Lorquí

A Wheel That Still Turns

The Rapao water wheel rises eight metres above the riverbank, its wooden buckets replaced by green-painted metal scoops that still lift Segura water into the irrigation channel every day. Built in the 1720s and never electrified, it is the only working noria in Murcia that you can walk right up to—no fence, no ticket booth, just a low stone wall and a polite sign asking visitors not to climb. On still mornings the wheel’s creak carries half a kilometre, a sound that has shaped Lorquí’s daily rhythm for three centuries.

That rhythm is agricultural, not touristic. tractors rumble through the back streets at dawn, heading for plastic-greenhouse plots that stretch north toward Molina. The village itself sits only 89 m above sea level, low enough for citrus to ripen two weeks earlier than in the surrounding hills, yet high enough to escape the worst of the Segura’s occasional floods. The result is a compact grid of single-storey houses, their façades the colour of wet sand, interrupted by the occasional three-storey block where someone has added guest rooms for visiting relatives—or, more recently, for weekend cyclists following the quiet RM-531.

What You’ll Actually Find

Start at the wheel, then follow the signed 2 km riverside circuit. The path is tarmacked and flat, push-chair friendly, shaded by white poplars that drop confetti-sized leaves in April. Information panels appear every 300 m; the English versions are concise and mercifully free of exclamation marks. Halfway round you pass the old fish farm—now a tidy ruin where moorhens nest inside the sluice gates—before arriving back in the plaza opposite the Iglesia de Santiago Apóstol. The church is open only before Mass (weekdays 19:30, Sundays 10:00) but the north door is usually ajar; slip inside to escape the heat and you’ll find a single nave cooled by thick stone walls that smell faintly of candle wax and floor polish.

Behind the altar hangs a 16th-century Flemish tapestry rescued from a fire in 1936; the colours have faded to tobacco brown, yet the gold thread on Saint James’s cloak still catches the light when the west door opens. No guide will hurry you along, and the donation box is discreetly placed so you can ignore it without guilt.

Continue uphill for five minutes—this is the only slope in the village—and you reach the remains of the Islamic watchtower. The climb is short but steep enough to make you reconsider that second breakfast. From the top the view is functional rather than spectacular: a patchwork of allotments, the wheel turning slowly below, and beyond it the A-30 motorway humming like distant surf. Lorquí has not been “undiscovered”; it simply refuses to perform discovery for you.

Food That Doesn’t Need Translation

Lorquí’s bars open early by Spanish standards—many from 07:00 for field workers—but kitchens fire up only after 13:00 and again after 20:30. If you arrive in the gap, order a caña (20 cl, €1.20) and you’ll still get a free tapa: perhaps zarangollo, scrambled egg with onion and courgette, mild enough for children and vegetarian by default. Casa Ramón on Avenida de la Constitución is the only place that serves continuous food; their menú del día is €11 and includes pastel de cierva, a sweet pastry filled with candied squash that tastes like a cooler cousin of pumpkin pie.

Saturday morning street market brings stalls piled with misshapen tomatoes the size of cricket balls and bunches of herbs that cost €1 however much you grab. Arrive before 09:30 or you’ll circle for parking; the Guardia Civil politely but firmly shut down improvised spaces on the central reservation after 10:00.

When the Village Lets Its Hair Down

Mid-July fiestas honour Santiago Apóstol with a programme that mixes holy processions with decidedly secular events. The highlight, for British observers at least, is the corre de cerdo: a greased piglet released in the football field while teams of teenagers chase it. Animal-welfare officers insist the pig is unharmed; parents insist the teenagers are not. Either way, old clothes are advised, and the mud is optional only if the Segura has behaved that year.

January brings the hogueras de San Antón: bonfires built from vine prunings and old pallets, lit at dusk while residents grill sausages on sharpened canes. The smoke drifts across the river and scents the citrus groves for days afterwards; if you suffer from asthma, give the main square a wide berth after 20:00.

Getting There, Staying There

Lorquí has no railway. From Murcia–Corvera airport (30 min) take the A-30 towards Albacete, exit 148B, then follow signs for Lorquí–Ceutí. The RM-531 skirts the village; ignore the first turn-off and continue to the signed “Área de Autocaravanas” if you’re in a camper. The riverside parking is free, flat, and within 200 m of the wheel. If you’re without wheels, ALSA bus 42 leaves Murcia’s Estación de Autobuses every 90 minutes; the journey takes 35 minutes and costs €2.10 each way, exact change only.

Accommodation is limited. Hostal Lorquí has 12 en-suite rooms above a bakery; doubles are €45 year-round, breakfast an extra €4 but the coffee is decent and the pastries arrive warm at 07:00. Two village houses have been converted into legal tourist lets—search “casa rural Lorquí” and you’ll find Casa de la Noria, which sleeps four and has a roof terrace overlooking the wheel; weekend rates jump from €80 to €120 during fiestas.

The Catch

Lorquí is quiet—deliberately so. After 22:00 even the dogs lower their voices. If you’re after boutique shops or night-life, stay in Murcia and visit on a day trip. Summer midday heat can hit 40 °C; metal parts of the wheel become untouchable, and photographs are back-lit by a remorseless sun. Winter, by contrast, brings mornings cold enough for gloves: the Segura’s micro-climate traps mist until 10:00, and the riverside path turns slick with fallen leaves. Come in late March for almond blossom, or mid-October when the níspero harvest perfumes the whole valley and the village’s only cash machine—inside the Cajamar branch—still works.

Leave before the siesta hour and you might conclude Lorquí has shown you everything. Stay for the afternoon irrigation cycle, when the wheel’s spillway gurgles and a heron lands on the upstream gate, and you’ll realise the village isn’t hiding anything; it simply expects you to match its pace. If that sounds like too much effort, the A-30 on-ramp is five minutes away.