Freedom’s End – Road Trip Part 3

Position: 40° 21′ 30″N 0° 24′ 27″E

MORELLA

By the time we arrived in Morella Thursday, March 12, Covid-19 had caught up with us. The Spanish government had just ordered a lockdown, due to take full effect at the weekend. After lunch, we wandered through town and peeked into the Iglesia de Santa María. Eventually, we stopped by the tourist office for directions. Spanish tourist offices are unfailingly helpful, and the staff speak excellent English.

Our young guide pointed us towards our AirBnB accommodation just down the street. ‘The situation is changing quickly’, she said. Then she told us that sadly the next day’s annual truffle demonstration cooking event was cancelled. She didn’t even know if the tourist office would open. It didn’t. However, she knew the museum would be closed, but thought the castle might open as usual. Both were shut.

Perched on the pointiest hill in the area, Morella’s ancient castle looks like a ziggurat. In another reminder of Rome’s real estate planning skills, the town was built within an aqueduct’s reach of fresh water. Unlike Albarracín with its exposed northern flank, Morella’s is a full 360-degree knoll. That makes for great views, good defense, and the downside possibility of being surrounded and starved into submission.

Purgatory

Overnight everything went quiet. Walking through town was lonely. Yesterday’s busy school stood empty. Usually packed tourist buses never turned up. Our footsteps echoed around the barren cobblestone streets. After failing to breach the castle, we instead circumnavigated it; taking time to admire the Reconquista on Caliphate architecture that might have been the Tower of Babel in another life. But rather than hang around too long, we hopped back in the car and headed towards the coast. Down to our last stop on the ‘30 Most Beautiful Villages’ list, the improbably named Peñiscola.

At some point Google Maps got creative and led us off the main road. It was one of those times that technical serendipity pays off. For the next 30 minutes the winding track took us across a remote swathe of riverbeds and olive trees that would be inaccessible in a heavy rainfall. Then, once we had chased the hills away, we found ourselves back in modern tourist hell. Okay, it was the off season, so let’s call it tourist purgatory.

Photos by Wade: Wade Owens Photography

Peñiscola

Endless tacky bleached white stucco two-up buildings lined the roads leading into Peñiscola. Most of the eyesores were built during an investment boom 15 years ago. Bar after bar portended summer hordes of drunken twenty-somethings and sunburned, middle-aged barflies. Thankfully, except for a few locals, no one was around.

At the far end of all the reprehensible modernity is an early 14^th century castle. In 1960 Hollywood showed up and restored the castle for the historical epic, El Cid. Charlton Heston leading the charge helped secure an Oscar for Best Original Song. Wandering through town we eventually found a restaurant that served decent paella. Over lunch, we booked the last two rooms at the boutique hotel Dios Está Bien, located deep inside the old town walls. Fully five stars for 50 euros a night per couple with breakfast. Incredible luck. And it didn’t disappoint. A small, winding staircase led up to thoroughly modern rooms, with en-suite showers.

More Gin!

Our hosts Xavier and Miia are Swiss and Finnish, respectively. At check-in we learned that all the hotels in the country were closing the next day by order of the government. The Guardia Civil hovered just outside the castle walls ready to ensure compliance. With even more uncertainty, we decided to head to the bar. Where else is there to go in a crisis? Home? Okay, there’s home. But where else? An air raid shelter? Not during a pandemic! Besides, this isn’t 1953! No. Without hesitation or deviation, it was off to a bar and gins with tonic.

We sat upstairs in Lola’s and ordered everything on the menu. It wasn’t long before we were joined by an American from Monmouth, Oregon, and his partner, an Austrian psychiatrist. We traded ‘how did you meet?’ and ‘you’re from where?!’ stories and shared our platters of cheese and sausage. An hour later we were still skirting the ‘end of the world’ topic when Tony from England burst in. All leathers and expat suntan he rubbed elbows, introduced us to his better half, and sat down. It was then our impromptu celebration of our last night of freedom kicked into high gear. Barman! More gin! More wine! Tell us your tales! The plague is upon us! We are pilgrims and bacchanalians all! Dammit, Jim! It’s a life! But not as we knew it!

None of us had any idea what to expect in the morning. Rumours of random roadblocks were rife. (Rrrr! – ed.) As he left, Tony leveled his steely gaze at us and said in a genuinely serious tone, ‘If you need a place to stay, here’s my number. Just give us a call.’ Michaela sweetly invited us to sit out the pandemic in her chalet in the Austrian Alps. The grace of human kindness swept over our anxieties. We breathed a little easier as we gave thanks and said our goodnights.

Roadblocks and Escape

Early the next morning, Xavier fed us a delicious breakfast. As we left, he handed us a huge bag of oranges. ‘The hotel is closing; we’ll never eat them all. A friend with an orange grove gave them to us. Please, take them.’ Poignantly, he handed the oranges over as we wished him and Miia luck and a speedy return to business. Then he said, ‘If you get stuck, come back here. I’m sure we can figure something out.’

The highways were almost empty, even near the big cities. As for roadblocks, all we saw was a couple of motorcycle cops at a gas station on the border between Alicante and Murcia. Soon after that, we were back on Aleta. Lauren and Wade had some serious planning to do, no thanks to the US State Department. The rest, as they say, is history.

Photos by Wade: Wade Owens Photography

---