 25 character max.
To the east of Valdepeñaa the land used to be run by the Order of Santiago, and to the west by that of Calatrava. I'm heading west. It took 5km to get into open country from central town, passing huge bodegas with vast stainless steel vats presumably well filled with the local wine.

After that it was entirely off tarmac and, at last, away from the noise of the motorway - 200km away from both Madrid and Córdova, according to the sign. Vines and olives. Most of the vines trellised for mechanical harvesting, but a few 30+ year old souches still hand picked. Some of them had already been pruned - once my favorite job of the year, but I doubt my back would enjoy the stooping now. A beautiful solitary elm, in the middle of a field of vines, with the waning moon still just visible overhead, made a very pleasant place to pause in the shade and eat my morning tangerines.

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Flagging slightly, Verdi's Forza del Destino seemed the obvious choice of music, and the vindictive Don Carlo was wondering why Alvaro "trema a Calatrava il nome" when Moral de Calatrava, today's destination, came into view, preceded by the usual stretch of fly-tipping. Moral has its own DO for olive oil, and there were some impressive centenarian trees on the way into town.

The surrounding hills are very pretty, and volcanic - one was active into the 1590s. Apparently the Campo de Calatrava is the largest volcanic field in Spain, with lots of CO² emissions, and, I think, some warm sulphuric springs ahead.
 
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It took 3km of tarmac before getting out on to a dirt track again. With a solitary Don Quixote wind mill on the summit above, and a dozen or more wind turbines, best not tilted against. According to a panel, thus was where Don Quixote mistook a flock of sheep for an army, charging against them, and getting injured by the shepherds chucking stones at him.

There are Ruta de Quijote signposts at regular intervals, and some of them have a discrete camino de Santiago sticker on them - the first yellow arrows I've seen since Murcia, over a fortnight ago.

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After an eagle passed overhead, I briefly sent airborne the largest mustering of storks I've ever seen - certainly in the 100s.

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Getting to Almagro by 11am - still not used to the extra speed of the flat. I had been looking forward to spending a couple of hours in the siglo d'oro, and probably sleeping in one of "los pueblos más bonitos de España". Sadly, the National Theatre Museum is shut. The Plaza Major is gorgeous, up there with Tembleque and Salamanca, but not enough for a whole afternoon, even with the impressive equestrian statue of Diego de Almagro, one of the conquistadors of Chile.

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So I carried on to Ciudad Real instead - partly spurred on by the realization that Almagro's hoteliers, where not sold out, were indulging in some understandable weekend price gouging - hotels that would have been 40-50€ on Wednesday were 80-120 tonight, and the parador had gone from 85€ to 193€.

Ciudad Real seems pleasant, with an energetic paseo of well dressed and well groomed locals enjoying the start of the weekend. The Camino Manchego starts here, and mapy.cz marks it with a blue line, so I should have to spend less time nervously checking my location from now on.

Did you get photos (She asks, greedily)?
Hélas, non.
 
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Leaving Ciudad Real by its impressive Puerto de Toledo

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and joining the Camino Manchego means I am now on a mapy.cz blue line, as well as encountering (some) more yellow arrows. Mundicamino has information on the Manchego, even if Gronze doesn't. Crossing over the sluggish Guadiana and, mostly, near the AVE line, with trains crashing past to and from Seville.

Malagón, today's destination, is the third of the "huellas de Santa Teresa" towns I've visited so far. The site of the third convent she founded, and the only one still functioning as a closed convent more or less in the buildings she established. Somehow surviving the French, the desamortización of Mendizábal and the Civil War. There's a museum on site, with documents she signed and a reproduction of her cell (the real one is in the closed convent) and some relics, including a piece of cloth with blood from her death bed.

A longish day to Urda tomorrow, but at least the clocks changing gives me an hour earlier in the morning to get cracking. And, unlike today, a village en route to take in some calories and rest.
 
It took 3km of tarmac before getting out on to a dirt track again. With a solitary Don Quixote wind mill on the summit above, and a dozen or more wind turbines, best not tilted against. According to a panel, thus was where Don Quixote mistook a flock of sheep for an army, charging against them, and getting injured by the shepherds chucking stones at him.

There are Ruta de Quijote signposts at regular intervals, and some of them have a discrete camino de Santiago sticker on them - the first yellow arrows I've seen since Murcia, over a fortnight ago.

View attachment 179664

After an eagle passed overhead, I briefly sent airborne the largest mustering of storks I've ever seen - certainly in the 100s.

