Sat in the car, waiting for daylight, I kept the engine running to keep warm. I had got up early yesterday morning  to drive to Castells de Castells, with the intention of cycling from there , with time to stop at some of the villages. The temperature was a miserable 14 degrees, a lot colder than that at the coast.

Leaving Castells.

Once on the bike, the body started to warm up. Approaching little Famorca, the first light was coaxing the colour from the mountains, stirring me from my sleepiness.

Morning light, Famorca.

Some of the villages in this area are very small, where they would struggle to get numbers up for a whist-drive. The next village, Facheca, is a bit bigger. Then the fast descent, with the distraction of  the broad Seta valley on the left, towards Tollos.

Village house, Famorca.

There is a climb and then a fast descent into the one-street, idyllic village of Beniaia. The taverna, El Llogaret, had just opened at 9am and I was grateful  for a tostada and coffee. A lunch or dinner in the Arabic-style little restaurant  would be rather pleasant I think.

Restaurant at El Llogaret.

Passing through neglected orchards, some with apples, or perillones, a  cross between apple and pear , I skirted Margarida, diverted up to Catamarruc and back, then on to Planes where I turned left towards Gorga.

I wanted to stop at Balones and see the Saint Francis caves, the ruins of the Iberic settlement of Pitxocol and the Castillo de Seta. But time was running out, and a couple in Balones suggested I visit the Castillo de Costurera, a few kms. on.

An asphalt track leaves the main road, and as you climb , the castle quickly comes into view, looking down from it’s proud pinnacle. Somehow, I missed the track where I should have dismounted for the walk up to the castle. The track I stopped at was much further on .

Castle at Planes.

The running shoes I had brought for this purpose had not seen a pair of feet for about 15 years and soon, as I climbed the mountain, a blister formed on the back of my heel. To get over this mountain, I had to go some distance higher than where the castle was and take a steep descent. I should have turned back, but something- call it stubborness- stopped me from doing so.

I could now see the castle; I had to go down to go up, not realising till too late that there was something of a gorge at the bottom. Having negotiated this, I was soon able to scramble to the castle. What had seemed so impressive from afar, gave little satisfaction close-up.

Castillo de Costurera.

Now I had to get down to the track and get back to my bike for the rest of the cycle. I was hungry. Nature was on hand. There were wild figs and better still, wild blackberries growing alongside the track. They provided me with the sweetest moment of the day.

Cycling distance: about 80 kms (ciclometer not working).

Walking distance: a few kms.