Wednesday, 12 February 2025
It really doesn’t look like it, but this is a night shot, from a few minutes ago. My guess is that the unbroken drippy cloudcover is reflecting the light back and back again, so the sky isn’t dark? Goodnight, squirrels.
Monday, 3 February 2025
This is maybe the third time we’ve seen a stand of these silver-barked trees. Dunno what they are…mystery arboles.
I’ve confirmed that this is Moncayo.
Wind turbine alignments. I’m trying to get my photographic fascination with them out of my system. Round hay bales can grab your eye this way, too.
We’ve seen plenty of large and small irrigation ditches, but rarely the valves. Here’s a split, where the flow is being directed two ways.
One of our goals today was to get a look at a large eroded area, or badlands, that is a park called Bardenas Reales.
We did find one place with a road we could safely try to get into (or towards) the heart of this sculpted landscape. You can see we didn’t get far, as farmed fields remain.
We partly circled Moncayo yesterday, and completed the loop today.
One more eroded landform.
I finally got a shot of the Ebro when we crossed it. I think this is normal spring elevated levels.
We cut through a “corner” of the lower slopes of the Moncayo massif, and found what must be a relatively warmer area, as many orchards flaunted blooming trees. My guess was peaches or apples, but I couldn’t parse the tree shapes and figure out the species.
We went through/by many little towns. Amazingly, most had parked cars and evidence of active residents. I cannot figure out the economic support for these scattered villages.
Later in the day, I became fascinated with the variations in soil color…this is rather brick red, and the trees are not yet blooming (February, remember…snow on elevations, remember?).
Castle ruins above larger small town…note the white lenses in the far distance behind the jagged walls…Moncayo massif, again.
I counted one man and one dog with this substantial sheep herd. As we continued up the road, it was evident that they’d come down it for at least a mile. Transhumance underway? Earlier in the day, we saw a smaller herd, controlled by a man with a loaded mule and four dogs. Spring is springing for shepherds.
This is the second fox we’ve spotted. Neither was much concerned with our presence.
I just encountered a description of wheeling clouds of birds as resembling the billowing robes of a genie. As shown….
Sunday, 2 February 2025
Wind turbines on horizon. Strange color balance (through windshield).
Frost patterns…one shady place we saw frost as late as 11:30am.
Flags, bell tower.
Storks, backlit.
Horses, also backlit, with frost, tracks.
Medieval rock graves, Revenga.
Medieval rock graves, Regumiel. They antedate the 12th C church built partially atop them.
Medieval rock graves with ice skim, Duruelo. Some sources say this trend in this area, the Upper Arlanza Basin, say these graves are 7th/8th C. Others say 8th–10th C.
Stand-alone snow-capped mountain, perhaps Moncayo.
Wind turbine array, with Pyrennees in far distance and Ebro basin between.
Rioja territory grapevines.
This is the part of the Roman city of Graccurris, founded 179 BC, that has been “reconstructed.” I could make little architectural sense of what seemed to me to be mostly a wasteland. Of course, there was significant Medieval occupation here, too….
Largest church in Alfaro, essentially modern Graccurris.
Smaller Alfaro church.
Fuzzy moon out our hotel window, a few minutes ago.
Saturday, 1 February 2025
We left Bilbao in a light rain and went west, in and out of raininess.
We saw the ocean—quick peeks—at least a half-dozen times.
When we cut inland, we encountered clouds above and with us.
In Europe, we’ve found far more frequent tunnels than in the USofA. A tunnel we went through before we reached Bilbao was almost 3 km (1.82 mi)—I forgot to look it up until now.
The elevations eventually had snow…from a storm that came through about three days back. Luck is with us.
We took a wee side trip to see the source of the Ebro River, where there’s a lovely little park…and the river’s first dam.
This is a monument to the river. With a mallard.
Just a few miles from the source are the upper reaches of a major reservoir on the river.
Then, the topography became more rugged, and we drove a bit in dramatic gorges.
Even the side drainages are dramatic.
Oops, look what we climbed into.
Fortunately, the road was clear and the temps waaaay too high for there to be ice.
This is the only town we went through where the buildings had exposed beams. I suspect many of the buildings have beams—they’re just clad in mortar or whatever.