View attachment 179665

Getting to Almagro by 11am - still not used to the extra speed of the flat. I had been looking forward to spending a couple of hours in the siglo d'oro, and probably sleeping in one of "los pueblos más bonitos de España". Sadly, the National Theatre Museum is shut. The Plaza Major is gorgeous, up there with Tembleque and Salamanca, but not enough for a whole afternoon, even with the impressive equestrian statue of Diego de Almagro, one of the conquistadors of Chile.

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So I carried on to Ciudad Real instead - partly spurred on by the realization that Almagro's hoteliers, where not sold out, were indulging in some understandable weekend price gouging - hotels that would have been 40-50€ on Wednesday were 80-120 tonight, and the parador had gone from 85€ to 193€.

Ciudad Real seems pleasant, with an energetic paseo of well dressed and well groomed locals enjoying the start of the weekend. The Camino Manchego starts here, and mapy.cz marks it with a blue line, so I should have to spend less time nervously checking my location from now on.


Hélas, non.
Tembleque… mon amour!!
 
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The camouflage jackets of the Sunday hunters were out in force, meaning the bars were open at 7, and I was fueled and en camino by 7.20, almost in daylight thanks to the time change. The previous day I'd seen dozens of rabbits, and 100s of burrows, and felt sorry for them digging in the hard dry Manchegan soil, compared to my soft damp Cumbrian earth.

A dozen km further on and Fuente de Fresno appeared, with more coffee and tostada to take me over the foothills of the Montes de Toledo. Being a pilgrim here is rare, so people chat to you in bars and so on, but not so rare that you're regarded as weird - which had occasionally been the experience in the previous couple of weeks.

For several km, the camino coincides with the Cañada Real Soriana Oriental, an old friend previously encountered on several caminos, an ancient transhumance route running 800km between Soria and Seville. A memorial cross a few km from Fresno to a Franciscan anti-republican activist shot in 1936 was a sad reminder to a less pleasant part of Spain's past. Further on was a sign saying that the farmer was participating in attempts to reintroduce the Iberian lynx. I didn't see one, but was briefly joined by a peregrine falcon - a fellow pilgrim, rather faster than me.

Urda, today's destination, finally appeared in the distance rather after 3pm, and proved to be determined noisily to enjoy its Sunday. As, limping slightly after my third 60,000 step day of this camino, did I (well, not noisily).
 
I can't imagine a 60,000 step day, finished at 3, and won't likely ever wander where you are right now. But oh my - your posts are making up for a lot of the less interesting content here.

ancient transhumance route running 800km between Soria and Seville.
Between....what and what? Astonishing.
So I had to go looking. You already know this, Alan, but for the rest of us who only think of the Lana when thinking of transhumance in Spain, here are some links really worth exploring:

limping slslightly
May that just be transient overuse!

The previous day I'd seen dozens of rabbits, and 100s of burrows, and felt sorry for them digging in the hard dry Manchegan soil, compared to my soft damp Cumbrian earth.
Lynx and Peregrines no doubt subsisting on those tough as nails rabbits.
Sounds like a perfect day.
 
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here are some links really worth exploring:
Wow! Both of those websites are just full of interesting information. Lots to read and absorb. Thanks so much for digging them up and sharing them. We often see transhumance corridors in Andalucia, including many in the Cazorla P.N. area that Alan just crossed. They are clearly laid out on the IGN maps.
 
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Oh, how I echo the relief intimated by @VNwalking in finding valuable information, always shared generously by you, Alan.
I love the sound of the words transhumance, and Cañada. I know little, but they tell of times past, and civility. And respect for the natural rhythm of how life moves.
I will now reluctantly do some housework, but then, I too will get lost in the links. 😇
(It is a bank holiday, I can excuse myself)

Well, the message from my scanning of the website offered by @VNwalking is this: people, we were here before you...
The first photo I saw is the only one I will post, aware of not wanting to hijack this lovely thread
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At some point yesterday I crossed the provincial border into Toledo, my first steps here in 10 years.

The blue camino line on mapy.cz is broken in places between Urda and Los Yébenes, but there are plenty of earth tracks heading in the right direction (more or less due north). Undulating country and then often following a little too close to the fairly busy N401 (sometimes on the narrow hard shoulder). So it goes. And no coffee between start and finish, but a much shorter day than yesterday.

Los Yébenes has many signs advertising its hunting museum, with a full sized statue of a stag in town to underline it. The museum is closed (not just because today's Monday, permanently, I got the impression). In 1809 the town had been the site of a small and inconclusive but bloody engagement between a regiment of Polish lancers and the Spanish cavalry, but which resulted in the Polish losing some banners given to them by the Empress Joséphine - causing a huge morale boost to the Spanish, and loss of face for "los infernos picaderos".

