Day 24 Hitchhiking from Baza to Madrid

That's right, Madrid. I was fed up with looking for a place to sleep and the weather forecast didn't look promising either, so I seized the opportunity of knowing Christina, a friend from school who currently studies in Madrid, and decided to go there - hitchhiking of course!

There is two ways of going there from Baza, one that goes west, through Gramada and then north, and the other that goes east, through Murcia and Albacete. I chose the latter because I don't like using the same ways twice (I'll have to go back to Granada from Madrid), and because I wanted to see more of the surreal countryside in the eastern parts.

So far so good, at 9:30 I was ready to go and hiked my way out of Baza to the east, which was quite a walk. 

view back to Baza

Hardly any cars, but soon Kareem from Marocco picked me up. When I told him I had met another Maroccan hitchhiking, he was very proud and invited me to his country many times. As far as I could tell, Maroccans as a minority are met with many prejudices in Spain, and I think he was relieved that I didn't think that way.

Unfortunately he only went until Chirivel, a small town about 40 km after Baza. There was no gas stations in between, even though we drove on the highway all the time, so he just dropped me off at the end of the village. There I waited for at least half an hour, staring at the empty street and listening to the trucks rushing by on the highway.

Sometimes a car came and had to slow down because of a random elevated cross-walk, but didn't stop. This was as always very frustrating, because they were all going in my direction. I was freezing and dearly missed my headband, which I lost in a café in Órgiva. I tried wrapping my scarf around my head without looking too oriental, but I guess I failed on that one.

Eventually a car that had just passed me came back from the highway, the two young adults inside asking me if it was any help if they brought me to Vélez-Rubio, the next town about 10 km further. Everything seemed better than this place, so I went with them. Unfortunately they didn't quite understand my sign language and dropped me off at a roundabout before town, instead of after it, so I found myself in a even worse position than before.

Waiting at this super bad spot with almost no space to stop, I started to understand what people meant when they said that hitchhiking is terrible in Spain. It's not so much about the people, but about the road network that makes it terrible difficult to catch a car. Again there was hardly any traffic, and I don't know for how long I stood there, but it felt like ages. The only thing that seemed to be on my side was the weather - it should've been raining by that time, but instead the sun even came out from time to time.

Finally an elderly lady from England stopped very unexpectedly and was going until Totana. That being more than 50km away, I thought I had overcome my hitchhiking dry spell, but I was far wrong.. Anyway, I had a really nice conversation with her, who came to Spain 12 years ago and wouldn't stop praising her pool, which was her most dear possession and far more important than the house itself. We passed Lorca and its Arab castle, which I snapped a picture of just before entering a tunnel.

As mentioned, one of the reasons why I chose the route via Murcia and Albeceta was that I wanted to see more of the countryside. Sadly it wasn't very exciting and was pretty much they same all the time.

The English woman dropped me off at better spot compared to the ones before, but still a terrible one in terms of general hitchhiking: Again a roundabout (don't ask me about roundabouts in Spain) with little space for stopping, but more cars driving in my direction, finally. One guy stopped but went a different direction, but then a man was going to Murcia, yay!

It was already 1:30pm by the time we were approaching Murcia, and I knew I still had lots of kilometers to cover. They guy, who had just become a father, offered me his smartphone to check blablacar, but in the end I didn't want to break my principles and also was too lazy to register and pay online and call the driver and so on, so I asked him to drop me and the "Rotonda Norte". Telling from the name, one would expect that said roundabout (goddamn roundabouts!!!) was in the North of the city, but nah, not really. Instead I found myself rather close to the city center of Murcia, when he stopped the car. As I got off, the guy nestled around his jacket and wanted to give me 15€ - I declined of course. Never before has anyone offered me money, and I wonder if I looked so desperate (don't think so) or if this is yet another indication for how uncommon hitchhiking supposedly is in Spain.

