Far inland in the south-east of Spain, in the folded highlands of the Sierra de Segura, there is a small village called Nerpio, and around it cliffs hold some of the most remarkable prehistoric paintings in Europe. Jutia is one of several shelters here, the overhangs where hunter-gatherers painted red figures of animals and people thousands of years ago. This is Levantine rock art, a tradition that runs along the Mediterranean side of the Iberian peninsula and is protected as a World Heritage group. Many of the shelters are fenced and some are reached only on foot, so check access before you go.
The country itself is the real draw. It is high, empty and dry, a plateau of about 1,100 metres with pine forest, wide valleys and stony fields, and the upper Taibilla river threading through. Roads are narrow and quiet, with smooth surfaces in places and sections of patched tarmac in others, and long climbs that wind up between cliffs of pale limestone. The sky seems bigger here, and in spring the hillsides are bright with rosemary and thyme.
This is not a place for assuming services. Nerpio has about 1,600 people, and it will have bars and a shop, but fuel is thinner than you expect, and it is better to arrive with a full tank. Yeste, almost thirty kilometres away, is the larger town on this side, with about 3,600 people. In winter the altitude means frost and sometimes snow, while in July and August the heat arrives with a vengeance on the exposed slopes.
Give yourself time. The turnings are not obvious and phone signal can disappear in the valleys, so a paper map or downloaded route is a sensible companion. When you do arrive at the shelter, pause for a moment and look at the landscape the painters saw: the same cliffs, the same pines, the same wide sweep of valley, and a lot more game.