Finally, we descended and the landscape opened up, and the fields are greeeeeen!
Hotel window view….
Friday, 31 January 2025
Different day, different museum: Museo de Bellas Artes de Bilbao, established 1908. This is the “Old Building;” behind it, the new is being reworked—note crane. The collection focuses on Basque and Spanish works.
This is Ramiro Arrue’s (1892-1971) “Euskaldunak karta jokoan,” meaning Basques playing cards.
He did it about 1919. I was fascinated by the footwear, especially the boots on the left with exterior laces.
Aurelio Artete did this in 1930–35, and called it “Euskal arrantzaleak,” or Basque fishermen. Again: footwear…. I’m wondering if the short boots are of rubber? They do look globular. Also: bare feet.
We saw one Picasso on display: “Still life with glass/bowl of fruit,” dating to 1937 (don’t know the original language of the name). In English, it’s “still life,” but in Spanish it’s “naturaleza muerta,” or, literally, dead nature.
They had three Goyas on display, including the side of the shipping crate they came in from France…I didn’t get the full story. This was the middle painting of the three (yes, I cropped it), the esteemed Bernard Tavira, dated about 1787-88.
Here’s a detail of the Señora’s carnation and ruff.
A few smaller rooms displayed fascinating historical documents and the like that normally no members of the public get to see. These are a pair of pages from “Corpus Iuris Civillis;” it dates to before 1477, and is in Gothic script. This is a later copy of a compilation of Roman laws from AD 117–565; the compilation was ordered by Emperor Justinian I, who was emperor from AD 527 to 565. This copy was made for Pierre de Laval, who became archbishop of Reims in 1473, and died in 1493. Many modern legal systems relate back to these laws.
Here’s a small section of the official document of excommunication of Henry VIII of England by Pope Clement VII and the Holy Council of Cardinals. This is an authorized copy sent to the Spanish court, and dates to 1531.
And then we were outside enjoying the sun…we found groundskeepers at work—here the fountain cleaners.
Here’s Bilbao’s river, the Nerbioi (Basque), or Nervion (English). This view is toward the mouth. This area was once the port area. With larger ships, it’s moved to the bay at the mouth. Note also that Bilbao, the city, is along the river, and the higher elevations are forested.
The façade of this building stood out to us both. It appears to be a private business…. BTW, that’s a pedestrian bridge to the left.
And, our riverfront trajectory brought us back to…this sculpture/building by Frank Gehry (born Frank Owen Goldberg, in 1929).
I very much enjoyed seeing Anish Kapoor’s “Tall Tree & The Eye” (2009) without raindrops.
Here’s this combo moto and lift that I posted yesterday from the other side.
Guggenheim detail. I think this is employee parking on the “back” side.
And, for giggles, a totally different façade, in town, away from the former port area.
Tuesday, 28 January 2025
Our room last night had a pair of those arched windows on the third story (second above ground floor) that have gold framing. I learned that if you live in a place with narrow streets and multi-story buildings, like this neighborhood, you may not see much sunshine.
Ah, there is sunshine after last night’s rain.
Is MaNachur offering some kind of irony in lighting up the wind turbines?
I wanted to see this church-castle-tower combo for the massive high walls on the tower. I did not expect to have the quirky bonus of arriving when the grounds crew was taking a break, leaving their equipment to mark the spots where they should resume, and highlighting that the priests rely on so much outside labor to strut their stuff.
This is the Castle of Xavier (Basque: Xabierko gaztelua), and the name Xavier/Javier is derived from the Basque Etxeberri meaning new house. [However difficult we thought Catalan was to grasp, I find Basque words impossible.] The Basque Jesuit cleric and famous proselytizer Francis Xavier (1506–1552; canonized 1622) was from here, taking the name of his hometown as his priestly cognomen (or whatever they’re called). Xavier is now used by many institutions, including Xavier University in Cincinnati, Ohio, to honor the man.
Changing gears, the is the entry area for the Villa Romana de Liédena, which was occupied from the 1st through 4th Cs AD, with its greatest size and decorative opulence at the end, including various mosaic floors. This was a villa, so an agricultural complex and a fancy dwelling complex merged together.
