There are two direct routes to get from the Cabo de Gata to Seville and the Sherry triangle. One follows the Mediterranean coast towards Gibraltar then onwards to Cadiz. The other goes across the arid 'badlands' on the northern side of the Sierra Nevada then southwards from Seville. They're roughly equidistant. We chose the inland route because it's quieter and avoids the complications of trying to find areas autocaravanas or campsites with available pitches on the crowded Costa Tropica and Costa del Sol.
North of Almeria the A92 crosses the Tabernas desert. Though much of southern Spain looks arid, this area is the only place in Europe that technically ticks all the boxes to be officially designated as a desert. Even if you have never visited Spain the chances are if you are aged over sixty you will recognise the landscape. It provides the backdrop for Sergio Leone's 'Spaghetti Westerns'. I am not sure if it really does looks like the' Wild West' or if we have simply been conditioned by the films into believing this is the case. Whatever the truth of the matter just driving through the rocky terrain almost guarantees being assailed by an Ennio Morricone earworm.
Beyond the fractured rocky badlands the motorway crosses an arid, undulating plain. It's covered with a chequerboard of neat fruit tree plantations interspersed with solar farms. Low cliffs line the horizon to the north. Most are dotted with dozens of wind turbines. Over the past decade what were once empty uplands has become ever more productive.
The view southwards is even more spectacular, the snow covered peaks of the Sierra Nevada rise over 3000m. Mulhacén, at 3479m is the tallest mountain on the Iberian Peninsula, higher than any peak in the Pyrenees.
We planned to stay overnight at the area autocaravanas in the small city of Guadix. The place is famous for it's troglodyte dwellings hollowed out in the soft, fissured rock formations that surround the town. We've visited them previously so contented ourselves with a stroll into the city centre. Many Spanish cities have spectacular central squares. The one in Guadix is modest, it feels intimate and charming rather than grandiose.
Similarly the cathedral is quite understated, it's not some humongous Baroque monstrosity like so many in Spain, asserting a militant Counter-Reformation orthodoxy designed to subjugate the populace.
In particular the plateresque carving had a rare lightness and delicacy. I found it pleasing.
The area autocaravanas occupies the corner of a big car park. Aside from Saturdays when a market occupies the area, there is plenty of 'overspill space' if the designated motorhome bays get full.
Using the inland route west definitely makes much more sense than the busy coastal route where there's always a nagging doubt about getting a place to stay overnight.
Next day we decided to head for another free stopover at Osuna, this time on the corner of the Family Cash hypermarket carpark.
It's not a long drive - 213km - but like yesterday it passes through strikingly different landscapes. Between Guadix and the northern suburbs of Granada the A92 reaches 1390m. making Puerto de la Mora Spain's highest motorway pass.
Beyond the Granada there is a stretch of flatter ground near the airport before you reach an extensive area of undulating hills covered with olive trees. In between them big spiky outcrops dot the landscape, maybe extinct volcanoes we speculated. The scale of the plantations is remarkable, but not entirely unexpected given that Spain produces 40% of the world's olive oil.
Osuna is a classic Andalusian 'pueblo blanco'. For a medium sized town it has more than it's fair share of significant monuments. In the sixteenth century it was an important centre of power and learning. In Renaissance Spain that meant one thing - lots of big churches, monasteries and convents. Later it became associated with secular learning, local 'men of lettters' based in the Baroque palacio's built by the town's aristocratic families exchanged ideas with others across Counter Reformation Europe, a kind of mini-enlightenment developed under the watchful eye of the Inquisition. We've visited the town a few times. Whether it was the lingering effects of the virus or sightseeing fatigue, this time we got no further than the Family Cash car park!
After two free stopovers on the trot it was time rest for a couple of days somewhere we could get the outside furniture out and put our feet up. It's less than two weeks since we arrived in Santander and I've driven almost 1000 miles. Rushing about is not why we do this. So we decided to spend a couple of days at Camping Pueblo Blanco a couple of kilometres from Olvera.
The place is one of a handful of camp sites in Andalusia's rural hinterland that remain open all year. It is situated about 50 kilometres south of Osuna - an hour away. This involved driving through hill country on the 'yellow' road marked on our Michelin road atlas. I usually avoid these, but having checked the bendy bits on Google street view it looked easy enough. In the main it was, the only tricky bits were single file sections and short unmetalled stretches due to landslips resulting from Spain's six week long downpour in the early weeks of the year.
