Red rock, dark pines and a sky that seems higher than it should be: that is the country south of Albarracín, where the Barranco del Pajarejo cuts into the sandstone. Geologists call this stone rodeno, a coarse red sandstone that weathers into towers, overhangs and smooth shelters, and prehistoric people used those shelters as canvases. The Pinares de Rodeno protected landscape around Albarracín holds a well-known group of painted shelters with bulls, deer and human figures in white and red, and this gully is part of that wider area, quiet and seldom visited.
Albarracín itself is close and stunning. The town clings to a bend in the Guadalaviar river, its houses washed in a pinkish-orange plaster, with a long line of medieval walls climbing the hillside above. For about a century in the Middle Ages it was the seat of a small independent Moorish kingdom ruled by the Banu Razin family, and later an independent lordship before being absorbed into Aragon. Walk the narrow streets early, before the day-trippers arrive, and you will have them almost to yourself.
The riding is excellent in every direction. The road from Gea de Albarracín up the gorge to the town follows the river closely, with rock walls almost brushing your shoulder. Beyond, the climb into the Montes Universales, towards Bronchales, Orihuela del Tremedal or the source of the Tagus, takes you over plateaus above 1,500 metres with long views and very little traffic. Surfaces are generally good but expect gravel and the occasional patch of broken tarmac. In winter, snow and ice are common up here, and even in May mornings can be sharp.
Teruel, about half an hour away, has everything, so fill up there before heading into the high ground rather than gambling on the villages. Food in the area is robust: Teruel ham, lamb, game in season and migas. The air smells of pine resin and wild thyme, and the light on the red rock at sunset is something you will remember long after the ride.