The City of Murcia

Our campsite is in the region of Murcia, one of the 17 self-governing regions of Spain. Most regions have several provinces but Murcia has just one so the city of Murcia is both the provincial and regional capital.

This is our first visit to the city in the 12 years we have been coming to the area. It takes us about an hour on motorway roads that conveniently run close to the centre. We park in an underground car park and come out, by chance, right in front of the town hall. It’s always pot luck where you pop up from an underground car park. We find ourselves in a very pretty plaza.

Heading for Tourist Info and the invariable free map, we pass an elegant square with statue. Pigeon on statue’s head.

The Tourist Info assistant hands over the free map and scribbles thereon some tapas bars. As we turn to leave we observe that a Jehovah’s Witness has infiltrated the tourists and is dishing out his own publications to visitors who think they are getting information leaflets. But we have sussed him out and decline more politely than he deserves.

Exit Tourist Info into the Plaza Cardinal Beluga and look directly across to the magnificent cathedral façade and the campanile (bell tower).

But coffee and cake must come first, so we enter a cafe in the square. However, the café is either severely undermanned or severely inefficient; ordering three times and waiting hopefully each time, we eventually get a cake, but no coffee. After half an hour we pay for the cake and I ask, where was the coffee? Full of “Lo siento mucho señor” apologies, but no explanation. It’s odd that you can feel sorry for people and annoyed at the same time. In two minutes we’re in the cathedral.

Begun in 1385, the building was finished in 1467, but added to and amended since so is a mixture of styles like many great churches. The photo above shows a part of the original building and below later baroque architecture.

As in most cathedrals and churches, there are side chapels financed by patrons for the protection of their immortal souls. Generally, the more important the cathedral, the grander the chapels. The example next shows wonderfully intricate stone carving with an austere overall impression.

This one is fancy gold, marble and cherubs with the same guarantee of the sponsors’ souls’ passage to the afterlife.

A service is being held in the cathedral so out of consideration we aren’t too snap-happy and are now back in the square. A disastrous flood in 1733 weakened the original cathedral façade and the old bishop’s palace, so both were replaced in the following decades in the same baroque style. The palace is a handsome building located opposite our cake-only café.

The palace is built around an elegant courtyard. Many people had a hand in its design and building, including the Italian, Canestro, foreman of the Royal Palace building works in Madrid. The palace interior wasn’t open.

Heading up through the narrow streets towards the Plaza Santo Domingo, we noticed few tourists. There were locals aplenty, generally well dressed. And we were the only pedestrians in shorts. I just needed a knotted hanky to complete the “Brits in Benidorm” image.

In the plaza is the church of Santo Domingo, in front of which is a bronze monument in support of human rights. Many countries have their own particular human rights issues and for Spain it is still the aftermath of the Civil War and Franco’s subsequent dictatorship. Many thousands of Spaniards disappeared and are lying by roadsides in unmarked graves.

 On a lighter note, we pass the Teatro Romea, the principal theatre that offers a varied top-class programme. It’s eye-catching style dates from 1862 but has been remodelled a few times following fires.

The source of the 1733 floods mentioned earlier, and in other years, is the river Segura. Unlike many Spanish rivers it seems to keep going all year round, and supplies essential water for the orchards and market gardens along its banks. It really is this milky green colour like pea soup.

Across the river from the old town are some pleasant gardens in which the stars of the show are the huge rubber trees, with amazing above-ground root systems, that dwarf our UK indoor specimens.

 Back across the river we note a few quirky features like these metal-topped palm trees. Not sure that it quite comes off but full marks for trying.

Our impression of Murcia was of an interesting if unspectacular city. There are many fine views just strolling through the old town, as in the next photo.

Clearly it’s not possible to make a final judgement after a few hours casual visiting and we would certainly return. It has some history dating back to Roman times but the city itself was founded by the Emir of Cordoba in 825 AD during the period of the Moorish rule. It was reconquered back into Christian rule in 1266. 

The Hill at the Back

Behind the campsite is a hill called the Cabeza del Horno: the Furnace Head. It’s not particularly high at 285 metres, but delivers a fine view from the top.

The way up is to follow a steep ridge on the right in the photo above. There is a track of sorts with waymarked paint splashes or stone cairns. We seem to need more rest stops than last year!

Less than half way up there’s a view of the whole campsite. It’s a bit misty this morning and the plastic tomato greenhouses look like lakes.

