Albarracín is the town every Spaniard has a photograph of, and with good reason. Its pink-ochre walls climb a rocky spur above a bend in the Guadalaviar river, a medieval fortress-town whose streets are so narrow and steep that cars were long ago banished from the old quarter. Not far off, the Pinares de Rodeno, a forest of pines growing on red sandstone, hides dozens of shelters with prehistoric paintings, also on the World Heritage list. The paridera of the label is a shepherd's stone pen, a humble relic of a pastoral world that endured in these hills for centuries.
The riding is simply excellent. The road from Teruel to Albarracín crosses a high, open plateau and then drops into the river valley through a landscape of red rock, juniper and pine, with views at every bend. Beyond the town, roads climb into the Montes Universales, a high, cold range where the Tagus, the longest river in Iberia, has its source, along with the Guadalaviar and the Júcar. Winters are severe, with snow and ice, and summer nights can be chilly, so pack a layer. Spring and autumn offer the clearest light and the best colour.
Teruel, twenty kilometres away, is a city of about thirty-five thousand people and the reliable place for fuel and food. Its Mudéjar towers, built by Moorish craftsmen under Christian rulers in the twelfth to fourteenth centuries, are listed by UNESCO, and the tower of San Martín, one of the best, is covered in ceramic and brickwork. The city is also famous for its cured ham, protected by a designation of origin, and for the legend of the Lovers of Teruel, a medieval tragedy that is celebrated in a festival each February.
Gea de Albarracín and Albarracín are small, so do not rely on them for fuel late in the day. In the town itself, leave the bike at the car park and walk, because the lanes are steep and cobbled. At sunset, when the walls glow rosy, you will understand why people come here.