Aledo

The bell in Aledo's 16th-century tower strikes eleven, yet only a handful of visitors look up. Everyone else is either inside Bar La Plaza arguing over toasted sandwiches or standing on the castle keep's narrow roof, staring south across forty kilometres of Guadalentín Valley that drops away like a stone. At 625 metres, the village sits high enough for the air to feel thin on a hot afternoon, but the panorama explains why this chunk of sandstone was worth fighting over for three centuries.

Walls, Wars and a Single Tower

What remains of the Castillo de Aledo is basically one muscular tower, the Torre del Homenaje, ringed by short stretches of wall. Eleventh-century Muslims started it, Christian knights patched it up, and today the stone is warm enough to burn your palm after lunch. Entry is free but the metal door stays locked unless you phone the caretaker the day before (696 962116). When it opens you climb a tight spiral, emerge onto the battlements, and discover why medieval commanders put up with the draughts: every track, river crossing and ridge is visible. Lorca's own castle glints on the horizon; nearer, the A-7 motorway snakes towards Almería like a grey ribbon, though you won't hear it from here.

The village that grew beneath those walls has barely 1,000 inhabitants, so the historic core is compact. Cobbled lanes no wider than a donkey cart tilt upwards between whitewashed houses. Balconies carry the usual geraniums, but there are no souvenir racks, no "Ye Olde Tavern" signs. Instead you get the Ayuntamiento with its stone coat of arms, the Renaissance front of Santa María la Real, and a tiny bakery opposite the town hall that smells of aniseed every morning at seven. Allow ninety minutes to drift from one end to the other; two hours if you photograph doors and peer into courtyards.

Sierra Espuña on the Doorstep

Aledo's back gate opens onto pine and rosemary slopes that rise another 500 metres to the summit of Espuña. The regional park is eight kilometres by road, twenty minutes in a car, but walkers can cut the distance in half by following the old snow-storage track, a stony bridleway that starts just beyond the last cottage. Stone-waymark posts show the route to the Pozos de la Nieve, 16th-century ice houses where snow was compacted, wrapped in straw and sold down in Murcia during summer. The round-trip is 11 km, climbs 400 m, and needs proper footwear—trainers are fine, flip-flops are not. Spring brings almond blossom and the chance of a griffon vulture overhead; autumn smells of damp resin and offers temperatures British hikers would call perfect.

Mountain-bikers use the same web of forestry roads. A circular ride from Aledo to the park visitor centre, round the high ridge and back via El Berro village is 35 km with 800 m of ascent—comparable to a Lake District pass but with considerably more sunshine. If you prefer tarmac, the road to the top is smooth, steep, and mercifully quiet outside August.

What to Eat When the Church Bell Strikes One

Spanish families arrive just before lunch, so Bar La Plaza fills quickly. Expect toasted ham-and-cheese sandwiches, plates of jamón, and bowls of crisps that keep children quiet while parents order coffee. The house wine comes from Bullas, the nearest denominación; it is light, almost Beaujolais in style, and costs under three euros a glass. For something more substantial, drive five minutes down the hillside to the village of El Berro where Casa Téodor serves mountain rice with rabbit and artichokes, or migas—fried breadcrumbs laced with garlic and chorizo—big enough to split between two. Vegetarians can ask for "arroz de verduras" but should specify no bits of jamón; chefs still regard pork as a condiment.

Sweet teeth do better in Aledo itself. The bakery opposite the town hall bakes pan de almendra, a moist almond cake sold by weight. A palm-sized slab costs about two euros and travels well in a rucksack. If the door is locked, knock—owners live upstairs and will usually come down.

Market-Day Crowds and Monday Closures

Weekday mornings outside July and August are almost silent; you may share the castle tower with two Spanish retirees and a dog. Sunday lunchtime is another matter: cars squeeze into every flat scrap of ground, grandmothers stake out tables with handbags, and the church bell rings longer because the priest knows the pews will be full. If you crave atmosphere, arrive before eleven. If you want emptiness, come on a Tuesday.

Mondays in winter are the dead day. The tourist office stays shut, the tower keeper does not answer his mobile, and the bakery opens only if the owner feels like it. Plan accordingly: pick up water and snacks in Totana before the 15-minute drive uphill, and fill the tank—there is no petrol station in Aledo.

When the Valley Turns Orange

Sunset here is a slow fade rather than a tropical plunge. The western ridge blocks the sun early, but the sky colours linger, turning the valley plantations first gold, then copper. In late January the almond trees flower, dusting the hills with white so perfect it looks like a light frost. By May the same slopes are parched blond, and you understand why irrigation channels still matter. Summer itself is fierce: temperatures brush 38 °C, shade is scarce, and the stone streets radiate heat like a pizza oven. British visitors used to Cornwall's soft cliffs should consider April or mid-September, when daytime peaks sit in the low twenties and night-time brings a jumper-worthy breeze.

Practicalities You Will Not Find on a Postcard

Parking: leave the car in the small square by the medical centre and walk the last five minutes uphill through an arched gateway. The lanes inside the walls are technically two-way, but meeting a delivery van is enough to raise blood pressure.

Cash: the only ATM is next to the medical centre; inside the old village it is cash-only or the bakery starves.

Footwear: even the short geological trail to the mirador involves loose shale. Save the flip-flops for the beach an hour away at Mazarrón.

Languages: English is rarely heard. Enough Spanish to order coffee and ask for the bill will make life smoother.

Accommodation: there is no hotel in Aledo. The nearest beds are in Alhama de Murcia (15 min) or the Sierra Espuña youth hostel (20 min). Many visitors base themselves in Murcia city and come up for the day.

Aledo will not keep you busy for a week. It will, however, give you a medieval tower with 360-degree views, a slice of almond cake wrapped in wax paper, and the sound of a single bell echoing across an empty valley. That is enough for a very good morning indeed.