Now, in the middle of Murcia, I was really annoyed for a second, because the road system looked endless on my map. Then I decided to find some internet and check hitchwiki's recommendations for Murcia to continue my odyssey. Soon found a Carrefour, which even lay in the right (northern) direction, and found out that I could take a tram that would bring me conveniently close to the northernmost entrance to the highway I needed.

When I reached the - you guessed it - goddamn roundabout, I was happy to see that there was a spacious emergency lane next to the entrance road. The bad news was that the road lead unto the A7 (to Alicante), with the possibility of changing to the A30, which I needed to get on. There was no possibility at all to get on the latter directly though, so I just hoped for the best.

The best came surprisingly quickly: A 40-year-old who looked ten years younger and was studying English through an audiobook was going the right direction - halleluja. My joy lasted until he dropped me of at a - yes - goddamn roundabout after Cieza, the next town after Murcia. He had been so kind to drive me to the one after the city, so I would catch the biggest possible amount of cars entering the highway, which came down more or less to zero.

Frustrated I had the most expensive café con leche so far (1,40€) in the restaurant next to the goddamn roundabout, had a chat with the waiter who wished me good luck with a very concerned look on his face, then positioned myself on the corner of the goddamn roundabout. At least the right direction was for once written on the sign, and it still wasn't raining.

After a good amount of waiting in the cold, a young couple stopped. Antonio and his girlfriend were going to, you guessed it, the next town, called Hellín, about 20 km away. But there was a gas station on the way, which couldn't be too bad - I thought.

By now I had realized that there are hardly any gas stations directly on the highway, like in normal countries, but on a "vía de servicio", which can be entered from both sides of the highway. But for some reason people don't seem to need any gas when they're driving on highways, so sad station was completely empty when we got there. I was invited to a coca cola and warned not to hitchhike with any "moros" (Moorish = Arabs), because they were bad people, stealing the jobs meant for the Spanish. I thought my own part to this little rant, then said goodbye to them and left the deserted gas station to stand on the access lane.

10 minutes later I hadn't seen a single car on that goddamn roundabout going anywhere. Then some came, but went in every direction but mine. Unbelievable. 

In the end I was desperate enough to try my luck on the highway, but soon turned around because of course the cars were way too fast and the highway was slightly bending, so I was even less visible. 

Eventually two or three cars took a right and came into my direction - but didn't stop. I already saw myself sleeping in the deserted gas station when an elderly couple (at least I think they were kind of a couple) in the same Mercedes that I had in school pulled over. And they were going to Albacete, I couldn't believe my luck. The man offered to bring me to the very end of the city so that I could catch a ride more easily, and I very gladly took the offer.

We reached Albacete at 5:30pm, but then spent another 20 minutes waiting for Flora, the woman, who had to change her shoes before we dropped her off in the hospital to get physiotherapy for her broken arm. She was very worried about me and gave me her phone number, so that I could call her if I didn't find a ride and it was getting dark - then the man would come to pick me up and I could sleep at her house. As far as I remember, no one has ever offered me a place to sleep before (except for the offers I certainly didn't want to accept), and I was very moved by that.

The man then dropped me off at a gas station just before the entrance to the highway. It seems to me that the only concern of the people who planned Spain's highway network was how to make a hitchhiker's life the most miserable: There was only one entrance for both directions of the highway. (At least there was no goddamn roundabout.)

Still, this was probably the best spot of the day, and I was sure I would find a ride soon. But I didn't. I alternated between standing on the side of the road, sticking my thumb out, and asking people who were fueling up at the gas station if they were going to Madrid. But apparently the residents of Albacete have nothing better to do on a Friday evening that driving all the way through the industrial area to fuel their cars and then drive back home. It was already getting dark when I found the first car going to Madrid, but they were full. The second one said the car was full, but it didn't look very full to me. The third said he had a dog in the backseat and some other stuff - basically a flimsy excuse. The fourth person said yes, he was going to Madrid, and yes, there was space, but he didn't want to take me. That kind of hit me and I was on the brink of bursting into tears. 

