Salamanca (Again)

With about eight days of our holiday still ahead of us we decided to start heading up towards Spain’s north coast with the hope that we’d be able to enjoy a few days at the seaside before our return ferry from Bilbao.

Although it would mean crossing our earlier track we decided to return to Salamanca to visit the Museo de Historia de la Automocion de Salamanca, which we’d somehow managed to miss on our earlier visit – despite having cycled literally past its front door.  We stayed a night at a camperstop about 30km short of Salamanca at the tiny hamlet of Narros del Castilla which didn’t have much to recommend it other than some nice views and some huge falling-down walls which presumably meant that once upon a time it was a place of some significance.

Despite having a couple of MGs in its collection and not a Triumph to its name the museum was worth a visit, with a wide variety of marques on display, including a couple of Spanish makes that I’d never heard of.  A small worthless prize to anyone who can name three Spanish makes not including Seat (without using Google!).

No, not a Triumph – but nice just the same

From Salamanca we headed north again to Zamora, very nearly coming to grief on the way.  We were in a line of traffic plodding along nicely at about 50mph when the Stig’s Spanish cousin coming in the opposite direction decided to cross a solid white line to do some overtaking.  I think that I must have just had time to swerve slightly to the right before there was a massive, expensive-sounding bang – and he was gone.  I couldn’t stop immediately but pulled over about a mile down the road and was followed into a layby by a Spanish guy in a white van.  According to him, the other driver’s left-hand door mirror hit the side of our van, flew through the air and landed on his windscreen.  Fortunately the only damage to our van is a broken flue cover from the hot water heater.  If his car had been a couple of mm closer there would have been a long scrape down the side of our vehicle; a couple of inches further over and it would have been ’emotional’.

Aranjuez and Madrid

Right from the start of our holiday Denise said that she would dearly like to visit the Reina Sofia and Prado Galleries in Madrid, but as we couldn’t find any campsites in the city and really didn’t want to take the van there, we decided to stay for a few nights in Aranjuez (about 50 kilometres south of the capital) and let the train take the strain.

We stayed the night prior to Aranjuez at a camperstop at Aldeanueva de Barbarroya, which is just to the south of the Embalse de Azutan (Azutan Reservoir).  With just enough space for two vans it wasn’t the largest site we’ve visited, but with a bar in easy walking distance it met our needs extremely well.  Whilst enjoying a beer we got talking to three Belgians who had cycled from somewhere in Portugal and were intending to pedal their way all the way home to Belgium.  3,000 km – completely bonkers!

We always enjoy using the train services in the countries we visit and the 40 minute trip from Aranjuez to the Atocha station in Madrid didn’t disappoint.  Clean, comfortable, on-time and at eight pounds a head for the return journey, what’s not to like?

Fortunately both the galleries are within easy walking distance of the station.  We started with the Reina Sofia which has an outstanding collection of modern art, including works by Dali and, of course, Picasso.  I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not a great fan of most modern art, but their coverage of the Spanish Civil War period was interesting.  The star of the show was Picasso’s Guernica, which was way beyond my understanding.
The Prado was equally impressive, though I’m afraid that after the first few hundred paintings my ability to appreciate each and every masterpiece starts to wane – and the Prado has thousands.  Call me a philistine – and you’d be right.

Aranjuez is yet another place that we’d visited previously, though this time we could at least remember our fleeting visit back in 2003.  As a ‘royal city’ the architecture is predictably impressive – apparently until 1752 only people with royal connections were allowed to live in the city – which may account for the fact that there are no well-preserved slums.

Trujillo and the heart of Spain

We’d originally planned to stay in Caceres for four nights but the presence of the film crew in the old city rather ruined it for us.  We still loved the age and character of the place, but being a little frustrated at not being able to ramble at will we decided to move after two and when Thursday morning dawned we headed the 40 or so miles east to Trujillo.

Trujillo is yet another place that we remember visiting in the course of our travels in 2003, but yet again when we arrived we struggled to remember anything about it.  Perhaps we were like American tourists (if there are any Americans who chance upon this blog I apologise for casting you all in the same dim light) and did all our sightseeing at high speed from a moving vehicle (“if this is Thursday we must be in Trujillo”) or more likely senility has now taken a firm hold.
View of TrujilloAnyway, arriving in this lovely and ancient town we looked forward to getting stuck into some serious rambling, only to find …………. yes, the place was also full of film crew, fully intent on recreating a mythical world for the entertainment of all those who believe that dragons are real and can’t be bothered to get off their arses to visit the real world.  Fortunately, the layout of Trujillo is such that despite some restrictions we could still get to see many of the beautiful buildings and take in some magnificent views of the city and surrounding countryside.

