Meetings in the Strangest of Places

The sun was still strong as I passed through the dusty valley, blaring down relentlessly despite being a mere two hours off sunset. As I exited its gates a section of tooth-topped wall appeared over a hill. I was very close now. I was excited to say the least. Signs demanding you slow down for the town started appearing and after two more bends I was gazing up at it. High walls lower down, mainly serving to retain dirt, were capped with houses and in turn churches and public buildings on top of that. A fortress sat at the left fringe, once a refuge for the town's population in case of attack. A high, improbable wall on an adjacent hill serves to fortify the right side of the city where I stand.

Albarracin has to be one of the most beautiful towns I've seen in Europe. It sits in an arid landscape, the only trees limited to a plateau like area 5km out of the city and around the rivers. Once it would have been one of the biggest centres in the region, reflected in the strength of its engineering and the grandeur of its landmarks. Today under 2000 people remain in this beautiful, albeit isolated monument to the Aragon of old.

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I did not have time to explore the town when I first arrived. I frantically drove around, trying to find signs of where the bouldering might be through trial and error. I passed through the tunnel under the town and drove 3km through a spectacular ravine which would have once helped to protect the city from intruders. The floor of the ravine is perhaps the only easy access to the town that would have existed from that side. I could see no sign of the bouldering. I found a place to make a three point turn and quickly retreated.

The next road I took lead to the tree covered plateau and somehow managed to be correct. As I drove higher an outcrop of rich red rocks beaconed to me, sitting high above the surrounding landscape under the full grasp of the intensity of the sun, a mere fragment of the perfect sandstone that exists here. At the moment Albarracin has about five thousand problems that are actually written up in the guide. It seems there would easily be scope for that many again. 

I easily found the climbing once on that road. Shortly after the road leveled off I found a carpark on the left with a few vans and people that were clearly climbers. I parked here, quickly grabbed the crash pads and my gear and sprinted off to make the most of the daylight I had left. By daylight I'm talking 15mins until the sun set and maybe another 45mins of twilight after that. 

I stopped at the first climbing area with other climbers and started trying a random problem. I asked someone what grade it was and he said 6b. I got my hands on the lip second go but from there could push no further. The top out was incredibly slopey and had at least three more moves until you could get your body above the lip, all desperate slaps for slopes high above the ground.

I gave that one a rest and instead climbed a 6a. The top out was still slopey but it felt manageable. I had it done within three pushes. By that time it was dark so I packed my things and headed back to the river where I rested earlier. I set up my tent on the other side and started cooking at about 10:30, just enjoying the sound of the breeze in the trees and the water rustling the rocks on the river floor, all alone.

The next day I woke late and headed into town. Parking in Albarracin is free and easy to find which is always nice. I walked up a few steep, tight, cobble-stone laneways which deposited me besides the colonnades ringing the town square. The Ayuntamiento sits on the outside, displaying both the national and regional flags. Tourists, all seemingly domestic, stand on the tiled floor next to it, posing for pictures against the pillars with the surrounding landscape extending behind. 

I searched for WiFi but found nothing. A few months before a friend back home who had spent close to a year on exchange in Spain had introduced me to one of his friends that lives in Escorial, just outside Madrid. I wanted WiFi for the sole purpose of checking on our meeting arrangements. Oh well, I would have to drive an additional 60km to the arranged meeting time and risk having to wait a long time. It was no big deal.

I walked through the streets, saying hello to a few of the numerous locals who sit on ledges outside their houses for most of the daylight hours. I gazed up at the cathedral, standing on its terraced square. I crossed town, delving into its depths, getting into alleyways where I started to see no tourists at all, purely residential areas of town with no car access. I simply wandered. 

I spent three hours in the town just enjoying the atmosphere before I moved. At 2pm I got back in the car and begun the drive to Huelamo. Little did I know at the time but Huelamo is a village of around 200 people. Pablo, who I was meeting in Huelamo, would later tell me that the locals had said, “So you're from Madrid and he's from Australia? You're meeting in Huelamo?! He won't show up!”

I spent most of the drive to Huelamo guessing. Huelamo didn't appear on any of the signs so I was relying on my poorly loaded phone maps. I had a vague screen shot of a route so roughly new a couple of towns I needed to pass through. It took one hour to drive the 57km but all of a sudden I found it. A sign on the left pointed to Huelamo which stood on a hill one kilometre away. I don't know how I arrived there but I did. As I drove up the hill I saw a lone figure silhouetted against the sky, standing on the summit of a pillar of rock, towering above the city.

I started walking through the town, contemplating what to do next. I asked a few locals about WiFi and they directed me to one of the the town's two bars. They have one bar for every one hundred heads of population. I also asked if they'd seen any “extranjeros”. Outsiders. They said no. Being a small town I was hoping that word would have spread fast when someone from out of town had arrived. Maybe he wasn't here yet.

On WiFi at the bar I discover that Pablo had arrived the night before and was staying in a place called, “El Baile”. I was a little confused as I guessed it was a dance studio.

I knocked on the door. No answer. I sat down, thinking I'd give him ten minutes before I try and find him some other way. He turned up within five and introduced himself. It turned had the villagers had indeed put him up in the local dance studio. We had a standing offer to do the same that night which we gladly accepted.

We sat down at the bar, at that point two complete strangers, to get to know each other a little. The hospitality afforded to us was unmatched. Before long we a pitcher of water was brought over and we were given a plate of pasta each and some meatballs. I soon found out that the owner also wanted to take us to a neighbouring village to watch a traditional game of bowling.

In the evening we were seated in Agus', the owner of the bar and a real personality, four wheel drive. The drive to the next village took about half an hour. The game was certainly interesting. Two teams play off at once in a small, dirt arena. Using big balls they aim for ten pins, widely spaced, with the intention of knocking as many over as possible. The distance they shoot from is rather close and on their second shot even closer as they get to throw from behind.

View from our "accommodation"

On the way back we took the mountain road where Agus showed us his skills with the handbrake and told us about how he never pays fines because the only thing in his name is his car. “And the police won't take that!”, he ensured us.

Back in Huelamo we spent a bit of time at the bar before going to a barbeque with the town's young people. There is a small group of people in their twenties of so, a few kids and a few in their thirties. Huelamo, sadly, definitely has an ageing population. It was two in the morning before we were in bed on the floor of the dance studio. As I was getting off to sleep I couldn't help but think about how accommodating the whole village had been to us as outsiders and how far out of their ways they'd gone for us.

In the morning as we were leaving they said we should return for their festival later in the year. I told them I'd love to. The truth is I would but probably won't get to.