Around 7:30pm I called Christina in Madrid to check blablacar. When she called me back I was just talking to Miguel, who originally told me he was going to La Roda, the next town. But I guess he saw my desparation in the face of darkness setting over road and gas station, and so he explained that he was going to La Roda, change his clothes there and then continue to a village in the outskirts of Madrid. 

So we went! He didn't speak a word of English of course, and neither did his wife, who was living in said village near Madrid and working as a teacher of music and English in an elementary school. But with lots of creativity we managed to have a conversation and the two hours of driving passed by quite quickly. At first he wanted to drop me off in a town outside of Madrid, where I would have had to take a train into the city and which probably would've taken forever, but then I found a metro station that was more or less on the way. 

When we got there at 10pm and asked a man walking by for directions, he told us that the station was closed for construction works. Arghhhhhhh. I told Miguel to drop me off anyways, because he had helped me so much already and I knew he wanted to get home to his family. I said I would find a taxi and drive to "La Rambla", the next station on line 7 that wasn't closed, but in fact I planned to walk there, as it wasn't too far. Just to be sure I asked a young guy standing next to the closed metro entrance for the direction, and he told me that there would be a bus coming shortly that would bring me to La Rambla.

Waited for a few minutes in the rain, then got on the bus to the station. I asked the security guard if it was possible to change trains with a single ride ticket, and he confirmed. What he didn't tell me was that I had to switch trains within the line 7 at a station called "Estado Olímpico", because I was crossing from Zone B into Zone A there. Sooooo I stayed in the stupid train and went two stations back in the direction I just came from because I got off. Waited another 10 minutes to take the train back to Estado Olímpico, where I missed the Zone A-train because I had to buy another ticket. Waited another 10 minutes for the next one. Then had to change again to line 5, which I shared now with hundreds of partypeople on the way to the city center.

All in all I needed about 2 hours to get from "Jarama", where Miguel dropped me off, to "Sol", the very center of the city - just as long as it took to get from Albacete to "Jarama". Incredible.

It was midnight when I found Christina in the middle of the square, and I was totally exhausted, but somehow I found some last bits of energy to changes clothes at her place, put on a big layer of deodorant, and go back to the club where she had been partying with some other Erasmus students. Two of her friends who had been flirting ever since the semester had started, finally were kissing each other on the dancefloor - once again a great conclusion of the evening.

Day 23 Baza to the Embalse de Negratin and back

I twisted my cursed ankle twice yesterday, apparently bad enough for it to hurt all night and still being swollen this morning. Probably not the best idea to walk a lot, but at least I didn't have to carry my backpack.

The plan was to hitchhike to Zújar, walk along the Embalse de Negratin and into Benamaurel, then depending on the time hitchhike to Cúllar and have a look there or back to Baza.

It was dark and cloudy in the morning and I wasn't really motivated to do anything. When I finally got myself going around 10:30 it even started drizzling a bit, but luckily not for long.

The Cerro Jabalcón was dangerously covered in clouds though as I walked along the road to Zújar. 

As usual there was hardly any cars, but the second one picked me up, so I don't mind that. They guy told me that in April people from all the surrounding villages and towns climb the Cerro Jabalcón and celebrate a big fiesta there. Probably the most important part of it is the drinking, but it's supposed to remind of a final fight between Christians and the Moorish in the 15th century.

Had a cafe con leche in the silent-as-usual Zújar, where the houses were surprisingly colorful and neat. Then left the village towards the Jabalcón, walking on a dirt track through beautiful almond and olive groves, and soon saw the Embalso, which is the third biggest water reservoir in Europe, and a beautiful one as well.

The photos don't really show the whole picture. This sight made me once more realize how much I have missed so far by just hitchhiking from city to city. There's so many beautiful places in between and away from the big highways. And some things one can only see on foot - and not only see, but also smell, hear, feel.