Film crew filling the main square at Trujillo – HBO making a takeover bid for Central Spain

Leaving Trujillo we continued heading east across more lovely scenery, rising at times to a couple of thousand feet before dropping down to vast and largely empty plains (except for several billion olive trees) interrupted by the occasional village or small town.  At one point we stopped to admire the view at a mountain pass to be told by a Dutch couple that they’d seen vultures and a ‘black ostrich’.  I thought of alerting the Spanish Zoological Society to this rare sighting before  rumbling that something might perhaps have been lost in translation – for ostrich read stork! 

We spent the night at a camperstop at Aldeanueva de Barbarroya – only two spaces but a nice bar in staggering distance.  Perfect.

Coria and Caceres

Leaving Rodrigo we headed south, once again sticking to the virtually empty ‘N roads’, through the Sierra de Gata to the small provincial town of Coria where we spent the night on a camperstop outside the local sports centre.  We had a quiet (we found out later that we’d arrived at the back end of public holiday) beer in a small square next to the obligatory cathedral (every town with a population of more than 10 seems to have one) and enjoyed the view out over the River Alagon.

Part of the walls of Coria
Part of the walls of Coria

Our drive to Caceres yesterday morning took us across the River Tajo which has been dammed to produce a large reservoir, the Embalse de Alcantara, which provided some more fine views but looked to be worryingly empty for so early in the year.  The campsite in Caceres is next to the local football stadium, a few miles outside the city, so this morning we took the bus and managed to find our way into the heart of the old city which as a UNESCO world heritage site has a reputation for being both beautiful and very original. 

In point of fact its so original that the producers of ‘House of the Dragon’ (a Game of Thrones spin-off) decided to film part of their second series there – so the place was packed to the ramparts with the film crew and their hundreds of hangers-on.  On the one hand it meant that access to some parts of the walled city was quite difficult, but on the other hand the film crew were going out of their way to make the place appear as it must have looked in the fifteenth century.

Moving the props around – part of the not so glamorous side of film making. Spoiler Alert – I think that someone must die in one of the episodes!
The horses look okay, but I don’t believe the Targaryens ever dressed like that…….

Ciudad Rodrigo

Ciudad Rodrigo lies only about a hundred miles to the south and west of Salamanca.  We could have followed the excellent motorway that runs directly from one to the other but chose instead to stray slightly off the beaten track.  This part of central Spain is vast and largely empty, which is to say that towns are few and far between and the distances from one village to the next are much greater than in other parts of Europe we’ve visited.  I don’t know whether or not the land is fertile, but very few crops seem to be grown and where the land is put to use it seems largely for beef production.  Many of the ‘fields’ we saw were literally hundreds of acres with a few cattle finding shelter under isolated oak trees.

Our arrival in Rodrigo brought back vivid flashbacks of our Portugal experience.  I don’t know if we put the wrong numbers into the satnav, or perhaps the  coordinates given on the website were wrong, but as the directions took us further and further into the narrow lanes of the walled city we started to have one of those conversations that starts “this doesn’t look right ……..” and swiftly turns into “how the hell do we get out of here”.  Fortunately, being British we were able to ‘keep calm and carry on’ and I’m sure we’ll be fine once the nightmares stop!

The narrow streets of Ciudad Rodrigo Just look at those narrow lanes (shudder)!

The campsite, when we eventually found it, is just across the River Agueda from the city – a short walk, if you don’t mind skipping across a few stepping stones and a long pull up a fairly steep hill.  The city itself is lovely and, at this time of year at least, fairly tourist free.  Some of the buildings, especially the tower of the cathedral, show signs of the battering it took in January 1812 when Wellington’s army laid siege to the French garrison and gave the walls a ‘damn good thrashing’ before their succesful, but particulary bloody, assault. 
The River Agueda

The cathedral at Ciudad Rodrigo You can still see some of cannonball impacts on the cathedral tower

We enjoyed a coffee and some churros in the warm spring sunshine; all-in-all a very nice place to visit – but don’t take your motorhome into the city unless you want to be in therapy for quite some time!
Ciudad Rodrigo

Salamanca, and not much else.