Last scramble before the top, with views inland towards some higher hills.

At the summit there’s an all round panorama including the coast of Mazarron bay.

 Easy to miss is a small shrine tucked away in the rocks, and unusually for Spain there are no candles to light for a blessing. Too windy probably, but even without the candles, it’s some reassurance for adventurers.

There’s also a disused communications mast on the top. It’s too much of a challenge for our mountaineering friends. Up they go. Second pic shows them at the top complaining that the mast was wobbling. Not surprising if you notice how slack the support wires are.

The dirt road from the back of the hill was built to construct the mast and then maintain it. It’s a much easier descent than the way we came up, although it’s deeply rutted as neither mast nor road is used.

When we first started coming here 12 years ago a chap used to play an alpine horn from the top, and then a Frenchman used to hoist a flag on the mast at Easter. We perhaps ought to have lit a bonfire as befits the name “Furnace Head”.

La Azohia Village

La Azohia is the fishing village we see from the caravan window, tucked under the headland in the photo. It forms one of the points of Mazarron bay.

It makes a particularly good view in the golden evening light as in this zoom shot.

We walk to La Azohia on a nearly new, purpose-built path, supposedly paid for by Euro money, following the coast all the way. It’s about 4 miles and easy walking with scenic views as shown by the next few photos. 

We walk through the village towards the tower on the far side, past many restaurants and low-rise holiday apartments. Tourism is now the main activity although fishing in the bay of Mazarron has been recorded from Roman times and is still active today. It still looks fairly unspoiled.

The tower of Santa Elena gives us a fine viewpoint over the whole bay. Built in the 16^th century as a lookout point for pirates, it also acted as a refuge  should the brigands land and attack. A chain of such towers was built along the coast demonstrating the real threat of piracy at that time.

The tower entrance is about 5 metres above ground level, accessed by a spiral metal staircase. This would have been a wooden or rope ladder able to be pulled up inside in past times. It seems the refugees in the tower also meant to fight back, looking at the cannon on the upper floor. Might be more effective if they aimed it through one of the windows.

From the top of the tower they had a great unrestricted view all round, ideal for defence purposes. We also had a great unrestricted view of a fishing boat hauling in its nets.

Coming down from the tower, we stepped smartly to the harbour to see the bumper catch being unloaded. We were sadly disappointed: no heaps of silver fish,  just one medium sized sunfish swimming, alive, in an on-board tank. A specimen for research perhaps as there is an oceanographic institute a few miles away? We didn’t ponder too long as a tapas lunch was proposed and seconded- and we weren’t planning on dining on fresh fish anyway.

The White Cliffs

The white cliffs are the highest point in the immediate area at 2,070 feet (631 metres). The photo is taken from the rambla near the campsite.

We’re going to the top, but not from this direction! Approaching from the other side, the slope is walkable but steep and stoney. We park in a layby on the road to Cartagena near an iron cross that indicates the beginning of the ascent. To start with, there is no discernable path but we manage to slowly pick our way through the sparse vegetation while looking down on the road where we left the cars.

Other walkers before us helpfully leave stone cairns as a guide to a useable route. Our leader seems not to trust this cairn, so we’re off up the gully behind into uncharted territory. This is the true spirit of exploration so must be worth a few extra thornbush scratches.

The Columbus approach pays off. We come upon an abandonned iron ore mine. The whole mountain, indeed the whole area, is full of them, mainly open cast with galleries driven deep into the hillside to extract the ore. The rich red colour comes from the ore.

It’s a vertical cut, so careful not to fall over the edge. Slowly onwards and upwards to the top where a fine panorama awaits. Towards the sea, in the direction of the city of Cartagena, the peaks disappear into the mist.

Looking the other way down the sheer cliff face reveals the rambla from where the first photo of the sheer white cliff was taken.

 Climbers do use the vertical rock face although there are none performing today. There is even a refuge for those caught out by bad weather on the top. The solid stone hut looks capable of coping with any storm.

Because of the elevation, the temperature is a 6 degrees C colder here than on the campsite where we started, and the wind’s got quite an edge. Odd times in winter it’s below freezing up here with occasional snow. It looks really cosy inside the hut - even a small solar panel on the roof feeding a mobile phone charger so you can be on Facebook while waiting for the rescue helicopter.

