Castles of Spain
Have Bag, Will Travel
- 1,079,610 hits
Search my Site
The old fortress town of Consuegra in Central Spain is famous for its windmills which remained in use until the beginning of the 1980s. These were the very windmills that Cervantes allegedly had in mind when he wrote Don Quixote and it is easy to see why because they sit in a ragged line along the top of a steep hill and they look down on the flat red dirt plains of La Mancha.
It was going to be a long day so we rose early ready for a quick start and as usual my first job was to check the weather. The air felt fresher and from the hotel window I could see cloud to the east, which was a bit of a worry, but the lady on Spanish breakfast television seemed confident that it was going to be fine and out to the west it was clear blue and that was the direction in which we were heading. After breakfast and check out we packed the car and started on the one hundred and fifty kilometre drive to Toledo.
We drove first to the town of Alcázar de San Juan but this wasn’t because of any sort of research just an instinct that it would be interesting based on what seemed to be a promising name. I should have carried out some research because it didn’t seem very appealing at all, there wasn’t a castle to be seen and the clouds had caught up and overtaken us and there was a bleached out sort of chalky whiteness to the sky so we rather rudely carried on without stopping. Somewhere just west of the town we crossed the old A4 highway and that reminded me of the mad drive through Spain with my brother and two friends in 1984 when we drove from southern Portugal to the French border in thirty-six hours in a ten year old clapped out Ford Escort.
Back in the hotel there had been pictures of a castle and a row of windmills at the next town of Consuegra so as it came into view we left the main road and headed towards the top of the hill where they stood like a string of sentinels overlooking the town. From below, the castle looked magnificent but on close inspection it too was in a bit of a sorry state of disrepair but from here there were terrific views over the great plain of Castile and it was easy to see why this was once a very important military place as it guarded the direct route from the south to Toledo and Madrid. The castle was once a stronghold of the Knights of San Juan, the Spanish branch of the Knight’s Hospitallers of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem.
As well as the castle Consuegra is famous for its windmills which remained in use until the beginning of the 1980s. These were the very windmills that Cervantes allegedly had in mind when he wrote Don Quixote and it is easy to see why because they sit in a ragged line along the top of a steep hill and they look down on the flat red dirt plains of La Mancha. I say allegedly here because although Consuegra clings to the Don Quixote connection because it is good for tourism, scholars now agree that the site Cervantes was describing was at the small town of Campo de Criptana which is east and South of Consuegra.
With their sails tied down and no longer spun by the wind they are almost smug in what is now their supremely safe tourist protected environment – one is a visitor information centre, one is a museum and one is a souvenir shop. They were originally built by the Knights and were used to grind the grain that was grown on the plain and they were passed down through the generations of millers from fathers to sons. The eleven Consuegra windmills are some of the best examples of Spanish windmills in Castilla-La Mancha and although it was a little cool at the top of the hill it was a good time to see them because there were very few visitors this early in the morning.
In fact the weather was getting progressively cooler and showing no signs of improvement and as we walked over the uneven rocky ground between the black sails and admired the bulk of the castle nearby we drew strange glances from bus tourists who were wrapped up in coats and scarves and gloves that were much more appropriate than our linens and short sleeves.
After leaving Consuegra we rejoined the road and headed north to Toledo and on the way the clouds evaporated and the sun poured through and we passed more castles at Mora and at Almonacid but we didn’t stop again. The scenery began to change too as it became more untidy and scrubby as we left the chequerboard fields and their delightful colours behind. Just before midday we reached the outskirts of Toledo and at the top of the city we could see the Alcázar and the Cathedral and we followed the signs to the historical centre and found a very large and convenient car park right on the edge of the city and in my league table of Spanish city car parks Toledo went straight to the top. At the bottom by the way remains Seville!
After the break we walked through the languid square where little groups of men in flat caps and berets were congregating and debating the big issues of the day and women were shopping in the small stores around the perimeter. They don’t get many English tourists here, especially in November, so I think one or two of them were surprised to see us as they went about their daily routine.
We needed something to do for the afternoon so after consulting the guide book and the information available at the hotel reception we decided to drive to the Roman ruins at Segóbriga about fifty kilometres away.
It was another excellent morning and behind the dark shutters the early morning sun was waiting to pounce as soon as they were opened. The sky was clear and it was blissful, serene and tranquil with absolute silence but for the merry chirruping of the house martins nesting in the garden and already well into their days work.
From Belmonte to Cuenca was a distance of about ninety kilometres and after half way the landscape began to change and we left behind the patchwork of fields and farmland and as we started to climb through hills it became more dramatic with steep sided hills and pine forests and busy rivers dashing madly through narrow gorges. The previously straight road ran into concertina like bends and driving required greater attention to the road. Eventually it stopped climbing and the landscape flattened and we made our final approach into Cuenca.
According to the Spanish, that year (2009) Spain had had a longer and colder winter than usual, a fact that had been confirmed by the assessment of the man from the car hire firm and the weather over the previous two weeks had been changeable so it was with some nervousness that I opened the bedroom shutters to see what the day had in store. I needn’t have worried because the sky was a perfect blue, the birds were singing and the honey coloured stone of the church opposite was radiating deliciously warm mellow tones into the courtyard below and from this elevated position in the town I could see that the blue extended seductively in all directions. I instinctively knew that it was going to be a good day.
After a couple of hours we reluctantly left the attractive little town of Chinchón with its beautiful square basking in the afternoon sun and after threading our way through the narrow streets twice, by some miraculous stroke of good fortune, found ourselves on the right road and heading south to the town of Belmonte in the province of Cuenca where we were due to stay for three nights.