Having arrived at the campsite on Tuesday afternoon we decided to  treat Wednesday as a day off and did very little other than  have a general sort-out, enjoy a beer in the bar and get the bikes off the back of the van.  In doing so we noticed that Denise’s bike had a slow puncture, so the following day we set off into Salamanca (around five miles along an excellent cyclepath) stopping along the way at a local bike shop who kindly replaced the innertube for the princely sum of eight euros.

Salamanca is an ancient university town (a bit like Oxford without the traffic problems) and, despite having been well and truly hammered over the years in the course of various wars, boasts some beautiful architecture and a lovely ambiance – admittedly, wall-to-wall sunshine helps with the latter.  The cyclepath took us as far as the Roman Bridge over the River Tormes from where we walked up into the heart of the old city.

The Roman Bridge at Salamanca The Roman Bridge with the Cathedral in the background

Salamanca university buildingsAs with virtually all the Spanish cities we’ve visited over the years the cathedral is especially impressive/beautiful/spectacular (choose any similar adjective) and we got to discussing what Europe of the Middle Ages would have been like if all the wealth that was poured into the Church had been distributed more directly to the poor and needy.  Would the arts have developed in the same way?  Would wars have been so frequent and so destructive?  Answers on a postcard please – but don’t expect a response.

Salamanca CathedralAs we were leaving the old part of the city we spotted a sign outside a shop that obviously caters to all the needs of visiting tourists.  That’s Spanish enterprise for you!

Salamanca shop sign

Segovia to Salamanca

One of my ideas when we originally started (not) planning this trip was to visit the sites of some of the Peninsula War battles (Wellington’s campaign in the early 19th Century to throw Napoleon’s armies out of Portugal and Spain).  I’d recently read Mark Urban’s book ‘Rifles’, which follows the 95th Regiment of Foot through that period, and am currently part-way through Peter Snow’s ‘To War with Wellington’ which also covers the campaign.  As one of the major battles of the campaign it was obvious that Salamanca should be included in our visits.

Our route west from Segovia took us along the road from El Espina to Avila, which passes through some of the most open and sparsly populated countryside that Europe has to offer.  We’d caught glimpses of the area while watching ‘The English’ a TV series supposedly set in the US mid-west but actually filmed in this area of rolling grasslands and near-desert in the heart of Spain.  As it turned out the countryside wasn’t quite as desolate or ‘desert-like’ as I’d expected, but if you’re looking for the ‘great outdoors’ you couldn’t do much better that this.

The countryside between El Espina and Avila
The wide-open-spaces betwen El Espina and Avila

As we arrived in Avila we realised that we’d passed this way on our travels back in 2003, though on that occasion we only stopped long enough to take a couple of photos of the city walls which, having been ‘sympathetically restored’ a number of years ago, are distinctive and impressive  This time we lingered long enough to stroll though part of the old city and walk around the walls, which provide great views both of the city and the surrounding countryside.

City walls and cathedral of Avila
Avila city walls and cathedral

We arrived at the Don Quijote campsite on the  outskirts of Salamanca at around 3.30, which experience has taught us is about as late as you can leave your arrival at a campsite if it’s a) any good, and b) you haven’t booked in advance.  Just in time – we nabbed the last pitch with electricity just a few minutes before half the population of The Netherlands polled up in our wake. 

Soria to Segovia (What the Romans did for us)

We’d intended to visit Soria but failed to find a convenient parking place and decided to push on before my grumpyness could get a firm foothold.  Instead, we stopped for lunch in the walled town of El Burgo de Osma, the centre of which has the appearance of being very original and untouched by the past several centuries.  It was a pleasant place for a stroll but we eventually decided that it must have been cleverly but quite heavily rebuilt in recent years – no harm in that but it was a bit like the woodman’s axe (if the shaft and head have both been replaced it tends to detract from the originality.

The well preserved heart of El Burgo de Osma
The (perhaps too) well preserved heart of El Burgo de Osma

Our destination for the day was Segovia.  We’d planned to stay at a campsite on the outskirts of the city but arrived to find that, much to the frustration of the occupants of a couple of other vans that were trying to gain entry, and despite having an active presence on the web, the place was shut up with no sign of being in use.  In fact that did us a favour as the camperstop we ended up in was next to the bullring and only a mile’s walk from the centre of the city.

The one thing you really mustn’t miss if/when you visit Segova is the aqueduct that runs into, and across the centre of the city.  By good luck our walk into town took us along the route followed by this masterpiece of roman engineering.  Built in the second half of the First Century AD it really is a phenominal sight and despite undoubtably having been maintained over the years (a bit like the axe) it richly deserves its World Heritage status.