When I reached the tarmac road that runs around almost the whole reservoir, the magic was kind of over. My mild hope for another coffee at the Baños de Negratin was disappointed, because the place was closed of course. I still had a snack enjoying the view, while some cats apparently waited for better times.

Continuing on the tarmac I got kind of bored, although the landscape stayed interesting. Those sandy hills looked like gigantic termite nests, and fascinating eagles were circling above it.

Almost ran out of water (I had only brought the 0,75l bottle) and it was still at least 10km of boring road walking until Benamaurel, so I decided to hitchhike if there ever was a car to come. Wondered if I would pick myself up if I saw me standing in the middle of nowhere with a stick, a plastic bag and pink stockings. One car drove buy, the guy inside vigorously shaking his head. Okay.

Some hundred meters after this I heard another car coming, which slowed down after it had already passed me. Probably the young Ecuadorian inside had to look twice before he realized that I'm not a scarecrow. He didnt go to Benamaurel but to Baza, but I went with him anyway. 

Back in the hotel I had some tortilla with chorizo and cheese, heavenly, and lots of water. The sun came out half an hour ago, just in time for me to go out and see what Baza has to offer. I've read something about a Jewish quarter but don't really expect to find any remainings.

22:00

I feel a bit sick, and definitely too tired considering that my pensum wasn't that big today. Again I don't know for sure where I will sleep tomorrow and how much it will cost, and that is really annoying me and pulling me down. 

Still I dragged myself outside again after an afternoon nap (guess that's what normal people do here during siesta, right?). Although Baza is definitely rich in history, most of the town consists of new but apparently uninhabited house blocks. Everything seemed closed, no matter of it's 3 or 8 pm. 

This looks like a former train station:

The usual old men playing boccia:

Tried to capture how the setting sun painted the surroundings in a beautiful mix of orange, brown and blue:

And finally, on the way home from the supermarket, I stumbled upon a sign to the "Baños Arabes", which kind of rang a bell in my head.

Super fascinating and free to visit, this was a great way of concluding my stay in Baza. One could see the ceiling of the baths from above, because they now lie below the level of today's streets, and then go downstairs and see the rooms from the inside. The windows in the shape of the Star of David were usually covered with colored glass, which could be opened in order to regulate the air flow within the baths. 

Day 22 Yegen to Baza

Incredible views in the morning, started walking at 9:30 after having a sheep milk joghurt from a fancy ceramic jar. Plan for today was to hike until Laroles or Bayarcal and then kind of see what to do. Up to the pass of Puerta de la Ragua, where I couldn't tech anyone in the cheap albergue, or continue to Baza, where they should have some affordable accommodation, or stay in Laroles, or...

Around 500 meters after leaving the village I heard a sound behind me, turned around and saw: Chili. I had just left him (who is actually a her...) outside the other day, probably because I'm heartless, and because I always used the back entrance we didn't see each other again. I had kind of hoped she would be waiting for me, but had given up on that after leaving Yegen, and thought she probably went back to Juviles. But no, there she was, jumping up and down, and it seemed as if she was smiling at me: "Did you really think I'd leave you alone so easily?"

Together we went into Válor, the first village on the way. Didn't pass any open cafés so I decided the cafe con leche could wait until the next one, Nechite.

Met two old women with big hats on the path, walking in the other direction, which were stunned by my being alone in Spain. One of them estimated I was 14 years old though, I guess I'd be stunned as well in that case. We talked about the weather, about Yegen, and about Chili, then parted ways. This cute and encouraging encounter made me so happy about my rediscovered Spanish skills once again. Without them, we wouldn't have been able to understand a single word of what the other one was saying.

Didn't find a café in Nechite either, but feasted on some cactus fruits instead. My butter knife worked as well as Siv's sharp one, but I got myself some nasty spikes that would hurt for the rest of the day. It was still worth it, just love those fruits.

