Coll de Ares and Vilafames
Waking next morning it was obvious that it had been raining, not heavily, but it reminded me that I should check the weather forecast before making an attempt on the high pass at Ares. It looked ok for today but was definitely worse tomorrow, so without further deliberation I set out for the great ascent. The peaks on either side of the pass were around 1320 metres, much higher than I had ever been before, but thankfully there is a Camino rural, minor country road, that for the most part follows a valley so that there aren't too many steep climbs for the first 20km. The last ten ks are a different matter and I was very glad to have the isotonic energy drink at hand to help me on my way. The gearing on my trusty Giant (bike) meant that I didn't have to get off and push at all, despite the weight of all my gear.
The pass was a very special place with two towering peaks on either side, I took a last look
behind me towards the Ebro basin, through which I had been traveling for the last six days, before venturing through the narrow portal to the other side and the province of Valencia...
I could hardly believe my eyes. I had seen on the map that the contours here were closely packed together but that symbolic image in no way prepared me for the impact of what lay before me.
The drop was almost sheer and seemed to be without end. The further one looked the further one could see. Not only that but perched another 100 metres or so above the pass on the neighbouring peak was a complete town, hanging on the side of the rock face. I thought about going up there to take a look round but I just didn't have it in me. Instead I tried to make a few phone calls to loved ones, but without much luck.
There's a restaurant and a bar up there but quite honestly I had no appetite for anything except that magnificent view. Some children were playing in the street nearby with their mother and I wondered what it must be like to grow up in this kind of environment and see this every day of your life. I was fortunate of course as the weather was great but I expect that in winter this pass may be closed.
I spent a good deal of time making sure everything was arranged and nicely balanced on the bike. I didn't want any wobbling going on. As it turned out I didn't come down at any great speed cos there was too much to see. I kept stopping to take photos and at one point I disturbed a group of Ibex grazing at the roadside. Incredibly powerful creatures that raced out of view up the mountainside before I could get the camera out.
I thought I would never get to the bottom, the bike just kept on rolling, and I remembered that by and large I had actually been cycling uphill for the last six days, since I had left Zaragoza. It felt so good to be traveling so fast and with so little effort. I was very glad that I was not going in the opposite direction as the ascent on this side was much steeper.
There weren't a lot of villages or towns and I had only set myself the goal of reaching the first ... But I just wanted to keep going on to the next settlement, and then the next one. Besides which none of these places seemed to have any shops, and, because I wanted the bike to be as light as possible, I didn't have any food on board. So I kept going in the direction of Valencia until I reached the town of Vilafames not long after 6pm. Vilafames is a bit like Mt St Michel, perched on an enormous outcrop of some kind of red granite. The only way into the town was up. I was pretty tired and damn hungry, dreaming of what I would buy for myself at the supermarket. Luckily it was very well stocked with some of my favourite wholefood goodies, which would complement the previous nights doner kebab!
But I still hadn't found a place to camp. There was no sign of any campsite or motor caravan parking area, but on the way into town I had noticed a track leading out into the country along which some walkers were heading. Nothing for it but to go back there and investigate. Alongside the path there were terraced orchards of almond trees and olives, and maybe some other fruits, then about a kilometre out of town, I found a section that was overgrown and wild with beautiful pine trees growing up in the abandoned orchard. It was perfectly secluded but still within earshot of the town which towered above on the hillside. The ground was flat and, being sandy, beautifully receptive to my tent pegs. The weather was looking extremely iffy and I set to work on getting the tent up straight away which I had just about finished when big blots of rain started appearing on the canvas. I crawled inside amazed at my good fortune and feasted until my belly was full. There was no trouble getting off to sleep but I got woken up in the night by what sounded like somebody hitting metal railings. It was a very purposeful sound and I thought that maybe there's a gate to this place and someone has spotted the tent and is trying to stir me up. Well they would just have to try a bit harder, and I stayed exactly where I was. Not too long after that I began to hear the sounds of music. It was Saturday night of course and in Spain nobody sleeps before midnight. I felt such a boring old fart laying alone in the tent and seriously considered going out to find where the music was coming from, at which point of course it stopped . But it woke me again a little later and I listened intently because it had quite an unusual tempo, and there were definitely people singing. I was mesmerised. I took a look at the clock on my phone, it was 5:20 am and they were not only still going strong but they sounded better than they had done all night. And then suddenly it stopped again. I expected to hear people talking, cars starting up, but there was nothing, complete silence. If this had been somebody's party it had a very dramatic and sudden ending. I went off to sleep again feeling a bit puzzled, had some intense dreams and woke up again at 9 am this time with a dog barking outside the tent. I stayed put and silent and he she or it scampered off when it's walker called.
I was feeling a bit ropey and did not want to set off again on the bike. Besides which that town, Vilafames, had got me intrigued and I really wanted to go back up and explore it. I was confident that I could leave the tent where it was and after breakfasting on some excellent Spanish peaches and plums (so much tastier than what we get in England) I set out on my unladen bike with just a rucksack containing my few valuables. The old town, which is higher up the hillside is ringed around by the newer buildings at a lower level and at the gate way to the old town there's a police road block to prevent non residents from taking their cars higher up. Happily for me bikes are exempt so I was able to pedal around the ancient streets. It was an amazing place and full of flowering plants, including winter Jasmine which exuded a most powerful and attractive scent. Strangely it seemed people also cultivated ivy which was flowering and alive with the hum of bees. There was a lot to see in the town, mostly ecclesiastical and religious stuff, although there was actually a castle, but I was most interested in the museum of contemporary modern art. This was housed in an incredible building, a palace first constructed in the 14th century and was founded in 1969 by a wealthy Spanish art critic, Vicente Aguilera Cerni, who really knew what he was doing. There were pictures in there by Picasso, Miro, Warhol, Basquiat, Man Ray and countless others all beautifully presented in this unique environment.
Wherever you set your gaze there was something beautiful or interesting to look at, not an inch of space was wasted and nothing appeared to be left to chance. As art galleries go it was one of the very best I have seen and I have seen quite a few. And all for three euros! I came out feeling on top of the world, and in some way I was, quite literally. The views from the top of that hill were extraordinary. I could even see the mountain top village of Ares on the pass I had traversed yesterday, almost thirty kilometres away. But I don't think the camera picked it up.
There was something of the nature of St Ives about this town, probably because it was evident that there were a lot of artists living there. Things were colourful and a little more carefully decorated than is usual. After a little more ambling around the contorted streets I set course for my virtual campsite.
On the way back in I noticed that on the other side of the road there was a gate with metal rails and I guessed that's where last night's rhythmic rattling had come from, and the haunting music. It seemed a pity that I would never be able to identify what it was or who had been playing it so beautifully. But there we are, such is life, full of flowers that wither just as we discover their essential beauty.
It was already almost 4pm so I spent a little time planning my route for the next few days and booked myself a room in a youth hostel in Valencia as I had not had any response from warm showers. The rest of the day I spent practicing on the ukulele, writing all this up and doing some yoga and meditation. The Buddhist tradition I tend to follow is known as the Thai forest tradition and there are special observance days for practice for those who are anagarikas, or who follow eight precepts instead of the normal five. Today was a full moon so I was pleased to have the time at my disposal to spend a little extra time in formal meditation. While I was doing so the town clock chimed and I found it was impossible to continue with my mantra and counting the mala beads. And I remembered that most, maybe all Buddhist temples also have bells that are used to call the awareness back to a state of mindfulness of the present moment. Maybe this was the reason I felt so much at home with the hourly chiming of the church bells.
The full moon over Vilafames from my camping ground
