Tabernas is a small white town on the edge of the desert that carries its name, and the first thing you notice is the ruined castle on the hill above. It is a Moorish fortress, later fought over by Christian armies in the Reconquista, and it has been a ruin for a long time. The town itself is a working one, built along the road, with a plaza, a few bars and a feeling of waiting for the next film crew. Cinema made it famous, but farming and travel keep it alive.
Riding in from Almería you cross a surreal landscape. The Tabernas badlands are made of soft marls and clays carved by flash floods into ridges, gullies and little mesas, a miniature Colorado in grey and ochre. Annual rainfall is among the lowest in continental Europe, yet when it comes, it comes hard. In the distance, the Sierra Alhamilla rises to the south and the Sierra de los Filabres to the north, and the snow on the latter can be visible in winter while you are sweating below. The A-92 and the older N-340a offer wide, fast curves with plenty of visibility, so this is not technical riding, but the scenery and the light make up for it.
The best time to come is spring, when a thin green flush covers the hills and the temperature is pleasant, or autumn. Summer afternoons are brutal, and a long ride in leathers on bare ground with no shade is not a pleasure. Dust devils, headwinds and a thirst you cannot quite quench are all part of the package. Dawn and dusk turn the hillsides orange and the shadows blue.
Tabernas has the practical things a rider needs. There is fuel, a handful of cafés and bars serving strong coffee and tostadas with olive oil and tomato, which is the standard Andalusian breakfast, and shops for water. A town of about three thousand people will not have much more than that, though Huércal de Almería, a larger place, is the next bigger service point down the road. If the castle tempts you, go up on foot in the cool of the evening and look across the badlands as the sun goes down.