A visitor, it seems to me, would pass through the agricultural entry area and into this impressive patio that featured an open-water pool (the narrow-double-stones outline it) that drained toward the lower left of the photo and away from the house.
This large room was perhaps the core of the elite dwelling.
The villa’s location was chosen with this fabulous view of the Foz de Lumbier, or Lumbier Canyon, with the Río Irati in between, as well as the fields this villa controlled.
Next, we followed the Río Urrobi upstream a long ways. We had some precip, but thankfully it was too warm for the snowflake warning signs at the higher elevations to reflect our current situation.
Despite many signs cautioning us about open range animals, this is one of the first we’ve seen, only a trifle worried that we’ve stopped moving.
This is the typical domestic architecture in these parts…very different.
Sometimes, the homes are slightly fancier.
Our guesthouse is to the right, with the green shutters.
Next door is a church, with a portico over the entrance (seems unusual). Goodnight.
Monday, 27 January 2025
Go to the trouble of getting plain yogurt, yet perhaps you want sugar with it?
Puffy cloud layers above.
Let’s walk up this scenic valley. What’s that curve in the rock wall?
What a giant, gorgeous cave! Archaeologists have found early Upper Paleolithic remains that show repeated short-term visits (not creating deep deposits), including hearths spaced at about 3m apart. These visits are interpreted as related to the seasonal migration of prey species like deer and horses.
However, current usage leans heavily toward the rock-climbing crowd. I count at least 20 safety helper carabiner lanyards, or whatever they are, on the small section of the roof, ready for the next upside-down adventurer.
Back on the road, we see signs of clearing.
Clouds below, nice.
No rain or mist, so we climbed a hill to see this now-scruffy Roman town now called Labitolosa. It had two bath complexes, and a curia and forum, so it was at least locally important in the 1st C BC (so pretty early); it supplanted an indigenous community.
Details of the big bath complex.
Descending, we could see how still the water of this reservoir was.
Our route away from that area took us through this stunning gorge.
Soon, we were out on what I’m calling the windy flats, here with a bonus tire sculpture.
Scattered towns seem lightly active with farming.
Much further along, we checked out these Roman aqueduct piers (actually vertical—it took a wide shot to get them all in).
The Roman town the water supplied is today called Los Bañales. This area was the forum. The later building complex in the background is called Ermita de Nuestra Señora de Los Bañales. One record I found dated some of its architecture to the 1740s.
Here’s a section of road connecting housing above the civic-ceremonial zone that included the forum.
Here’s the view down from higher up. The aqueduct piers are visible. This is looking east.
From the top, the light made the landscape look rather different when we looked to the northwest.
This area is separate from the civic-ceremonial and had many elite domestic complexes. I saw two parallel wide streets; this was the upper one. This settlement was later than Labitolosa, dating to the 1st C AD, so after the Romans had dominated this area for several generations.
Our hotel is within the old Medieval core of Sádaba, although the façades of the two buildings opposite our room look later. Recent demographic data indicates the highest population of the town was in the 1960 census. It’s less than half that as of 2021.
We heard a story on TV the other day about housing problems in Spain. I think they meant in the large cities, however, as the rural areas we’ve been passing through show a significant percentage of apparently maintained and usable housing that is not inhabited.
Sunday, 26 January 2025
Today’s objective: cross the Pyrenees, and whatever else happened. Here’re some views through the windshield…. Driveway gate…
Railroad bridge for Le Petit Train Jaune.
Random flaking sign on building.
Road safety warnings. We did have a short period of precipitation in the dark hours, a spin-off from the Storm Éowyn system.
We didn’t know what this was driving by. Turns out its part of a 17th C fortification…to control access to the valley we’re headed toward.
Today’s roads don’t fit well into the spaces between buildings….
At the pass, we did see bits of snow on the ground, but just (thankfully) moisture on the road. Some cars that passed us, presumably from ski areas, wore 2 or so inches of new snow.
We were very pleased to descend into the Cerdanya valley, with its wide fields and pastures. And horses, many horses, all winter-shaggy. Most were heavy-bodied, the shape I associate with working horses. I thought I got a decent shot of grazing horses, but when I zoomed in, they were mules. Harrumph.
