Guadalest in February

On Thursday we are in the car by just after 8 a.m., early by Spanish standards and it’s an easy drive to our destination, except when we take a wrong turn on the outskirts of Benidorm, perhaps miss a no entry sign and are terrorized by a subsequent line of traffic cameras. Oh well, let’s hope it was a false alarm! 

We park in Guadalest just past ten o’clock. Parking costs 2 euros per day and is well organized. It’s a picture-postcard or should we say selfie-inspiring sort of place but on this splendid early February morning it is also totally deserted and superbly picturesque. Who could resist? We wander and take the ‘usual’ photos and one or two involving an obliging cat and some small almond trees in blossom, which are not so usual, and then invest in a ticket to visit the ‘castle’ – basically Casa Orduna and the highest part of Guadalest including the cemetery. 

We spend 6 euros - 4 for me and 2 for Andrea who is a pensionista. The house was built after an earthquake in 1644 that devastated the area and ruined the castle's outbuildings, and the  decorations and furnishings reflect the aesthetic tastes of the bourgeoisie of the second half of the 19th century: a large house in a small town, part of a rural environment, far from the capital's most up-to-date influences. On one side it rests on and is supported by the rock and on the other it occupies spaces above the chapels of the adjoining parish church. It’s worth a visit in itself, but of course the best part is to go up to the cemetery and then the limited ruins of the castle – the views are superb.

Visiting the rest of Guadalest doesn’t take long so we retrieve our picnic from the car and eat at one of the two tables near the children’s playground just before the entrance to the castle. Relaxing, warmed by the sun and a splendid view. Before leaving Guadalest, we have a coffee at a bar near the car park.

At this point we decide to take the scenic route to Denia around the reservoir and through the hills. This is a stupid thing to do, we discover when we are well on our way. Google Maps had no business showing it as a route. We continue, foolishly, wrongly encouraged by a Dutch camper van coming in the opposite direction. The ‘lane’ skirts the reservoir and then heads up and up and up, reaches a pass, and then down. We are lucky that the only other car we meet is on a bend where there’s a little space. The lane is narrow, there are no guard rails, and no mobile signal to know where we are and how far it is to some real tarmac. 

By the time we make it to a real road, because we do, and without mishap, because, ok, I’m used to driving on mountain roads, the route does exist without landslides or collapsed bits or mud and I resisted a strong urge to panic, Andrea has a cramp in his hand from clutching his phone for useless Google Maps and my slight headache is a full blown migraine. We also curse our stupidity. We should know better! I think I’d said never again in a slightly similar situation south of Barcelona in 2018, and that wasn’t as bad!

A little shaken and aware we have used up our dose of luck for the next few days, we continue on a normal road to our apartment in Denia, where the décor and the air ‘perfumers’ finish me off totally and I retreat to bed with paracetamol.

One hour later, a banana and a drink and I’m on my feet, we are just ten minutes from the centre of Denia and since I can’t face the car we go out for a stroll and shopping before a simple supper and an early night.

Spain in January and February complete trip report