Back to Teruel

October 15, 2023

My romance doesn't need a castle rising in spain / Nor a dance to a constantly surprising refrain / Wide awake I can make my most fantastic dreams come true / My romance doesn't need a thing but you / My romance doesn't need a thing but you. Lorenz Hart / Richard Rodgers

When I was maybe 13 I supplemented my earnings as a paper boy by babysitting. My main gig was minding the kid across the street: the son of Beverly Putnam, an attractive, tall woman who wore a different classy outfit each week and would return sometime after midnight with a different guy. Innocent that I was, I didn’t really think anything about it at the time. Thinking back now, I’m not sure I didn’t have a bit of a crush on her.

With a morning paper route to get up early the next morning for, I would typically fall asleep on the couch not long after putting the kid to bed, listening to an LP. I don’t remember if I brought ones from my parents’ collection at home or if Ms. Putnam also had her own copy of Love Nest by the incomparable jazz a capella quartet, the Hi-Lo’s.

I loved that album. When I look back now at the list of tracks each song on it comes back in my mind, along with many of the lyrics. (Frank, if you ever come across this at a garage sale and pick it up for me I’d be in your debt).

So it’s no surprise that when My Romance comes on in the background when we sit down to that wonderful lunch in Albarracín yesterday, the lyrics start running through my head and I laugh with delight when I come to “My romance doesn’t need a castle rising in Spain”. And it’s true, too; it doesn’t, but the castle rising just outside the window from us doesn’t hurt the atmosphere.

So as long as we’re reminiscing and looking back at yesterday, let’s have a few last photos of the town from yesterday’s walkabout before lunch.

One of countless castles rising in Spain, this one in Albarracín.

Looking across the Guadalaviar from beneath the castle walls.

A view toward the hermitage we hiked past yesterday.

A view across the upper end of town. You can see our room from here, if you know where to look.

It’s here. If you come to Albarracín by bike and don’t mind getting up to it, La Casa del Tio Americano is a fine place - a good breakfast, warm hosts, and a dynamite view of a castle rising just outside your door. Romantic.

A view of the upper walls from the mirador beneath the cathedral.

Another view of those walls. I like this shot, showing the parade of walkers trekking up to the high point.

I’m glad I took this shot, to remind me. These are the lower half of the stairs dropping down from the cathedral that I carried my bike down in the rain last night.

One of various shots around the cathedral.

OK, let’s leave town. First thought let’s have one last breakfast here. And on the way there let’s stop and go back to the room for the camera to remember the morning fog, the first we’ve seen all month.

There’s a different look to the day this morning.

And then let’s stop long enough to laugh at ourselves when we’re told that the key to our room also unlocks the back gate, so I needn’t have carried the bike up and down through the house. Ha, ha.

One of the more romantically sited places we’ve stayed.

OK, now let’s go. We have a short, simple ride today, backtracking our ride here from three days ago. It’s mostly downhill save for a mile and a half climb away from the river. It starts though with a glorious ride down the gorge for the first ten miles admiring the red cliffs and the trees, considerably more yellow than when we biked in. There’s considerable traffic going both ways - weekenders heading home and day trippers arriving, we surmise - so I pay attention to the road and let Rachael preserve the memory for us with video and stills from her GoPro.

Video soundtrack: El Pato, by Abel Sanchez

Near the end of the descent we stop to shed a layer and then not long afterward the climb comes. Fortunately it’s not as steep as we’d imagined it going the other way, and it helps that we’ve picked up a shoulder.

And then, once on top it’s downhill virtually the rest of the way back to Teruel, a slight headwind chilling us almost enough to stop and put a layer back on. We’re back in the broad campos again amd there’s really nothing new to photograph so I don’t stop except for one scenic spot I like. And then just a few hundred yards down the road I shout “I’m stopping, I’m stopping, I’m stopping” so Rachael won’t rear-end me when I abruptly pull off to stare up in wonder at about twenty Griffon vultures gyrating above.

We’re back in Teruel at 1:30 happy to be returning to the Mudayyan Hotel, remembering that it has convenient indoor storage for the bikes and an excellent breakfast. We’ll be here for three days, giving us time for hiking, biking, sightseeing and eating. Which begins immediately as soon as we’ve changed our clothes when we head over to Restaurante Asador Medieval, the same place we ate three days back. We have excellent meals, ordering a la carte because the Menu del Dia doesn’t appeal to us so much.

And we don’t order dessert, because we want to save room for the outstanding pistachio ice cream Rachael’s been raving about ever since our first stay.

Our romance doesn’t need a pistachio cone dripping in the sun either, but that’s nice too.

Rachael wanted me to shoot her posing above because she was remembering this shot with Suzanne back in Padua last spring.

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Ride stats today: 24 miles, 600’; for the tour: 1,141 miles, 41,400’

Today's ride: 24 miles (39 km)
Total: 1,131 miles (1,820 km)

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Patrick O'HaraYour first paragraph! Intriguing, honest, funny and perhaps the beginning of a great short story. I literally laughed out loud.
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6 months ago

Scott AndersonTo Patrick O'HaraThanks, Patrick. Memory is so remarkable. That’s over sixty years go!
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6 months ago

Gregory GarceauYour babysitting story reminded me that I also had a babysitting gig when I was in my early teens. The two hellions in my charge were the son and daughter of my parents' best friends. They never listened to a word I said, never obeyed my commands, and ran roughshod over my easy-going manner. I certainly never got free time to listen to "Love Nest" or any other album. Somehow, those wild kids figured out how to look like innocent, sleeping angels minutes before their parents came home. Looking back, I can't believe I agreed to babysit for them more than once. I guess the wage of something like $1.00 per hour was pretty attractive back then.
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6 months ago

Bruce LellmanYes, great story. But the photos recently have been unbelievably beautiful. I've really been enjoying the countryside and all the stone buildings. I mean, you have showed lots of that in the past but lately they seem to be extra beautiful.
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6 months ago

Scott AndersonTo Bruce LellmanThanks, Bruce. I’m so glad we made it down to this region. It’s been a real revelation.
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6 months ago