Every summer the story is about tourists ‘overwhelming’ Spain. But most of the 85 million annual visitors go to a handful of places: Mallorca, Ibiza, the Canary Islands, Barcelona… It’s easy to get off the beaten track and explore undiscovered Spain. I have traveled that vast country for the past thirty years, and there is one region I prefer to visit more than any other. If you’re looking for adventure, La Mancha is the place to go.
At first glance, La Mancha seems an unlikely holiday destination. The terrain is mainly flat and featureless. Landmarks are few and far between. It is far from the sea and the weather is extreme: scorching hot in summer, bitterly cold in winter. Yet there is something about this place that draws you in. The villages are rugged and authentic, virtually untouched by tourism. In La Mancha you have the feeling that you are really traveling. This is the real Spain.
I first came here twenty years ago, following in the footsteps of Don Quixote. It was the 400th anniversary of Cervantes’ groundbreaking novel, and the Spanish tourist board had devised a Ruta de Don Quixote to attract more visitors to La Mancha. Of course the whole concept was absurd. No one knows why Cervantes posted his story here, but he probably took the Mickey with him. Then, as now, La Mancha was the backside of the afterlife, in the middle of nowhere. Don Quixote is a crazy old man who deludes himself into thinking he is a knight in shining armor. Calling him Don Quixote de la Mancha is like calling him the Lord of No Man’s Land.
As I strolled through this obscure backwater, lost, tired and lonely, I began to feel a bit like Don Quixote, a deluded fool chasing shadows. Don Quixote is a pathetic fantasist. His odyssey is a wild goose chase. Would my journey along this road to nowhere also prove to be a fool’s errand?
There are few specific locations in the novel and so the Ruta de Don Quixote, like the book, is quite imaginative. But once you give up trying to follow in Don Quixote’s footsteps (a quixotic quest, if ever there was one) and just enjoy the journey and the scenery, La Mancha comes alive. This rugged landscape has a barren, forbidding beauty, and scattered throughout this arid hinterland are some beautiful historic towns. It’s exciting to find a place so close to home where you feel more like a traveler than a tourist – a place that British visitors rarely visit. I’ve been back several times since then and every time I go I like it more. A road trip is the best way to see La Mancha. Ten days should cover it. Here’s how to do it and what to do along the way.
Finding good hotels in La Mancha can be a bit hit and miss. Before you head out, I recommend booking rooms at the Paradors in Toledo, Almagro, Alarcón and Cuenca – in that order. I suggest you stay two nights in each. Paradors are smart, state-run hotels, often located in antique buildings. They are popular with Spanish travelers, and these four are particularly atmospheric.
It’s easy to get there. Fly to Madrid and pick up a rental car at the airport. From there it is another 90 kilometers to Toledo, the medieval capital of Spain and the gateway to La Mancha. Perched on a steep hill rising above the sunburnt plain, it is a beautiful place to wander. The biggest treat is seeing the enchanting paintings of El Greco, who created many of his greatest works of art here. His photographs are located in numerous mansions, churches and museums in Toledo. A walking tour of these locations is a great way to get to know the city.
After two nights in Toledo you are ready to hit the road again. After a late, leisurely breakfast, drive to Consuegra, 64 kilometers south. Rising high above the city, the row of eleven white windmills is one of the most iconic landmarks in Spain, the defining image of La Mancha. The sleepy town below is pleasant and unpretentious. The Plaza Mayor is a good place for lunch.
After lunch you drive another 90 kilometers south to Almagro. In the 16th century Almagro was a prosperous and important place, but not much has happened since and much of the Renaissance architecture has been preserved. The crowning achievement of Almagro’s work is the Coral de las Comedias, a perfectly preserved 16th-century theater, an ornate relic of Spain’s Golden Age.
Almagro makes a convenient base for a day trip to Valdepeñas, about 40 km away. This beautiful town is the center of La Mancha’s thriving wine trade. There are plenty of bodegas in the city where you can do tastings and buy a few bottles to take away. If you’re here in September, don’t miss the city’s annual wine festival (the Museo del Vino is also worth a visit all year round). The local Tempranillo used to be seen as a cheap and cheerful table wine, but its quality has increased significantly in recent years.
After two nights in Almagro, it’s time to drive 200 kilometers east, all the way to Alarcón – a small citadel perched on a narrow promontory, protected by the deep gorge of the Rio Júcar. It’s wild, remote and windy, like a scene from El Cid. Today it is a peaceful place, but it has a long and violent history. It was inhabited by the Celts, and then by the Romans, and then by the Moors, who built the ancient castle at its core, way back in the 8th century. The castle was captured by the Christians in 1085, reconquered by the Moors and then reconquered for good by the Christians in 1184. Nowadays it is a cozy Parador. The fortified town is small, but there are plenty of nice places to eat and drink.
The final destination is Cuenca, 80 kilometers north of Alarcón. It’s a spectacular city, huddled on a cliff, surrounded by vertiginous ravines. The Parador, housed in a converted monastery, offers some of the best views. An even more dramatic viewpoint is the Museo de Arte Abstracto, located in one of the ‘hanging houses’ that cling to the edge of the cliff. Under Franco’s fascist tyranny, figurative painting was a risky pursuit, and so abstraction became a haven for dissident artists. This museum shows a nice selection of their work.
From Cuenca it is 160 kilometers west to Madrid airport. It was my last night in La Mancha and I was in no hurry to go home. I was strolling through the city without a plan, without any idea where I was going, and then the rain fell, the first rain here in weeks. It felt divine. Soaked and satisfied, I dived into a cervecería. There was a bullfight on television. Standing room only. The place was packed. I pushed my way through to the bar and ordered a beer and tried to pay for it, but the bartender smiled and shook his head. He saw that I had come a long way. I was welcome here. This one was at the house.
Well, that’s La Mancha – at least what I’ve seen of it. When you go, you make your own discoveries. You’ll probably have a few accidents too; it is that kind of place. There are many dead ends, one horse towns that you would never want to visit again, but the special things are truly special, things that you will remember for a lifetime. I have had more comfortable holidays in other parts of Spain, but La Mancha is where I have had the best adventures. I can’t wait to go again.