Onwards to Mairena, where the only restaurant and the only café were both closed. Not my lucky day coffee-wise, but other than that, everything was just perfect. Sun was shining all day and I used my long sleeve as a head cover.

See below: Yegen in the distance, then to the left Válor and to the right Nechite. Great to see which distance you've covered already.

Short kind-of-lunch break in the patio of the closed café, overviewing the Alpujarra valley. Had some TUCs (Chili got some as well), a banana and some nuts. Doesn't really need more to be happy...except for a coffee maybe.

Special church on the border of Mairena. No explanation given for the Star of David.

We continued to the most beautiful section of the day, leading down on one side of a gorge and back up again on the other side. At the bottom we crossed a stream with a small waterfall. All the scents were just amazing in this area, there was sage, rosemary, thyme, and hundreds of other things I can't name.

The way Chili ran up and down the steepest and rockiest paths like nothing made me imagine that she had been a shepherd dog that got sick of her job, so she just went travelling instead. I really loved her company and how she always walked closely behind me or ran a but ahead and then waited for me to follow. It motivated me a lot to have her with her and I think I wouldn't have been as fast without her.

Watering system typical for the region. Most interestingly reminds me very much of what I've seen in Oman.

Finally reached Laroles at around 2 pm and had a hard time finding my way through the usual maze of tiny steep alleys. 

Had two servings of tapas, a coca cola that was blown away by the wind, and finally a cafe con leche at the Hotel Restaurante Balcón de la Alpujarra. Originally had wanted to ask for the price of a room there, but as it was still so early and the weather so nice and the Albergue at the pass still unreachable, I decided to try my luck on the road.

Chili had stayed outside again, and when I went to the bathroom, which was outside, a guy asked me if it was my dog. I told the usual story of how he (the guy then corrected me that Chili was a she) had been following me since Juviles and I didn't know what to do. He asked me if he could take her with him and of course I said yes. He looked really young but was smoking and pointed at his car, so probably he wasn't. His name was Samuél, which made him even more likable to me, and he told me he had many dogs and lived in a cortijo in the countryside. So that was it, I said goodbye to Chili (Samuél didn't like the name haha) and inside again. 

It was strange to see he gone when I left the restaurant, but I hope she has a nice home now. It was definitely better than just leaving her standing on the road and driving away in a car.

Speaking of cars, no cars around of course. One transporter stopped but was only going to the camping ground a kilometer further - I wanted to come anyway, but he told me that this was a better spot and I should stay where I was.

Did so for a few minutes, then went to the camping ground anyway. Two trucks passed but didn't stop, then a car with a "Junta de Andalucia"-sign on it pulled over. And he was going not to La Calahorras, not to Guadix, but to Baza - jackpot!!! Can't believe my luck.

Passed the Puerta de la Ragua including the Albergue, which, as my driver told me, has been closed for a year now because of legal issues. No wonder they didn't answer the phone..

Then down towards a landscape that looked like another planet, temperatures dropping from 15 to 8 degrees. Passed La Calahorra with an impressive hilltop castle which I'm kinda sad I missed, and Guadix with the snow covered Sierra Nevada mountains in the background.

Couldn't find the tourist information in Baza so I went into a tobacco shop, where the young woman told me that the hostal I was looking for was quite far away and she knew one that was closer and probably cheaper. Followed her directions and already cursed myself for trusting a stranger, because I went back to where I came from, but then saw the Hostal San Carlos - with a room for 17€ per night, perfecto.

Went to LIDL after having a shower and bought way more stuff than I want to carry tomorrow. Which is why I will probably stay here another night and do a day trip through desert land. Buenas noches!

Map of the day: Walked from Yegen to Laroles, Bayarcal would've been the next official town, but I hitchhiked north across the Sierra Nevada. The single red dot in the middle is the pass, Puerta de la Ragua.