The first photo I saw is the only one I will post,
That's one of the loveliest bridges in the world, built by Trajan to cross the Tagus at Alcántara, a few 100 miles downstream from here.

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Seeing how close the Camino de Levante was on the map, I had been tempted to go back to Almonacid de Toledo to see if its Kuki Bar was as dirty and unwelcoming as I remembered it, and if the cockroaches in the municipal swimming pool/albergue were as over-keen to be friends as ever. The other way round would have been good. Some other time, perhaps.

A short day, with Orgaz at the halfway point. The castle was firmly shut up, but still looks good from outside, and I had been determined to see the Señor de Orgaz' home. There's a "visita teatrilizada" to the castle next Sunday, presumably featuring the Señor's mates Saints Stephen and St Augustine.

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Then back across the campo, now being chased by menacing black clouds. The rain arrived shortly before I reached Sonseca, preceded by one unnerving piece of sheet lightening under four seconds from its thunderclap. Nothing like the phenomenal fork of lightening almost simultaneous with its roar soon after I hit Sonseca. I think possibly the most spectacular piece of lightening of my life, but I was very glad to be safely in town when the thunderstorm - and sheeting rain - started in earnest.

Álvaro Lazaga stayed with friends in Sonseca, but I decided to take the bus in to Toledo, to see some decent paintings after a month of famine.

First stop was Santo Tomé, to see the Señor de Orgaz' burial place, and the jaw-dropping depiction of his funeral by El Greco, one of the towering masterpieces of western civilisation.

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Then across the road to his museum, and more delights, including one of his almost drone views of Toledo.

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My favourite was the side by side portraits of bishop Diego de Covarrubias, one by El Greco, the other by Sánchez Coello. Coello's is good, very good: meticulous, accurate, skilled. But somehow flat, lifeless and empty. El Greco's is vivid, full of life and character, jumping out to interact with you after nearly 500 years. It would be hard to find a more dramatic demonstration of the difference between "good" and "genius" anywhere on the planet.

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I enjoyed my afternoon and evening on Toledo's wet and occasionally lightening flashed streets, hearing many languagues and seeing many sights. But I'll be happy to get my bus back out to the empty countryside again tomorrow. Although I hope the currently still spectacular thunderstorm will have calmed down a bit by then.
 
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Gosh Alan! You bring back memories… of the infamous Kuki Bar!! So grim…

It was where I turned off left to my discovered accommodation en route to Toledo, which impressed @peregrina2000 at the time as there was a distance issue with albergues - since resolved.

I stayed in this luxe establishment at a fab rate… pool, great food and room.


More especially it allowed me to enter Toledo the ‘El Greco’ way with that unforgettable view and the added benefit of luncheon at the Parador with THAT view. I then went to see the special anniversary expo of El Greco on a pre-booked ticket.
 
A bright clear morning after last night's son et lumière. A kind lady in Toledo's turísmo, with a little help from mapy.cz, found me a route out of town walking past the El Greco miradors

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and not needing a bus to get me back on my route. Also booking me a couple of nights ahead, which had looked awkward because of the Saints holiday.

Once out of the Tagus gorge, I was once again in the wide empty campo. A little damper after the rain, but not as claggy as I'd feared. I was briefly joined by a hen harrier, my favorite raptor. And more centenarian olives.

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Well spaced towns for coffee and lunch. In one, mapy.cz told me I was on the Plaza del Generalísimo, but the street signs reassured me that it was now the Plaza de los Leones - after a knockoff sculpture of the ones in the patio in the Alhambra. There have been some pretty dodgy street names - a Calle General Mola, and one for Calvo Sotelo, and lots of love for José-Antonio, which I assume may not actually be illegal. I'm hoping Torrijos, in a couple of days, no longer has its Calle Yagüe of 10 years ago.

A nice celtiberian lion in one square. Not too far now from the Toros of Guisado .

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For a while I was on the well marked and off road "Montes de Toledo" camino to Guadalupe. 160km from Gálvez, where I sleep tonight. Wish I'd thought of that before - I loved my one visit there.

And not alas on any camino,

Alcántara is on the camino de Estrela, which goes from the Vía de la Plata at Cáceres to join the Caminho Nascente near Fundão in Portugal. Well marked with yellow arrows.
 
12 easy km took me over largely empty heathland, with the cistus still smelling pleasantly damp after the recent rain. There had been a few "camino de Melque" signs, but not enough to rely on. Mapy.cz did the job perfectly, and got me to Santa María de Melque well before the advertised opening time, but after the invigilator had already arrived and opened up.

I love visigothic churches, and this one did not disappoint. Standing completely alone, other than some remains of the farm complex that probably ensured its survival. With the Montes de Toledo for backdrop.

