From Valencia to the hills

The journey from Paris to Valencia was a very pleasant one, especially as I had treated myself to first class, meaning I could spend the two-hour wait in Barcelona in the first-class lounge rather than the relentless agitation of Barcelona Sants station. The second part of the journey was delayed slightly, and I arrived in Valencia half an hour late due to the intense renovation work of the tracks around the city. Fortunately, my hotel was just a five-minute walk from the station.

After a quick shower, I set out to explore the city, having downloaded two urban hikes from the AllTrails app. I really needed to get moving after almost 12 hours on the train. The first stop was a tasty dinner in one of the few Spanish restaurants in the area where I was staying, which was clearly Valencia’s Chinatown. And then I headed off for a 3 km walk through the city.

Starting from the station, the immediate impression was one of grandeur, with a number of huge and rather impressive buildings on the station square and the nearby town hall square

However, just north of there, I entered the narrow streets of the old town, which were absolutely heaving with people, including lots of tourists out to sample the local paella.

My steps led me to the cathedral, a huge building with bits that seemed to date from different periods. I think it was about 1 km walk around the outside of it. I planned to return the next day to see the interior.

Another thing that struck me about the city on this initial exploration was the huge amount of street art. Every store metal shutter was painted in a highly original manner, often with a reference to the goods sold inside. And otherwise, every spare bit of wall on certain streets was also used.

In the course of this nocturnal wandering, I also passed the central market, an absolutely huge complex in the middle of the city. I rarely see the tourist sites or museums in cities I visit, but I have a weakness for local markets, so this one was definitely on my list for the next day.

I slowly made my way back to the hotel, looking forward to a good night’s sleep. The hotel was in a particularly noisy neighbourhood and, as I like to sleep with a window open, I resorted to using the white noise app on my phone to help me sleep. But even with it on a full blast, I had a pretty fitful night because of the noise outside.

The next morning, I got to meet the very friendly owner of the hotel, who asked where I would be heading for my hike. When I mentioned that it began in a village called Arcos de las Salinas, he confessed that he’d never heard of the place. After finding it on his phone, he told me that I would see some amazing scenery, but that I wouldn’t meet many people as it’s a pretty deserted region of Spain, with a high-level of rural depopulation. And the following days proved him right!

After checking out of the hotel, I took my backpack to the bus station to put it in a left-luggage locker so that I didn’t have to lug it around the city with me on my second urban hike.

This one was longer than the previous evening’s hike and took in a fair number of the city’s sights, from the cathedral to the central market via the amazing building housing the ceramics museum and the beautiful Colon market. I was put off by by the huge queues to get into such places as the cathedral or the Silk Exchange so filed them away for a future visit.

There were no queues get into the central market however, and that was where I really fell for Valencia. Until this point, I had always rated the main market in Turin as being the most spectacular I have ever seen, but the one in Valencia beats it hands down. The building itself is absolutely huge and spectacular. Stepping through the doors led to instant sensory overload, with the sounds, colours and above all the smells that hit me. Unlike La Bocqueria in Barcelona, the place hasn’t surrendered to the tourist dollar and is a full of locals doing their daily shop. I really regretted that I was in Valencia at the start of my trip and not at the end because I could have taken so much home with me – ham, sausages, cheeses, the beautiful local tomatoes, amazing fish and seafood, fruit and vegetables, and even a bag of snails (although the other passengers on the train probably wouldn’t have approved). All I ended up buying was some locally produced chocolate that was guaranteed not to melt because of the raw sugar and rice flour in its ingredients, a speciality of Valencia since the 1800s. With a pack that would be close on 13 kg in weight once I’d added my water for the day, I didn’t want to burden myself too much.

I then headed back to the bus station, stopping off for a bite to eat in a bar with incredibly slow service. The bus trip would be two stages, first from Valencia to a village called Titaguas, then with a second bus from there to Arcos de las Salinas. The second bus ran only on request and I was hoping that my call from Barcelona station the previous day in my rather rudimentary Spanish had been understood by the lady who answered it!

The 3 o’clock bus left with almost Swiss precision at exactly 3 o’clock. The journey itself was rather boring at first, with stop in a number of towns making up the urban sprawl around Valencia. However, once it began to approach the mountains the scenery became much more spectacular.

And, on arriving in Titaguas, the second bus was waiting just across the street. There were only three of us taking it and, after about 10 km, I was the only passenger left on board for the last 20 km or so to Arcos de las Salinas, the final stop.

Just as I arrived, it began to rain, lightly at first but then more and more heavily as I crossed the silent village. I sheltered in a small hermitage to put on the pack cover and my rain jacket, then discovered that my hotel was just a few metres further on. The place was closed, but there was a number to call posted on the door. A few minutes later, the rather gruff owner turned up, telling me that his wife had said I’d be arriving an hour later. That was indeed what I had told her, but the bus had left Titaguas 20 minutes earlier than planned because there were only three of us taking it, and the journey had only taken 30 minutes rather than 60 scheduled on the timetable. The owner clearly spoke no English, but I managed to understand that I needed to go to the local bar-restaurant for dinner at around 8 PM and that I could have breakfast at eight the next morning.

I spent the next hour or so relaxing in my room, which had a fine view of the village, before going to the bar.

On my way there, I took a walk around the village, which was more or less deserted. There was a bakery, but it only opened three days a week, and not on Thursdays, which meant no bread for the next day’s hike. The church had a pretty spectacular door, but that was the only remarkable thing about the place.

The streets were totally deserted, and I didn’t see anyone until I approached the bar. And, on stepping inside, I had the impression of traveling back 40 years in time or of entering a scene from the film As Bestas. Six or seven men of various ages were sitting around watching a soccer match on the huge TV, while a little old man in a corner, clearly the hotel owner’s father, was weaving ropes from some sort of grass. The owner sat me down and served me a beer, then told me the menu which involved a number of choices. I seized on a few words that I understood, asparagus, and lamb, and a few minutes later, I was served a plate of fresh asparagus with some Manchego. This was followed by a huge plate of tasty roast lamb and potatoes. A panna cotta with local honey rounded off the meal. When I went to pay, I was stunned to discover that the whole meal, beer included, cost only €13.

After that, I headed back to the hotel for an excellent night’s sleep, just what if I needed to set me up for the first day of hiking, and this time in total silence after the noise of Valencia the night before.