A Motorhome Mini-Break in Aranjuez and South to Valdepenas

Zagan the motorhome has had a mini-break, three nights at Camping Aranjuez, about 30 miles south of the centre of Madrid (N40.043449, W3.600111).

After five nights without electric hook-up, little driving and cold weather with minimal sun (it even snowed a couple of the days), Zagan’s batteries were running low. After two days sightseeing around Madrid, clocking up over 10 km each day, the stinking cold I’d picked up was getting the better of me. I needed to recharge too. In this situation there is only one thing for it – a campsite.

Out came the ASCI Camping Card book (out of season discount campsites) and the nearest place to Madrid, following our planned route south, was just outside Aranjuez. We knew nothing about the town other than it was the place where the train we’d caught into Madrid from Pinto each day started from. If I’m honest, I expected a bit of a commuter town with not much to it.

Before we left Madrid we got ourselves geared up for a few days on a site which may or may not be in the middle of nowhere. Zagan was filled and emptied (the service point at Pinto was huge we were the only ones in the aire), we bagged a tank full of the cheapest diesel we’ve seen so far (€1.16 a litre), we failed to buy LPG by missing the entrance to three stations selling the stuff (due to the traffic and tiny slip roads) and finally we stocked up at Lidl. A quick blast down the free A4 motorway later and we were soon tucked in behind the walls of the campsite; checked in, hooked up to the leccy and with our Moroccan mat rolled out on the muddy grass outside.

After all that I was done in for the rest of the day, so I snoozed and read in Zagan while Jay went for an exploratory jog around the area. It turns out Aranjuez isn’t some commuter town, it’s also known as The Royal Estate of Aranjuez and has been one of the Spanish Crown’s Royal Sites ever since it was named as such by King Philip II in 1560. There’s even talk of Hannibal (he of the elephants and mountains fame, not Dr Lecter) beating the Romans in a battle somewhere around here. But it’s the Royal Palace and surrounding buildings that folks come here to see, leading to it being declared a World Heritage Cultural Landscape by UNESCO in the year 2001.

With the sun making an appearance on Thursday, it would have been rude not to drag myself out for a look around the place too. The walk along the river from campsite was less than a kilometre to the Royal Palace.

I didn’t have the energy to go in for a look around, but we wandered around the gardens for a bit and the Casa de Oficios y Caballeros (which I thought was where they kept the horses, but turns out it’s the servants and Knights quarters – who would surely have had some horses?!) We ventured a little way into the main part of town, but by then I was flagging, so we made our way back to the campsite.

After a couple of days of rest I was feeling a bit better, so much so that when Jay went out for a run I did an inventory of all the food stuff we have packed into Zagan. He was completely emptied over winter back home, then we bought some food to take with us, then we emptied the cupboards back home, then we bought a few more last minute things before we left the UK, then we stocked up when we got to Spain. Let’s just say if we ended up on the campsite for a month, we wouldn’t starve.

While at the campsite we had time to chat about what we want to do on this trip. Toledo was just down the road, but we both agreed we were citied out after Madrid (sorry Toledo, maybe next time!). We then looked at loads of other interesting places but nothing was really lighting our fires. In the end we realised what we really want at the moment is somewhere nice and warm and sunny, preferably near a beach and some hills/mountains for running in (Jay not me), oh and walking distance to a town or village. Surely it’s not too much to ask? Anyway decision made – we’re heading south.

After three nights on the campsite it was time to move on. I was feeling almost human again and with rain forecast for the next couple of days, it makes them perfect for driving days. We carried on down the free A4 motorway to Valdepenas. Along the way it was clear we had stepped into Don Quixote territory. Vast open plains where you can see for miles, small white windmills on hillsides (well just a couple, probably tarted up and put by the motorway for us drive throughers), oh and the odd statue and sculpture of him.

At this point I have to confess, I have never read Don Quixote. In fact for years I thought it was an odd name for a donkey Hortay. Then I figured it was a real person, then Jay explained to me that it was a novel. Turns out he tried to read it but struggled to get it, a bit of googling tells me he’s not alone. Still the write of Don Quixote appears on the back of the gold coloured Spanish cent coins, so he’s probably up there with Shakespeare (who I didn’t really understand either!).

Reaching Valdepenas our first stop was for LPG. We thought we were running really low after two weeks on the road (the gauges on the bottles are pretty ineffective), however when we filled up only 24 litres went in, so we still had 10 litres left – we could have lasted another week on that (this is our LPG system)! Still it’s always a nice feeling knowing your LPG bottles are full. We thought we’d got the co-ordinates wrong as we closed in on the motorhome aire (N38.77776, W3.39190), as all around us were large industrial units. Then tucked away in the middle of them there it was. A perfect little car park with big spaces, a motorhome service point and a children’s play area – all for free.

After a spot of lunch and a run for Jay, we wandered towards the town. The main road was lined with huge amphora (terracotta clay pots) telling us we were in wine territory. In fact we were now on the Don Quixote and Wine Routes, and surrounded by places making Manchengo cheese (which is made in the La Mancha region from the milk of sheep of the Manchega breed). It was the full on Spanish experience.  

Sadly as we reached the town the experience got even more authentic. It was 3pm on a Saturday afternoon and the place was deserted. Two shops were open, one selling make up, one a 24 hour food place full of vending machines. Yes, not only are places closed on a Sunday around here, it’s half day on Saturday. I can’t fault the Spanish, they have life worked out right.

Tomorrow we’re heading further south, maybe even reaching the coast and the promised land of sunshine and warmth, but for now the full LPG tanks are keeping us toasty as the rain patters on Zagan’s roof.

Ju x