Caudiel

The 11-kilometre green-way from Caudiel to Barracas starts with a view that makes even seasoned cyclists pause. A Victorian-era iron viaduct arcs across a gorge 40 metres above the riverbed, its brickwork stained rust-red by mountain rain. Below, almond terraces stripe the hillside in white blossom every February. Above, griffon vultures wheel on thermals that smell of pine and wet earth. This is not the Valencia of package brochures; it is the province’s forgotten upland, and the village of Caudiel sits right at its heart.

At 632 metres above sea level, the air is thinner and cleaner than on the coast half an hour away. Winter mornings arrive sharp, the church bell echoing off stone walls still cold from the night. By midday the sun has burnished the terracotta roofs, and the single main street fills with the smell of wood smoke and strong coffee. There is no hurry here. A farmer reverses a dented Land Rover to unload crates of almonds; two elderly men debate last night’s fútbol results without shifting from their plastic chairs. The population—687 at last count—doubles when the almond route is in flower, then halves again when the blossoms fall.

The Railway That Became a Path

Caudiel’s modern life began with the iron ore trade. The narrow-gauge line to Sagunto opened in 1906 to haul minerals from the nearby Sierra Menera, and for seventy years the village junction echoed to the clang of freight wagons. When the mines closed in the 1980s the track was lifted, but the embankments, tunnels and bridges remained. Volunteers cleared the ballast, laid compacted limestone, and created the Ojos Negros rail-trail, now the longest green-way in Valencia region. The gradient never exceeds 3 %, so families pootle along on hired bikes (€15 a day from the old station office) while serious riders use it as an altitude training loop. The surface is smooth enough for racing wheelchairs, and dogs can run off-lead through the two short tunnels where the temperature drops ten degrees in ten metres.

Walkers who prefer boots to pedals can leave the village at the signed “Sendero de la Estación” and follow the original service road to the Pico de las Palomas ridge. The climb is 400 m of zig-zag through rosemary and kermes oak; the reward is a saw-tooth horizon that stretches from the coastal plains to the Iberian cordillera. On a clear day you can pick out the radar dome at Sagunto castle 60 km away. The descent loops back via an old ice-house cut into the rock, where muleteers once stored snow for Valencia’s fish markets.

Stone, Honey and Cherries

Caudiel’s houses are built from what lies underneath them: honey-coloured sandstone flecked with iron. Walls are a metre thick, windows small and deep-set against summer heat. Look closely and you’ll spot date stones—1789, 1834, 1923—carved above doorways, the numerals as crisp as the day they were chiselled. The church of La Asunción squats at the top of the hill, its baroque tower patched after the 1957 earthquake. Inside, a single nave smells of beeswax and dust; the priest still unlocks the door at dawn so the widows can say their rosary before the bread van arrives.

Food is mountain-plain but good. Breakfast is tostada rubbed with tomato and topped with longaniza, a paprika-spiced sausage milder than chorizo, served at Bar Central for €2.50. Lunch might be a three-course “menú del día” at La Plaza: lentil stew thick enough to stand a spoon in, pork fillet grilled over vine cuttings, and a slab of coca de cirera—sponge cake jewelled with cherries—during the late-May fair. The cherries themselves arrive by the crate from surrounding orchards; locals preserve them in thick Valencian honey that sets like amber in the jar. There is no supermarket, so the Saturday morning market truck sells everything from brillo pads to razor clams. Bring cash—there is no ATM, and the nearest is a 15-minute drive to Jérica, itself hardly a metropolis.

When the Village Closes

Caudiel does not do late nights. By 22:00 the streets are quiet except for the occasional clatter of dominoes in the social club. Monday is the official shut-down: both bars, the bakery and the tiny tourist office all lock up, so plan ahead with bread and beer. Mobile signal is patchy on the north side of the village where the mountain blocks the mast; Whatsatchat addicts should stand in the church square and face south. In April the temperature can swing from 4 °C at dawn to 24 °C by lunchtime—pack a fleece alongside sun-cream. Summer afternoons reach 34 °C, but the altitude means nights drop to 18 °C, so sleep comes easily without air-conditioning.

Accommodation is split between three stone cottages converted for tourists and a small motor-home aire beside the station. The cabins have wood-burners and olive-wood terraces but are self-catering: don’t expect daily towel changes. Book early for cherry-fair weekend; half of Valencia city seems to decamp here for the blossom Instagram shot. Outside those dates you can usually find space with a phone call the day before—assuming you speak enough Spanish to ask.

Seasons of Blossom and Snow

February turns the hills white with almond blossom; March brings yellow wild mustard between the rows; April smells of orange blossom from the few irrigated groves. By late May the cherries are ready, and the village hosts its one big festival: stalls sell clafoutis, cherry beer, even cherry-infused gin. The local schoolchildren dress as blossom sprites—think cardboard petals and far too much glitter—then everyone dances a waltz in the square until the brass band runs out of puff. Autumn is quieter, the terraces glowing with saffron crocuses planted as a cash crop between the almond roots. Winter can bring a dusting of snow; the road from Jérica is gritted, but the green-way becomes a sled-run for local kids using tractor inner tubes.

Serious hikers use Caudiel as a launch pad for the three-day “Altos de Palancia” circuit that links five almost-empty villages. Day one finishes here, day two climbs to 1,300 m where ibex stare down from limestone ledges, day three drops through rosemary scrub to the silk-route town of Segorbe. Way-marking is good, but carry water—springs are seasonal and cafés scarce.

Getting Here, Getting Away

The easiest route from the UK is fly to Valencia, then take the C-5 Cercanías train from Nord station. The service is hourly, the journey 80 minutes, and a return ticket costs €12.40—less than a UK airport coffee. Sit on the right for views of the Sagunto castle, on the left for orange groves flashing past. At Caudiel station you step straight onto the green-way; the village centre is a ten-minute uphill plod. Car hire from Valencia airport adds flexibility but not speed: the CV-25 is twisty, lorries crawl uphill, and the last 5 km are single-track with stone walls that punish wing mirrors.

Leave time for the return journey. The 17:18 train to Valencia connects with the airport metro, but if you linger over a final cortado you’ll be stuck until the 20:22. The station waiting room is locked after 19:00; in winter the mountain wind whistles straight through the platform. Bring a jacket, or better still, arrive early and watch the sun set the viaduct ironwork glowing like a toaster coil. Then walk back into the village, order a glass of cold Moscatel, and listen to the almonds drop onto corrugated roofs—small thuds that sound, in the hush, almost like applause.