27: 26th December 2021. Granada to Alcala La Real. 34.1 miles cycled, 2,493 ft altitude climbed, 3.53 cycling time.
We expected today to be very wet (from the weather predicted) but although cloudy it was in fact dry. I woke with the start of a cold and not feeling very bright. We managed to get on our way by 11.00 for what we thought would be a relatively straightforward and easy ride, and for the first 16 miles that was indeed the case with a fast slightly downhill ride out of Granada. We were on the main road, again riding on the hard shoulder (and avoiding the steep gutter drop) as we normally do, and glad that it was a Sunday and a bank holiday without a lot of traffic on the road. After completing the first half of our journey in good time we stopped for a coffee on the edge of a town called Olivares, and it was there that we noticed that Komoot (our route planning app) was showing the next climb as being a “red” climb – which basically means “don’t do it” and “go and found another route”. However on this occasion there really did not seem to be any real alternative for us as the other roads either went back on ourselves or added a considerable distance to the route. With hindsight both options might have been preferable, although it does always amuse me how Debbie can be so unhappy with our situation during the ride, but afterwards will list it as one of her “highlights of the day”!
The ride did turn into over two miles of us “walking” our bikes over a 3,000 foot mountain pass – although we did start at about 1,000 ft so the actual climb was less, but still extremely demanding. In places we couldn’t even push our bikes up and had to “double hand”, leaving one bike and sort of leapfrogging up the mountain pushing one bike ahead of the other then going back to pick up the other. The trip was not helped by some locals walking down who told us we had a bit coming up that (from their hand actions) was vertical and we wouldn’t be able to do it.
Eventually we did manage to get to the top and we reached the village of Moclin, which really is a village (with houses with washing on the line and things) at over 3,000 feet on the top of a mountain. It appears to be a centre for walkers and rock climbers (we saw a couple of them coming back from a walk anyway).
On top of the hill was an old castle or fort, and when I did some research I found there had been a very bloody battle here in 1,280 (The Battle of Moclin, also known as the Disaster of Moclin when some 2,800 soldiers were massacred. The battle was between the troops of the Emirate of Granada, commanded by Muhammad II, the Sultan of Granada, against those of the Kingdom of Castile and the Kingdom of Leon, who were composed mainly of mercenaries and of members of the Order of Santiago, being commanded by Sancho, the son of King Alfonso X of Spain. As I understand it Sancho had stayed in Alcala La Rael while his troops had been out on an expeditionary force when they were attacked by the Muslim forces who had been waiting in ambush. Feigning flight the Muslim troops stationed in Moclin drew the Castilian-Leonese troops to their ambush spot (which from the top of the hill looked to me to be a very good one), and then cut off their line of retreat, and basically butchered the Christian forces. It resulted in the deaths of most of the knights in the Order of Santiago.
From this point the ride was a beautiful fast downhill ride, and we rolled into Alcala La Real in the afternoon. It looked a lovely town but I was under the weather and we were quite tired, and I was feeling a little sorry for myself still, so we rested in the room of our boutique hotel – good value and comfortable. In the evening we walked over to a bar where we had been told by the hotel receptionist that we could get food (strangely in these Spanish rural towns there really don’t seem to be many restaurants or cafes open; it may be they do all open later, after 9.00pm seems typical, but even at that time there don’t seem to be many open, and combine that with the fact that no one understands us and we can’t understand them, the problem of food becomes quite challenging but it is very different in the main cities and tourist areas fortunately. We sat at the bar with a barman who tried hard to help us but although I ended up with the dish of the day (I think – at least it was his recommendation), about half a kilo of very tender and tasty pork filet, Debbie ended up with a plate of very uninspiring fried aubergines and was very grumpy: “The best thing in here is the beer”.
I managed to watch some football – Chelsea scraping a 3-1 win against Aston Villa, the test match was dire with England about 175-all out on the first day of the Melbourne test match, and I finished “Rebecca” that I had been reading whilst cycling (well listening to) and which I really enjoyed. James Bond tomorrow!
Cycle Touring Adventures! 