The roman aquaduct at Segovia
The aquaduct at Segovia – so what did the Romans ever do for us?

Spain (again). Plan, what plan?

It’s a well known, and often quoted, military axiom that no plan survives contact with the enemy.  Bearing that in mind we took particular care to ensure that this trip in the van would go completely smoothly – by not making a plan!  With four weeks in Spain ahead of us, and nowhere in particular that we wanted/needed to visit, we decided to go where the fancy takes us with no itinerary and no deadlines.

Which is all very well in theory, but we couldn’t just get off the ferry in Bilbao, sit on the quayside and ask ourselves ‘where next’?  So as every story has to have a beginning we decided to start this one in Pamplona.  The drive from Bilbao is an easy one; we stuck mainly to the ‘N’ roads which are the equivalent of British ‘A’ roads, the only real differences being that the Spanish roads are virtually empty, and have no potholes.  Pamplona is a nice city with plenty of history; unfortunately our visit didn’t coincide with the ‘running of the bulls’ but I’m not entirely sure we really fancied jogging through the streets hotly pursued by several thousand pounds of lean beef.

Denise on the ramparts on Pamplona
The city walls of Pamplona – not a bull in sight!

After a night on a camperstop we set off for Soria (yes, okay, we do have a sort of plan), enjoying the weather with temperatures in the mid 20s and of course no rain.  Spain has endured several consecutive years of above average temperatures and below average rainfall, with draught as the inevitable outcome.  We saw several wooded areas that had been scorched by fires and the only lake/reservoir we saw was virtually empty, with cattle grazing on the bed that should have been several metres under water.

We stayed the Sunday night at a campsite at  Valdeavellano de Tera just to the north of Soria.  Despite being large and reasonably well appointed it was virtually empty, the only other occupants being a French couple in a motorhome and some Dutch visitors in a 4×4.  We woke the next morning feeling a little chilly and only then realised that we were at 3,000 + feet – a bit like camping on the top of Snowdon!

 

A West Country Stag Party

This would be a pretty poor ‘Triumph Blog’ if it didn’t occasionally include some mention of Triumphs – so here goes….

Some months ago our good friend Dave Hardy suggested that we take our Stags (he and Jane have a lovely green MK2) for a short road trip to the West Country, and as he volunteered to do the route planning and hotel booking we could hardly refuse.  Despite having to delay the start by a couple of days to enable us to attend Tom and Emily’s marriage ceremony, that still left five days for a blitzkreig tour which, as it turned out, was just about right.

  • Day One.  (Monday 3rd April). Met with David, Jane and Finn (the dog) in Cirencester before enjoying a gentle cruise down to the Blue Ball Inn at Linton, stopping for a break at the Windmill at Portishead.  A topless afternoon drive along the north Somerset and Devon coast and an exciting blast up Porlock Hill – will the cars make it?…… No problem!  Joined for supper that evening by Simon and Debbie Kidner, who live just around the corner.
  • Day Two.  A lovely run across the eastern edge of Exmoor with a brief stop for coffee at Heanton Court – a Hardy ancestral home! And then down the coast for lunch and a short stroll around Boscastle, marvelling at just how high the floods went in 2004 (was it really that long ago?). Nice weather – so topless again for the afternoon run down to Fowey.  Overnight at the Ship Inn.
  • Day Three. The day started with a brief, and rather damp, ‘sea cruise’ across the Fowey River on the Bodinnick Ferry before visiting Slapton Sands for a short walk and to collect a £25 parking fine.  Followed by an interesting drive along some of the smallest and muddiest lanes that our intrepid leader could find to the Waterman’s Arms near Totnes.  Supper that evening at the nearby Maltster’s Arms. 

    In France we call zis ‘ze carwash’
  • Day Four.  Another cracking day and another opportunity to get our tops off.  Our lunchtime stop was at Lyme Regis, beloved holiday destination of Mrs Ewbank, before a pleasant drive along the coast, with great views of Chesil Beach, ending up at The New Inn at Cerne Abbas.  At supper that evening we were joined by Jane’s brother-in-law, Jeremy.
  • Day Five.  The final leg of our ‘Staggering Adventure’  took us home through some of Dorset’s most scenic countryside (topless of course) and eventually back to Cirencester. 

In all we covered just a tad short of 500 miles with no breakdowns or dramas of any kind (leaving aside the parking fine!).  Lovely places, good food and great company – what more could anyone want?

….holiday blogs, motoring obsessions and an occasional account of goings-on in the Ewbank household