Sax

The castle appears first. Not on a hill, but in one – a sandstone fortress grafted onto vertical rock that turns burnt orange at sunset. From the N-330, drivers instinctively slow as Sax's medieval silhouette punches through the almond groves, 40 minutes inland from Alicante airport. It's the kind of arrival that makes passengers reach for their phones, then wonder why no one's heard of the place.

At 472 metres above sea level, Sax trades coastal breezes for proper seasons. Winter mornings scrape zero degrees; July hits 38°C with no beach escape. The altitude matters more than the modest population of 5,000 suggests – it shapes everything from the grapes that survive late frosts to the fact that trainers outnumber sandals in the shoe factories humming behind the old quarter.

Those factories explain the town's confidence. While inland villages hollow out, Sax still makes things. The Shoe Museum, tucked beside the tourist office, displays 19th-century lasts beside modern safety boots. Entry's free, though most visitors spend longer reading the worker testimonials than admiring the machinery. "My grandmother stitched soles at the kitchen table," reads one panel. The industry's still visible – delivery lorries from Calzados Falcó rattle down Calle Mayor, and Friday's market includes seconds stalls where leather ankle boots go for €35.

The castle climb starts from Plaza del Castillo, past houses whose ground floors once stabled horses. The path's uneven, occasionally scrambly; decent shoes essential, water advisable. Twenty minutes of thigh-burning ascent delivers 360-degree views across the Vinalopó valley's patchwork of vineyards and olive terraces. Inside, there's little beyond ruined walls and interpretive boards, but the setting's drama compensates. On clear days, the Mediterranean glints 50 kilometres east; westward, the Sierra de Salinas ridge ripples like corrugated cardboard.

Back in the grid of narrow streets, the 18th-century Asunción church anchors daily life. Its neoclassical facade hides baroque gilt inside, plus the Virgin of Remedios that residents parade during February's Moros y Cristianos festival. The event isn't staged for tourists – it predates the package holiday boom by three centuries. Locals save all year for elaborate costumes; gunpowder smells linger for days.

Food follows the interior playbook: hearty rather than delicate. Gazpacho manchego arrives as a proper stew, not cold soup, thick with rabbit and flatbread. At Casa Blanca on Calle San José, €12 buys three courses including rice with beans and the local embutidos. The wine list features monastrell reds from family vineyards within walking distance – Bodegas Francisco Gomez bottles 20,000 litres annually from 12 hectares south of town. Their cellar visits require 24 hours' notice; tastings cost €8 including cheese.

El Jardín park provides shade when temperatures soar. Palm trees frame the modernist bandstand; elderly men play cards beneath orange trees that perfume March evenings. It's municipal gardening at its most honest – no admission charge, no gift shop, just somewhere to sit while the church bells chime quarters.

Walking tracks radiate from the castle rock, following ancient terracing through almond and olive. The PR-V 124 circuit to Salinas de Sax takes three hours, passing abandoned farmhouses where swallows nest in broken roof tiles. Spring brings pink almond blossom; October smells of fermenting grapes. Summer walking demands dawn starts – by 10am, heat shimmers blur the trail.

Access remains straightforward. Regional trains connect Alicante to Sax station (€6.40, 55 minutes), though services thin to hourly on Sundays. Driving's quicker – the A-31 motorway, then 15 minutes on the CV-83. Parking outside the old town's free; navigating medieval alleys in a hire Ford Focus isn't recommended.

The honest assessment? Sax suits a day trip, two if you're combining castle walks with winery visits. The historic core covers perhaps half a square mile; beyond that lie modern estates and industrial units. Unlike picture-postcard villages, it works for a living. Saturday's market clogs streets with lorries unloading textiles and plants; Thursday's shoe outlet sales attract bargain-hunters from Elda. Some visitors find this disappointing – they'd prefer timeless Spain scrubbed of commerce. Others appreciate watching a town where tourism supplements rather than sustains.

Weather dictates experience. March almond blossom justifies the climb; August heat reduces activity to siestas and evening strolls. Rain transforms castle paths to slippery clay; the museum and two churches provide limited indoor options. Winter brings crisp light and empty trails, but also the knowledge that most restaurants close by 4pm.

Come prepared for functionality over fantasy. Sax won't deliver whitewashed perfection or tapas-bar selfies. Instead, it offers a working town where medieval walls cast shadows over shoe factories, and where the castle's stone still warms after sunset, releasing the day's heat into star-filled mountain air. Sometimes that's exactly what travelling's for – finding places that existed long before your arrival, and will continue long after.