The Lonely Road

As I ride through the empty car park, I can only imagine how unbearable this place would be at 11am on a sunny day in high season. Luckily for me, I am here at 9am and there are clouds in the sky. Even at this hour, there is one coach, one other motorbike and a street sweeping vehicle blasting out the best of 80s rock from its crackling stereo.

The Monestir de Montserrat, cradled at 725m on the side of the Serrated Mountain, was built to commemorate a vision of the Virgin Mary, seen by - predictably - shepherds. As a result, pilgrims come from far and wide to honour the Virgen de Montserrat, affectionately known as La Morenta (the little brown one!?!). This 12th-century sculpture of a regal looking Mary, holding a hippy-looking infant Jesus and a globe which the pilgrims come to touch.

I enjoy the stillness and the silence of this remarkable place before the tour buses begin to pull up, though possible not for the same reasons or with the same intensity of feeling as some other visitors.

I descend from the impressive skyline of Montserrat to the scorched valley bottom. It is 35 degrees centigrade down here, "basically, it's hotter than a snake's ass in a wagon rut".

Now this is beginning to look like the Spain in my head. That said, the endless monochrome images of brown, dusty ridges are replaced by a greener landscape as I ascend into a rugged region offering some outstanding scenic drives with no other vehicles on the road.

The temperature also drops to something beginning to resemble bearable as I travel further into the Maestrazgo Region. I sweep around one of the many bends and Morella, the principal town in this region, comes into sight. This outstanding example of a medieval fortress town perched on a conical hill top, crowned by a castle, almost causes me to lose the road as it holds my gaze. Decision made, I will stop here tonight.

The confusing, compact jumble of narrow streets, alleys and steep steps that form the centre of Morella, do not make finding a bed easy. That said, it is not too long before I am on the tourist trail...

Morelia's castle comes in three layers and is cleverly built into the caves on the summit of the hill. It well merits the strenuous ascent to savour the breathtaking views. Just as I contemplate descending the many steps back to the town, a huge thunderstorm envelops the castle and keeps me prisoner in the Zeloquia Tower.

I celebrate my freedom in a small tapas bar before heading to Daluan for food. Now I do not often rave about food places, but if you ever do get chance to sample their friendly service and hugely creative menu; take it.

Fully satiated and less than sober, on the walk back to my hotel I have an idea... It might be nothing, but it might possibly be the best photograph I have ever taken. Full of alcohol fuelled enthusiasm, I trot back to my hotel room, grab my tripod and jog towards the town wall. Once I reach the town wall, I continue to sweat along the only road in and out of town. I regularly check over my shoulder to see if my idea has any merit. It does :) I begin to set up my tripod and then, suddenly and without warning, my dream is gone. The lights that illuminate the castle and the city wall go out at midnight. Bugger. My night is over... Or is it!? ;-)