I was going to title this post something about border crossings. This was our first—out of France and into a small bit of Spain that’s entirely in France, called Llívia. It’s dominated by the castle hill, which we climbed up a ways, but only perhaps ⅓ of the way…which was plenty to get this good view of this part of the Cerdanya, and the church bell tower below us.
Then we crossed back into France, then back into Spain, and carried on until…I’m calling this Aduana Uno, that is, Customs One…for leaving Spain…
…and Aduana Dos, for entering Andorra. You want to read about a strange international situation, look up Andorra. The first thing we noticed was all the traffic exiting into Spain and backed up perhaps 2 km. Yikes. These motorists, we guessed, were headed home after weekending in Andorra, skiing perhaps.
We found Andorra gritty and traffic-filled, the main valley overstuffed with multi-story apartment buildings, and rather yucky. We ducked into a Carrefour and bought some lunch makin’s, then headed back to the traffic jam, and ate while nudging along. Summary: we went to Andorra for lunch.
Back in Spain, southbound took us out of the mountain rockiness eventually.
From afar, we both thought this looked like a mushroom spire. Turns out it was a stork nest providing the flare.
This rock face is just at the edge of the mountains.
And, if you face the opposite direction, you see the ruins of a Medieval bridge. The exposed “guts” offer insight into construction methods and engineering strategies.
The view from tonight’s room…sluggish river, and far more space riverside than we saw in Andorra….
Saturday, 25 January 2025
A beggar came by to watch the sunrise with me. Truth: it was more interested in begging than the view.
On the road, these snow-caps dominated our skyline to the northwest. We headed first into the mountains out of the photo to the right.
We drove most of the way to this ruin, walking the last hundred meters. This is the Église de Santa Helena de Rodes (sometimes Elena), and the ruins of the medieval town around the church, called Santa Cruz de Rodes. This is a satellite community about a half-kilometer from the Benedictine Monastery of Sant Pere de Rodes. The Monastery was famous for having small relics of THE Saint Peter, which justify the size of that complex, undoubtedly paid for by donations (eh-hem) from the many pilgrims who flocked to this out-of-the-way place.
Rodes is now Roses, on the bay to the south. The central part of the church and most of the bell-tower date to the 10th C (archival mention in 974), although there may have been an earlier use of this location. Several expansions widened the structure and added a portico to the entry.
I scrambled up the slope to get this shot. The bushes are woody and tough. Arguably, they make gorse seem wimpy.
The north gate, away from the monastery, is more elaborate. I’m guessing pilgrims and supplies came from that direction.
Here’s a closer view of some of the dwellings south of the church and outside the South Gate.
We backtracked away from the church, then continued north. The snow-caps remained to our left (although they don’t appear that way on this bend).
I find it interesting that aduana (customs) remains on the signs, although the building complex is abandoned.
For now the site of Ruscino is closed. This was an important trading center in Greek times, when a string of them were dotted along the coast of the Gulf of Lion. By 218 BC, Livy described Ruscino as walled and hosting boats in river trade…meaning that their principal trade goods came from inland, upstream via the river we now call Têt. I think valuable goods from the Canigó massif south of the river and inland, where there is still a mining area.
Clever archaeologists have indicated the outlines of walls buried by the road.
This is a wide shot of the excavated area beyond the fence (west). The historic area of France called Roussillon takes its name from this ghost town. Hannibal and his thousands crossed the Pyrenees somewhere around here on their way from Cartagena toward the Alps.
As we continued up the Têt valley, the mountains still attracted our eyes.
Interesting railroad bridge.
Our room has a sweet patio, sweeter if it were sunny and the shipping container weren’t there. No seagulls, and no sunrise view expected.
Friday, 24 January 2025
Every day it’s different. I know that’s not a surprise, yet I’m drawn to the sunrise past our balcony each morning.
I’m back on a coffee jag, as the waitrons bring the table a pot of hot coffee and a pot of hot milk, and I can’t resist refilling and refilling.
Sea view off the point of our peninsula.
The cliffs I’m obsessed with watching…wide shot blown-out by the sun.
Obsession rocks, I named them in my head.
We are half-way through our trip, and had/did a totally relaxed day, no driving anywhere, no learning about the past or present, no agenda beyond getting packed to leave for another country tomorrow! We won’t stay but one night—France awaits.