La Alberca

I like nothing better than to wander up and down its narrow, shaded streets, listening to the animals scuffling about in the hay behind tall wooden doors, sniffing mountain air that's sharpened with the aroma of wood smoke, flowers and cooking pots

La Alberca

Walt Disney didn't think up La Alberca, the little Spanish village tucked away in the mountains near the Portuguese border, but he could have. When those timbered houses and cobblestone streets come into view, you keep expecting to see Snow White lean, laughing, out of an upstairs window, surrounded by blue birds. La Alberca is that kind of place.

The village is located in a part of Spain many tourists miss, which is a pity. For my part, this is, I think, the region I love best. To sit behind the wheel of a car and explore the Spanish countryside is always a delight, but it is especially so here, in this remote and little-visited part of the country. As you speed along, between rolling fields of fresh-furrowed earth the colour of paprika or past grey rocky outcrops encircled by grazing sheep, a wriggly purple line of mountains to the south and west looms ever larger. In central Spain, villages seem either carved out of rock or out of the earth itself - and every steeple has its family of storks busily building their large, twiggy nests. The road you follow is the same one Hannibal took when his legions marched this way three centuries before the birth of Christ. The city he conquered, Salamanca, stands still in all its golden glory - and the bridge the Romans built over the Tormes stands as proud as ever.

Salamanca farmland; the city at night (viewed from the parador); the famed Casa de las Conches facade

The trip from Madrid to La Alberca is well worth making, for you get to see some uniquely beautiful places on the way. It is possible to do it in one long day, but if you do, you'll have very little time to explore the places you pass by. Far better to make it a two-day excursion, spending the night, before you get to La Alberca, in the hospitable Dominican monastery atop Pena de Francia nearby - or after you leave the village in the Parador de Gredos, a hotel in the heart of the Gredos mountains. Your Madrid hotel will be happy to phone ahead and make the necessary reservation for you.

You'll leave Madrid on the N6, the La Coruna expressway, from the westerly part of the city, near the university. Stay on it until you reach the Avila exit, about three quarters of an hour down the road (Avila is 111 kms from Madrid). Here, you'll swing left and in another half hour you'll arrive in this old, grey city with its 11th century walls. Avila is the most perfectly preserved medieval walled city in all of Europe - and it is equally famed for the reforming nun who lived and worked here, St Teresa of Avila. Park your car by the cathedral and take a leisurely stroll around the walls to the convent of St Teresa. See the cathedral, too; the white marble effigies of the knights of Avila lie dusty in dark corners. Avila cathedral, which smells of incense and cold stone, has a classic simplicity, which is quite moving.

Avila is uncompromisingly grey. It's set, fortress-like, high in the hills and it is frosted with snow in winter. This is sheep country, and Avila lamb is much prized. In vivid contrast, the city of Salamanca, 128 kms further on, greets you with a golden glow. Every old stone building you see reflected in the river has been built from honey-coloured stone, carved with exquisite detail. The city has a tumultuous past; originally Iberian, it passed from the Romans to the Moors, until the 8th century, when the Moors were driven out. For centuries, Salamanca was a centre of learning, rivalling Oxford and Bologna. Though the years have eroded its academic stature, students still gather to drink and talk in the city's dazzling Plaza Mayor, Spain's finest square. Park your car at the far side of the bridge and walk to the cathedral, which is actually two cathedrals, one built on top of the other. The older one was built in the 12th century, the bigger, newer one 3 centuries later. Of the two, I prefer the former, with its simple Romanesque architecture and sumptuous altarpiece.

It's time, however, to leave Salamanca. Drive back across the bridge and take the road, not to the right (that one goes to Portugal) but straight ahead, up over the hill. You're headed for a place called Tamames and, just beyond it, the Sierra de Pena de Francia. In this mountain range, Pena de Francia peak stands apart; nearly 6000 ft high, it offers you a stunning view in all directions - the Castilian plain to the north, the Sierra de Gredos to the east, Portugal to the west and pine-clad ridges to the south. The road to the top is narrow, so drive carefully. The monasterio de Guadalupe, open in the summer only, maintains an independent hospice which makes visitors welcome. So, stopover if you feel inclined, watch the sun set over the sierra and continue on to La Alberca in the morning.

Vista southwest from Peña de Francia

La Alberca is just a few kilometers from Pena de Francia, almost in its shadow, in fact. The surrounding country is thickly timbered, so you approach it under an umbrella of green. And, suddenly, there it is - a cobblestone plaza, a carved stone cross, narrow streets and higgledy-piggledy, those distinctive houses that are unique to the village.The village was founded by the Moors and many of its houses date back to the 15th century. They've been repaired over the centuries, of course, but always in the original style. That style has much character; an assortment of stones mixed with mud - occasionally plastered over-up to the first floor level, and overhanging half-timbered upper storeys, sometimes with wooden balconies or wood-beamed arcades. Donkeys and chickens are housed downstairs. The cobblestone streets are specially shaped to channel water away from the houses in winter; during this season, they become mountain-fed streams. In the summer, the atmosphere here is lively and friendly; bright flowers spill from windows and balconies, you can hear the sound of singing in the streets and villagers, in local costume, often gather in the town square. The day I was in La Alberca, a wedding party emerged into the plaza and a piper, in green and gold, tootled happy tunes to the delight of everyone. On 15th August, the Feast of the Assumption, the village puts on a fervent mystery play, relating the triumph of the Virgin in the face of the devil. See this traditional performance if you can; some of the costumes are very ancient and intricately embroidered.

Houses in La Alberca; piper at a wedding in the village

La Alberca is an enchanted place. I like nothing better than to wander up and down its narrow, shaded streets, listening to the animals scuffling about in the hay behind tall wooden doors, sniffing mountain air that's sharpened with the aroma of wood smoke, flowers and cooking pots. Should you decide to eat here, the local inns will offer you the local chorizo (a pungent smoked sausage), fresh local river trout or the tenderest roast kid. Your wine will be local, too - a goatskin-cured mountain red from nearby Sotoserrano. Who could ask for anything more? Small wonder the Spanish government a few years ago designated this place in its entirety a National Monument. To come visit La Alberca is to step back five centuries.

Farmhouse in the Gredos mountains; El Barco de Avila

From La Alberca, follow the scenic Gredos route back to Madrid, driving back as far as Tamames and then following the road east, to Linares de Riofrio, south again to Cristobal and Bejar. From Bejar, you'll drive east to El Barco de Avila, your gateway to the Gredos. If you have decided to stay overnight at the parador, the route is clearly signposted. The parador is built of stone and sits overlooking a valley. You'll enjoy a fine meal in this inn's restaurant and wake refreshed the following morning to the smell of pines and sound of cow bells, tinkling far below.

From here, you journey on through the Gredos mountains, which are, for the most part, rural rather than rocky. Villages are tucked away here and there, some with squealing little piglets running loose- and there are lots of those castles in Spain you hear about, usually standing windswept and alone atop the highest hill. You come to the Puerto del Pico, the winding pass, with its blue-green-mauve panoramas. And finally, at Talavera de la Reina, you reach the main E4 highway for the 120 km ride back to Madrid.

The last time I made this trip, I ran out of film when I reached that Gredos pass. As I took my last picture, I muttered to myself that, in all probability, the greatest picture of all time would be just around the next bend. And, of course, it was. Close to a place called Arenas de San Pedro, I came upon a road bordered with pines. There, illuminated by a setting sun, was a line of brown-habited nuns, walking, heads down in meditation, as their convent bell tolled in the stillness. Driving through Spain - to La Alberca and beyond - is like that. Have your camera ready and your memories will last forever.