Morella

The road to Morella climbs through 600 metres of altitude in the final fifteen minutes alone. Hair-pin bends stack upon each other like a child's scribble, the tarmac narrowing until two Fiats touching wing-mirrors feel like articulated lorries. Then the fortress appears—stone stacked on stone, 984 metres above the Mediterranean that you glimpsed an hour ago—and you understand why every civilisation from the Iberians to General Saragossa’s artillerymen wanted the spot.

Inside the Walls

Pass under the Porta de Sant Miquel and the temperature drops three degrees. Narrow lanes of honey-coloured masonry funnel the wind, so even in August visitors reach for a jumper. The uphill slog to the castle takes twenty minutes if you are fit, thirty if you stop to read the Arabic inscriptions rebuilt into the thirteenth-century walls. Entry is €6 and covers the keep, a small museum of armour and the lesser towers; pensioners pay €4.50. Go before 11:00 or after 17:00 to avoid the only crowd this town ever sees: Spanish school parties on Tuesday mornings and French motorhomers at lunch.

From the battlements the view unrolls like a medieval map: the Maestrazgo range to the north, almond terraces dropping south toward the Ebro delta, and the single tarmac ribbon you arrived on looking suddenly fragile. Griffon vultures turn lazily above—more dependable than the café terraces below, where Wi-Fi passwords are written on slate and the espresso costs €1.20.

Back in the streets, the Basílica of Santa María hides a spiral staircase carved from a single block of stone. The treads wear smooth; hold the rope and hope the person behind you is not wearing heels. Inside, the Baroque organ still functions and gives free recitals most Saturdays at noon. Check the poster by the south door; times drift according to the organist's other job in the bakery.

What to Eat When the Mistral Blows

Morella's kitchens were designed for cold nights. Start with croqueta morellana, a croquette of minced kid and truffle the size of a cricket ball—two make a meal. Longaniza de Morella, a lean cured sausage scented with mountain thyme, appears in every sandwich bar; ask for it grilled and the fat caramelises into smoky shards. At Restaurante Daluan (calle Sor Florinda, closed Monday) the tasting menu runs to seven courses but portions are tapas-sized; expect game terrine, local lamb shoulder and a shot-glass of truffled custard. The bill lands around €35 with wine, which explains the Bib Gourmand sticker in the window. For simpler fare, Cafè de la Llotja serves gachas, a thick savoury porridge that shepherds once carried in a pocket—perfect if horizontal sleet is blowing off the plateau.

Vegetarians survive on tascas—small flatbreads topped with roasted aubergine and ewes'-milk cheese. Sweet teeth head to Pastisseria Gil for flaons, half-moon pastries stuffed with cottage cheese and honey. Buy a cardboard tube of them; they survive the drive home better than the pottery you will inevitably lug up the castle steps.

Walking Off the Sausage

Morella sits on the GR-33 long-distance path, but you need not walk to Zaragoza to justify the boots. A three-kilometre loop leaves from the Convent gate, climbs through umbrella pines and delivers you to the Ermita de la Virgen de Vallivana just as the morning sun lifts over the ridge. The hermitage is locked, but the stone bench outside faces south across a canyon where eagles nest—bring binoculars and a sandwich. Allow ninety minutes return, longer if you insist on photographing every wild-pear blossom.

Keener hikers can push east into the Tinença de Benifassà natural park. The PR-CV 147 follows an old charcoal burners' track to a waterfall that actually flows in April and May; outside those months it is a cool gorge full of ferns and frogs. Pick up the free map at the tourist office in Plaça de l’Ajuntament; mobile coverage vanishes within minutes.

Winter brings a different sport: hoping the N-232 stays open. Snow can block the pass for half a day, picturesque until you are parked behind a Portuguese lorry spinning its wheels. Chains live in every local car boot; rental vehicles rarely include them, so check the forecast before setting out from Valencia or Barcelona. If the white stuff arrives, the castle photographs beautifully—just descend before the Guardia Civil close the upper road.

When to Come and Where to Sleep

Spring and autumn give warm days and sharp evenings; almond blossom arrives late, usually mid-March, because the town sits a kilometre closer to the sky than Benidorm. Easter week is solemn, crowded and worth it—hooded processions squeeze beneath vaulted archways while drummers bounce noise off stone. Mid-August fiestas are louder, with outdoor concerts and foam parties that feel faintly ridiculous within medieval walls. Book early for both; rooms number fewer than 300.

Hotels cluster inside the walls, handy because your car will spend the night in the free car park below. Three-star Hotel Cardenal Ram converts a sixteenth-century palace into rooms with underfloor heating—essential in January. Hostal Casa Roque is cheaper, family-run, and serves coffee strong enough to wake a gargoyle. If you crave a pool, head three kilometres downhill to Heredad de Cortijo; the views back up to the fortress at sunset justify the taxi ride.

Leaving Without a Fridge Magnet

Morella does not do tacky souvenirs, partly because the streets are too steep for tour buses. What you find are useful things: a hand-forged iron hook that will outlive you, saffron from the flatlands below sold in test tubes, honey flavoured with rosemary that actually tastes of the plant. Pack carefully; that ceramic jug seems light at 900 metres but gains mass with every downward hair-pin.

Drive away before dusk and the castle keeps watch in the rear-view mirror long after the engine has cooled. You will have climbed a thousand-year-old staircase, eaten goat and truffle for lunch, and felt the wind that once carried hawk and cannonball. Not bad for a detour that most British travellers still miss—though after the next round of motorway improvements that may change. Visit while the parking outside the walls is still free and the waiter remembers your order after one coffee.