It's a very pleasing landscape hereabouts, craggy peaks and little valleys. A picturesquely situated parking place allowed us to pull over and take a photo or two. I usually avoid using the panorama feature on my phone as they seldom do justice to the view, but maybe this time...
We arrived at Camping Pueblo Blanco a little after midday. The place wasn't as busy as last year so we had a choice of pitches. Most people head up towards the top of the terraced site where you get a great view towards the mountains near Ronda. However the pitches are exposed and it's a steep road to cycle up and down. We opted to be Billy No mates on the lower pitches. They're more level and closer to the main facilities.
We offloaded the bikes and head into the town. There's a cycleway most of the way, it's not particularly well maintained but preferably to riding on the main road. Olvera is spectacularly situated on a craggy ridge. I stopped to take a photo.
By the time I had faffed about waiting for a traffic free shot Gill was out of sight. I caught up with her parking her bike by some railings, exactly where we had left them last year.
People were standing about in gaggles, many in fancy dress. It transpired we had just missed Olvera's carnival. The main parade had kicked off at 11am. and apparently just finished in the early afternoon.
We had now managed to miss two carnival processions, here and in Aguillas.
However, the celebrations continued informally. A small flat-bed truck squeezed it's way through the narrow streets. Two enormous black stacks and a mean subwoofer were strapped to the back. Behind them two guys manned the desk blasting out Big Bunny at a trillion decibels.
Following them was a tightly packed throng, a crowd of partying people. They were very jolly, drinking what looked like Manzanilla from pint sized plastic tumblers As the crowd passed us we were absorbed into it and swept along. It's difficult to find the right word to describe the vibe - some kind of sweet spot between exultant and exuberant, everyone in their happy place, including the pair of us.
The dancers moved forward a little quicker than us, so inexorably we drifted towards the back of the procession. The rear of the party was followed by half a dozen municipal workers in hi-viz with brushes and wheelie bins and a mini street cleaning truck brushing up the ticker tape and litter. A few minutes after the moveable dance party passed-by the gleaming white streets were returned to their habitual pristine state. I have no idea where British prejudice about Spain's 'mañana' culture originated. In our experience stuff gets done in Spain straightaway, efficiently, usually with good humour and a smile. Is that generally the case back home?
Almost every building in Olvera is gleaming white apart from the church and Arabic castle right at the top of the craggy escarpment that the old town occupies. After the excitement of the post carnival dance party we decided to leave climbing up there until tomorrow.
The climb up to the square beside the church is steep but the vista across the cuboid rooftops of the old town towards the olive green hills beyond makes the effort worthwhile. Literally, a breathtaking view!
The appearance of the church flummoxed me. Art history made up most of the modules of my first degree so I should be able to date most of the buildings I come across reasonably accurately. In the case of Olvera's church I managed to get it wrong by 200 years!
Compared to many of the major churches in Andalusia the exterior of the one in Olvera is simple and undecorated. I concluded that it might be because it was an example of early Renaissance architecture, perhaps around the early sixteenth century, predating the flashier, humongous Baroque churches of Counter-Reformation Spain. This would have made sense if I had been in Tuscany, but not in Andalusia. In fact the big church that dominates Olvera's skyline was begun in the 1780s and completed half a century later. It's an expression of the Spanish Enlightenment not militant Catholicism. Sometimes getting things wrong can be positive. I ended up reading an interesting Wikipedia piece about the Jesuits and their role in fighting the enslavement of native people in South America.
Camping Pueblo Blanco is a delightful spot. It's our third visit here. Ever time we've had spectacular sunsets and night skies like a planetarium.
Next day we headed for a Camperstop situated between Sanlucar de Barrameda and Chipiona. It's a couple of hours drive and having made the detour south to Olvera it meant we avoided the busy urban motorways around Seville. Camper Park Sanlucar is a bit rough and ready, but it's inexpensive and the people who run it are welcoming. Even better, it's equidistant between Sanlucar and Chipiona and there are safe cycleways and minor roads to both towns. They're both lovely places but in truth it's the tapas that draws us there.
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