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TRAVEL REPORT
by Joan Dadd
Report on Trip to Rio Jucar - 15th/16th April 2008
Jean’s one night stand (not THAT sort!)
A coach load of U3A members set off for Alicante in April, then inland, north west to Almansa. Speeding through thousands of acres of vineyards, we arrived in the town just over 300 years too late for the Battle of Almansa, by which the Bourbons consolidated Spain, in the war of Spanish succession, leaving the Hapsburgs with a few remnants, including the Balearic islands. Almansa has gone into the Spanish language, as Waterloo has in English. 25,000 French and Spanish soldiers, and even an Irish regiment, under the command of the Earl of Galway, defeated an Anglo Portuguese army of 22,000. Of these, led by a Frenchman, Berwick, 5000 men and horses met their deaths, 12,000 were taken prisoner, and 5000 escaped to Tortosa from the carnage. The town is dominated by a huge castle built on top of the only prominence for miles, but after we had been dropped off in a shady square among the pink blossomed Judas trees, it was a long walk to it. Most members made for coffee and shops, joined a large group of local men watching a game of Petanca, strolled round the town centre or hunted in vain for the large mural depicting the battle. A town that would be well worth another longer visit.
A scenic drive through farmland and spectacular mountains, then a photo stop by one of the many hairpin bends to take in the sight of the white town of Alcala de Jucar dominating the gorge in which it stands. The sound of rushing water as the pale turquoise river fell over a large curved weir next to the tree shaded town centre is a sound rarely heard by us on the Costa Blanca. Exploring the steep narrow streets of the ancient Moorish town, where houses are built into the rock caves, was an exercise in stamina, especially as the only bars were closed. Some of the alleys were only just wide enough for one person to walk through. It was suggested by one breathless person that donkeys up and sledges down would be the obvious transport.
A few hardy souls reached the old castle, some stayed by the river bridge, others discovered a museum in a cave (admission 3 euros including a drink.) A very long tunnel hewn from the rock was illuminated at floor level with strip lights under glass and suddenly opened out to a cave overlooking the river hundreds of feet below. Even more surprising was the bar and the menu of platos combinados, with jugs of wine. Old photos on the rough hewn walls showed men making pen knives, an Albacete industry, and women sorting saffron and harvesting rice. Perhaps the bright green fields we’d passed, making the countryside look like Ireland, were paddy fields? On our way we’d also seen hundreds of steadily turning wind turbines on high ground, and even a battery of solar panels. Finally we arrived in Jalance in the Valle de Ayora.
The Hotel de Valle overlooked the winding Rio Jucar far below, the distant view rather marred by two enormous cooling towers of the nuclear power station at Confrentes. However, the wild mouflon goats on the slopes near the hotel and the unusual fountain and lookout point made from what appeared to be volcanic rock were interesting. An evening meal with plenty of wine was enjoyed, a birthday celebrated, and after a good night’s sleep and a very hearty Spanish/English buffet breakfast, Paco, our coach driver, took us to board the 60 seater motor boat at 10 am for our 30 kilometre trip on the river. At the jetty, however, a large party of disabled people and their carers was going on board. Someone had double booked, but ever resourceful Jean sorted it all out and we went to explore Confrentes, a quiet town situated on the confluence of the rivers Cabriel and Jucar. (They finish up in the Mediterranean at Cullera.) It was of great importance in the past, even from Roman times and we climbed to the viewpoint by the Ayuntamiento and Tourist Office. From the posters displayed it seemed that Confrentes was a good centre for adventure sports, white water kayaking, rock climbing, walking, etc. etc. Our legs were almost giving up with just toiling up the narrow streets! A guide unlocked iron gates to admit us to the huge Moorish castle which was being restored, the outer gate still retaining it’s original Arab towers. The town had been fought over many time in the past.
Back to the boat, which had returned, and after hearing about the safety drill and where the lifejackets were (!) we were off on the calm brilliant blue green waters of the river Jucar, which was dammed further downstream.
Our skipper explained it all in English, pointing out a castle perched hundreds of feet above, and telling us about the protected wild life.
The gorge was quite spectacular, the rocks in strange horizontal formations and of many colours, orange, yellow, green, brown, white. In places the cliffs dropped sheer down to the water, in others they were clothed with pine and other trees in many shades of green, with yellow flowering shrubs. Disembarking at the hydro electric plant’s beach, we saw our first ducks, waiting for scraps from the boat. Fishermen catch black bass in the river here. A local 25seater bus was waiting and made two journeys to get our large party up the mountain (more hairpin bends) to Cortes de Pallas. Here a magnificent 6 course meal awaited us in company with what seemed most of the young men of the town….the local workmen’s café! Typically Spanish, everyone enjoyed the food and jugs of wine or beer, even if some of us didn’t know what we were eating. The dishes of soup, we decided, were to share, all dipping in pieces of bread as we had no spoons or bowls. Manchego gazpacho was another course, we were told by the busy, cheerful café owner. Everyone felt extremely full, but some folk managed to take a short walk through the delightful clean airy town (and not too hilly!) and had a look at the beautiful church, restored in grey and white after being bombed in the Civil War.
Then it was down the hairpin bends again to the boat. Several herons flew by and someone saw a golden eagle, probably disturbed by the jolly singing of our party as we cruised back up the river!
On our way home we called in for coffee and brandy at Las Rosales near Almansa, and a few bought shoes in the brand outlet nearby. Back in Calpe by 8.30pm. and thanks to Jean for another splendid trip…even the weather obliged.
by Joan Dadd
photographs by Pat Spencer and Shirley Cuesta
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