From the refuge we head back down, and presently look for some shelter from the wind to eat our packed lunch. We find a suitable place inside a large mine entrance but need to be careful of several vertical shafts near our chosen seating area. These aren’t the really deep shafts that would need winding gear; more probably they used rickety ladders. However it’s the same result if we were to fall down one. It’s impossible to imagine the hard life of the miners. 

We emerge from the mine entrance, past the spoil heaps, and now follow a narrow, purpose-made path laid down when the mines were functioning. Certainly used by miners, and perhaps by mules transporting the ore to the road. There is no evidence of a cableway or dram system to move the ore.

The path eventually arrives at the road where we left the cars. Although in partial disrepair, the path gets us down more easily than the ascent. A chilly but informative walk: no pain, no gain, as they say.

The Custom House

We are heading for a disused building at the end of a 3 mile dirt road known as the Custom House. I have been unable to discover much of its history other than that it was a Guardia Civil barracks. This police organisation was, and still is, responsible for customs, anti-smuggling and counter drug operations.

The road itself is in reasonable condition apart from ruts cause by heavy rain that no longer merit repair as the Custom House is not used. Here are some of our group walking along the better part of the track.

At its highest point the road provides a good view over Cartagena bay and the Custom House itself on the edge of the sea. The road then meanders down and around the hills so has few really steep sections.

Close-up , the Custom House building is in good repair but securely boarded up. It gave the Guardia Civil officers a good view over the bay. It’s on a long distance footpath and in such a lovely position, it’s a shame it can’t be used as a walkers’ hostel – or even a retirement home for Guardia Civil 

Thus far is the easy part: we now strike across country on rough footpaths before reaching another unmetalled road that takes us back to our starting point. As an example, we need to descend to this pretty bay and up the other side. 

Here we go down into the gully, thankfully in part on concrete steps. Tough walkers like us don’t need handrails! 

It’s up and down from bay to bay all the way as we follow the coast. We’re all pretty warm by now. Here’s an up section. Two of the party have mountain climbing experience and are super-fit, but are kind enough to pace back with the rest of us. Good to know we’re taking our own rescue team with us!

The shore stretches give us good views of the blue, clear sea. Ships use the bay area to anchor in sheltered waters while waiting to enter Cartagena harbour, which is a deep water anchorage for freight and cruise ships as well as being the Mediterranean headquarters of the Spanish Navy.

After several miles we turn inland and start the big climb up to the return road. We are grateful for this rest stop half way up. Sweets all round. 

Last obstacle before the road is the Broken Rocks. We take the path around the top end as the other, middle path, is scrambly and slow.

At the dirt road there is a wide panorama; it’s an empty, barren landscape, but awesome at the same time. We passed the ruined walls of animal pens and cultivation terraces on the way but it’s impossible to image how farming here could sustain a living in past times with so little soil and an annual rainfall of only 8 inches, much of which would be in run-off deluges.

We finish at the cantina in the local village, with good coffee, cold beer and salmonella–rich tapas. We savour a part of real Spain (but not the tapas).

A Coast Walk at Bol Nuevo

Bol Nuevo is a coastal area about 10 miles from our campsite. There is a selection of dirt roads and trails running by the sea and also inland. We decide to start along the coast and loop back via the interior. There are some strange pillars carved by the wind in the soft sandstone. The example below shows Jane and Elaine walking past one. Vehicles occasionally use this road and risk ending up in the sea on a dark night or in bad weather.

A little farther on is a nudist beach. It’s a little chilly this morning so I can take photos of this lovely bay without being labelled a Peeping Tom.

The halfway point is a small decayed harbour where we stop for our packed lunch. This was used from the 18^th century onwards to carry stone quarried locally to construct fine buildings in the city of Cartagena. The remaining scattered blocks of the jetty wall are visible in the foreground.

Now we head inland and gain height. The sea is never far away and we get some pretty panoramas. Always visible somewhere in a long-distance shot in this area is the white plastic of the tomato greenhouses. The workers, mainly Moroccan, are bussed in each day. Who eats all these tomatoes?

Nearly back now, as we descend towards this picturesque bay and headland with the red rocks. There was a proposal several years ago to create a Disney World 20 miles along this largely unspoiled coast. I’ll settle for the plastic tomato greenhouses every time!

We finish with a drink at the Oasis café. Another good walk completed.