Almaraz

The first thing visitors notice about Almaraz isn't the 14th-century castle or the medieval bridge—it's the massive nuclear power station dominating the southern horizon. Six kilometres southwest of the village, those distinctive cooling towers mark Spain's first nuclear plant, a surprising neighbour for a town whose population barely tops 1,600 souls. Yet this juxtaposition of ancient and atomic somehow works, creating an Extremaduran village that's neither chocolate-box quaint nor industrial wasteland, but something far more interesting in between.

Between Reservoir and River

Almaraz sits at 277 metres above sea level where the Tagus River carves through the Campo Arañuelo region, creating a landscape that shifts dramatically with the seasons. The village proper clusters around its hilltop castle, but spread below lies the Arrocampo reservoir—a man-made lake created for industrial cooling that's become an unexpected wildlife haven. This isn't wilderness Spain; it's working countryside where dehesas (managed oak pastures) alternate with olive groves and the occasional irrigated field.

The altitude makes a difference. Summer mornings start fresh enough for walking, though by midday temperatures regularly push past 35°C. Winters bring proper cold—morning frost isn't unusual—and the valley can fill with thick fog that transforms familiar landmarks into ghostly silhouettes. Spring and autumn deliver the sweet spot: mild days, migrant birds passing through, and countryside that actually looks green rather than the sun-bleached beige that dominates July and August.

What Actually Stands Here

The castle of Almaraz de Arriba rewards those who tackle the short but steep climb from the village centre. Built in the 1360s by the Knights of Alcántara, its honey-coloured stone walls enclose a surprisingly intact keep and battlements. The tiny interpretation centre (€1 entry, coins only) houses medieval pottery fragments and explains how this fortress once guarded the vital Tagus crossing. From the ramparts, the view stretches across nuclear-cooled reservoir to the Gredos mountains—Spain's complex relationship with its past laid out in one sweeping panorama.

Down below, the six-arched Puente de Almaraz has carried traffic across the Tagus since the 15th century. British drivers following the Madrid-Lisbon route often stop here for photos, though few realise they're crossing the same bridge that appears in 17th-century shipping records for mercury transported from Almadén mines. The river runs slower now, controlled by upstream dams, but standing mid-span you understand why this crossing mattered enough to merit both fortress and fortified bridge.

The village itself reveals its secrets slowly. The 16th-century Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de la Asunción houses several notable altarpieces, though opening hours depend on finding the caretaker. Better to wander the back streets where traditional Extremaduran houses sport wrought-iron balconies and occasional carved coats of arms—remnants from families who made money from transhumant sheep flocks or perhaps the mercury trade. These details emerge gradually; Almaraz doesn't shout its history like tourist-heavy Andalusian towns.

Birds, Pigs and Reservoir Economics

The Arrocampo reservoir transformed Almaraz's economy in ways nobody anticipated. Built to cool the nuclear plant, its warm waters created perfect conditions for aquatic birds. Ornithologists now arrive armed with telescopes hoping for purple herons, great cormorants and the elusive purple gallinule. Several marked walking circuits circle the reservoir—none longer than 8km, all flat and manageable in sturdy trainers rather than full hiking boots. Early morning delivers the best bird activity; evenings bring spectacular sunsets that turn the cooling towers pink.

The dehesas surrounding Almaraz continue their thousand-year-old role as Spain's most sustainable farming system. Black Iberian pigs root for acorns beneath holm oaks, their eventual transformation into jamón ibérico providing considerably more income than the nuclear plant employs locals. Visit during November's montanera season and you'll encounter pigs with extraordinary freedom—wandering across roads, sleeping beneath trees, living the good life before their inevitable appointment with the matanza.

Fishing enthusiasts cast for carp, black bass and zander from designated reservoir spots. Locals favour dawn sessions before work, though British visitors might find the permit system baffling—day licences available from the petrol station on the N-V, but bring your passport and prepare for form-filling in Spanish. The nuclear plant's security boats patrol the southern section; fish too close and they'll move you on politely but firmly.

Eating Like You Mean It

Portugal II, the village's only proper restaurant, serves food that recognises no compromise with modern dietary trends. Migas extremeñas—fried breadcrumbs with chorizo, garlic and grapes—arrives as a plate of crunchy, porky deliciousness that most British diners describe as "Spanish stuffing." The presa ibérica, a shoulder cut unique to Iberian pigs, delivers intense pork flavour without excessive fat. Order it medium (poco hecho) unless you enjoy chewing leather.

Queso de la Serena, made from merino sheep milk, provides the cheese course. Ask for "poco curado" if you prefer creamy and mild; "curado" delivers a flavour punch that makes mature cheddar seem timid. The house wine comes from nearby Torremocha de Jarama—light, fruity and costing €2 a glass, perfect lunch-time drinking that won't send you weaving back to the motorway.

Service follows Spanish small-town rhythms. Lunch runs 2pm-4pm; arrive at 1.30pm and you'll wait. Dinner starts late—9pm earliest—and Portugal II closes Sunday evenings and all day Monday. Plan accordingly or face a 20km drive to the nearest alternative in Navalmoral de la Mata.

When to Bother

April and May deliver the complete Almaraz experience: green countryside, migrating birds, wildflowers in the dehesas, and temperatures perfect for castle-climbing. September works equally well, though reservoir levels drop revealing unphotogenic muddy margins. July and August require strategy—sightseeing before 11am, siesta through the heat, resume activities after 6pm when shadows lengthen and temperatures drop from baking to merely warm.

Winter brings its own rewards. The nuclear plant's steam plumes create dramatic morning photography, accommodation prices plummet, and you'll share Portugal II with locals rather than fellow travellers. Fog can close the A-5 motorway suddenly though—check weather reports if you're continuing to Lisbon or Madrid.

Two hours suffices for castle, bridge and coffee. Add another hour for reservoir walking, longer if birds fascinate. Most British visitors overnight en route elsewhere, discovering that Almaraz provides exactly what motorway Spain doesn't: proper food, real prices, and conversations with people who aren't selling you anything. Just don't expect a tourist office, souvenir shops, or anyone who speaks much English. This remains, despite the nuclear neighbour, a village that lives for itself rather than for visitors—which might be its greatest attraction of all.