It is a truly magnificent sight, yet one totally eclipsed by that which greets you at the top
On a clear day the view over the desert is farreaching but by its very nature rather featureless. The middle-distance is yellow and grey, sandy earth and sunburnt scrub intertwined with rock, while the horizon has the quality of reddish, wrinkled cloth. It’s all very desolate and is the reason the Tabernas Desert became such a favourite for cinema. More recently leviathans such as Game Of Thrones have been shot in these parts, but back in the 1960s and 1970s European production companies built vast sets – whole towns complete with courts, bars and cathouses – in which to film Spaghetti Westerns, so–called because they were typically directed by Italians, the most famous being Sergio Leone.
At least three of the more major movie sets survive and have been made into tourist attractions, so it’s still possible to tread where Clint Eastwood toted his guns in Leone’s
Dollars Trilogy. However when the landscape takes a marked turn as the hairpins tick by, you will have to imagine you can see the swinging gallows from your bike saddle.
Get up, look down
From the beginning of the climb you’d have never known it, but in the racetrack coils of hairpins that finally elevate you to the summit there are suddenly huge swathes of conifers, and with them huge blasts of chill air.
Rolling through in just a lightweight jersey you would shiver on some of these upper slopes were it not for the steepened pitches between the hairpins’ straighter sections, which are enough to have you adding to the sweat patches. These sections are plentifully long, and between the copses provide the perfect galleries from which to take in the road below. It is a truly magnificent sight, yet one totally eclipsed by that which greets you at the top.
At first you’ll wonder where the grandeur has gone – the summit sees the road appear to dilute flatly into the sky – but seek out another brown sign, which spuriously declares you’re at 1,860m, then turn right along a gravel track. You’ll soon be ditching the bike and wondering how good a grip your cleats have got, but keep the faith and follow this well–trodden track to an outcrop of rock. Now look over – careful now – and witness from whence you’ve come in all its glory. Then take a moment to be thankful this incredible climb remains hidden in the desert. James Spender is deputy editor of Cyclist, and is equally fond of both westerns and spaghetti