We decided to head north from Andalusia to Asturias using the Ruta de la Plata. The motorway follows the route of a Roman road that connected the cities of the south to the silver mines around Merida and Astorga. Once you leave the sprawl of greater Seville the landscape empties the further north you go. In recent years rural depopulation and deprivation has become an increasingly important political issue for Spain's left wing coalition government.
An article I found in VOA summarises the situation as follows: "Five rural regions that make up 53% of Spain now have only 15% of its population, according to the National Statistics Office. Over the past 50 years, Spain's countryside has lost 28% of its population and are now known as la España vacia — or empty Spain"
The government is trying to address the issue assisted by EU grants by improving transport links and connecting remote communities to fast fibre networks. Abandoned agricultural buildings are being renovated and repurposed as shared workspaces and incentives are available for business start-ups or re-locations. Will that be enough to reverse a demographic trend that has been happening for two or more generations?
We were both involved in similar developments in Derbyshire in the late nineties and early noughties using EU objective 5b funding. Did it have an impact? I am not sure, in truth upward pressure on house prices due to rural houses being snapped up as second homes and the reduction of public sector employment probably had a more negative impact locally than the positive effects of grants aimed at economic development and diversification.
It seems something similar is happening in rural Spain. The article went on to say,
"various sources have reported selling prices for an entire village of 75 homes may be valued at €425,000. The American actress Gwyneth Paltrow recently purchased an abandoned village in Spain stating that they make an awesome Christmas gift, thus sparking interest amongst foreign investors to carry out their investment projects in Spain."
What can you say? Surely that is shocking. It's a funny old world.
How empty is empty we asked ourselves as kilometre after kilometre of prairie sized pasture or a patch of olive trees the size of Yorkshire passed by? Well the region of Extramadura is very empty indeed. Roughly twice the size of Wales it has a third of the Principality's population at just over one million people. Cardiff is a city of around 480,000 souls, Merida, the regional capital of Extramadura is a little larger than Scarborough, with a population a shade less than 60,000. Aside from the the Scottish Highlands and Islands the UK does not do empty like this. As you drive through España vacia it is tempting to romanticise its wide open spaces and magnificent scale, but would you really want to grow up here?
Attempts to counter rural deprivation are laudable but an uphill struggle. A decade ago I could have reasonably claimed to have been an expert in at least one aspect of it - improving post 16 educational attainment. How do you overcome the conundrum that the more you drive attainment upwards the more young people leave the locality for the better opportunities cities offer, leaving their home towns with skill shortages and an ageing demographic?
It's been another dull day, the van tootling along on cruise control at a steady 90kph, as we stared out of the windscreen at 'la España vacia' and chatted about this and that. Every hour or so we by-passed a bigger town, Merida, Caceres, then in-between watched rain showers drift across the empty plains, distant grey sierras half hidden in ominous looking clouds.
We parked for the night in an area autocaravanas on a minor road, just off the autovia, a few kms. north of Caceres. It did have one redeeming feature, it was flat. Arguably two, rain pelted down all night - though this made for a fitful kip it did wash storm Celia's the red dust from the van roof.
This means our solar panel will work properly whenever the sun eventually does decide to shine. We are clinging on to the positives here like flotsam from a sinking ship.
In most respects the next day was a re-run of the previous one but with solid rain rather than showers. Another 270kms up the Ruta de la Plata at a steady 90kpm, little traffic, out of Extramadura and into Castille y Leon, west of the industrial sprawl around Vallidolid, more España vacia.
At Beja we pulled off the autovia and found a Mercadona, we needed to stock-up. The campsite we are heading to on the Asturian coast is quite remote. Beja in grey weather looked like a typical bleak hill town. We recognise the type, we should feel at home in mist and drizzle, but we don't.
We arrived at our destination, Zamora, by mid-afternoon and squeezed onto the smaller of the town's two areas autocaravanas. According to the latest reviews on Searchforsites this was the one with a functioning service point and we had almost run out of water. I was pleased that the water tap was working, but not happy it was a push button type and would not take a hose adapter. Six watering can fulls later we had enough in the tank to see us through until tomorrow.
Although the outskirts of Zamora are somewhat tawdry, the old town situated on cliffs above the river Duoro is a lovely sight.
We walked along the path by the river, then across the old bridge into the town. The skies lifted slightly and occasionally the sun broke through.
The old part of the town is a mixture of Romanesque monuments among streets of modernista era shops and houses. Not everything looks well cared for, the town is workaday rather than wealthy, but attractive nonetheless.
For some reason the Plaza Major had a display of military aircraft, I have no idea what that was about.
We stopped for a coffee. Our table had a great view of the front half of a Phantom V fighter jet and an early Romanesque church, a unique combination you have to admit. At least the rain held off and we were given free churros with our cortados.
Judging from the statues in the square and somewhat gruesome posters in shop windows it seems Zamora has a big Easter event, confraternities in Klu Klux Klan style pointy hats, the whole out-pouring of collective sorrow malarkey.
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From an anthropological point of view I can see how it might be fascinating to experience, but I suspect I would find it profoundly disturbing. and if you are rationally minded it's probably an event to be avoided.
The small area autocaravanas has a nice view of the old town across the river. Consequently we were the third British van to turn up. In general as a nation we do like a view, it explains our enthusiasm for motorhomes with rear lounges, their big windows mean the occupants can appreciate the picturesque without actually moving their legs, like living in a mobile Claude glass.
What I didn't like about the place was its proximity to the riverside walk and the relatively short parking bays. Our rear overhang jutted into the pavement resulting in our bike rack becoming a hazard to local joggers and dog walkers.
I decided we should move a couple of kilometres to the other area which had more bays and a capacity for forty motorhomes. It is better designed even though all the bays require you to parallel park, which can be tricky in a 7m vehicle. Anyway I was happier here even if the view was less picturesque.
It appears to be mysteriously popular with Swedish people. Maybe they like the sense of order that comes from a dozen vans parallel parked perfectly, or more likely, as Gill observed, they tend to head south in groups in deference to their Viking forebears.
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