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A simple cruciform structure, but with an astonishing cupola covering the centre, completely original and intact, as far as I could see.

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Held up by quite chunky columns, more efficient at the job than more elegant ones - especially as the moors built a watch tower above the cupola.

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Some horseshoe arches and windows, of course.

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There is always something special about the few churches that survived the conquista. This one is probably the grandest one I've seen - it hasn't got the exquisite carvings of Santa María de Lara, or the serene beauty of Santa Lucía de Trampal, or the compact completeness of San Pedro de la Nave, but it has an imposing "presence". A theory is that there was a high status burial here, possibly with royal connections due to its proximity to the visigothic capital of Toledo.

And then on, over more heath, partly following the (currently) busy progress of the Arroyo de las Cuevas, partly on the Cañada Real Segoviana. Shortly before La Puebla de Montalbán, my fifth different crossing of the Tajo. By quite some way the least impressive one - a sluggish brown mire.

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...and ship it to Santiago for storage. You pick it up once in Santiago. Service offered by Casa Ivar (we use DHL for transportation).
Alcántara is on the camino de Estrela, which goes from the Vía de la Plata at Cáceres to join the Caminho Nascente near Fundão in Portugal. Well marked with yellow arrows.
Ah wonderful: one more route to add to the wish list! I innocently thought that part of the world was

Toros of Guisado
Those enigmatic verracos have fascinated me since learning of them. The original Osborne Toros, far better than the billboard versions, and no doubt seeing a deeper purpose than selling booze, but who knows?

A simple cruciform structure, but with an astonishing cupola covering the centre, completely original and intact, as far as I could see.
Astonishing. And much bigger than most, from the look of it.
 
The slightly tiresome rivalry between the caminos de Levante and Sureste appears to be continuing. Mapy.cz seems to be siding with the Sureste, as it sent me from Torrijos to Escalona vía Noves and Quismondo. Very pleasant, with coffee at 10km intervals, and partly on the Camino Real de Guadalupe. Less pleasant was the apparently compulsory patch of fly-tipping at the edge of each town.

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10 years ago I remember going by Maqueda, with its fine castle, and where poor Lazarillo de Tormes was only given an onion a day by the miserly priest he was working for - so he prayed for people to die, so he could feast on the funeral bakemeats.

From the edge of Quismondo I got my first glimpse of the sierras of Castilla y Léon two days ahead. Last time I went over the puerto de Arrebatacapas it was in driving rain with visibility of about half a km. This time I'm hoping for long views back down over the Manchegan plain.

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Escalona now has a line of bollards protecting walkers crossing the long narrow bridge over the Alberche - a great improvement on being terrified by lots of fast cars coming very close.

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In Escalona's handsome square I had my first sopa castellana of this camino - much later than usual. Possibly the same bar Lazarillo substituted a turnip for the chorizo his nasty blind master was expecting in his bocadillo. I also decided to walk on to Almorox to sleep, as it was a lovely afternoon, and I would find it easier to be sure of getting to the Toros of Guisando in opening hours tomorrow.
 
Almorox to Cebreros

A quiet day, mostly off tarmac, and mostly over rugged hilly country, my country. A few patches which had fire damage relatively recently - two to three years ago, I'd guess.

Three autonomous regions in one day. Breakfast in La Mancha. Elevenses in Madrid (Cadalso de los Vidrios), and then into Castilla y León, past the Toros de Guisando and on to (late) lunch in Cerbreros.

Sad to see the municipal and Guardia Civil flags all at half mast, and a lot of offerings in Cerbreros' supermarket for help for Valencia.

The Toros de Guisando were free range 10 years ago. Now in a fenced off cage. On the holiday weekend, crawling with people taking selfies. Lorca wrote:

vaca del viejo mundo
pasaba su triste lengua
sobre un hocico de sangres
derramadas en la arena,
y los toros de Guisando,
casi muerte y casi piedra,
mugieron como dos siglos
hartos de pisar la tierra.
No.
¡Que no quiero verla!

Well, I'm glad I did, but I wish they hadn't caged them.

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Cebreros is one of those places that looks close across the valley, and then takes forever to get there, with a knee and lung busting last km or more uphill.

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Sadly punctuated by some racist graffiti

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I was panting and knackered when I hit the Castrejón hotel/restaurant at about 3.58pm, expecting to be to be told to sod off. And nearly was, but a charming polyglot waiter seated me at a table, fed me, and gave me an amazing lunch, bed and breakfast deal. Even putting me out a plate of breakfast so I can get going by 7.30am, hoping to get to Ávila before dark.

A big shoutout to Cebreros' Hotel Castrejón, and the huge bath I will enjoy at 6.30am tomorrow.