Ronda and the new bridge

#16 Ronda

On Monday evening, after the joyful news for Berry, we spontaneously decided to take our first multi-day trip on Tuesday. We will go to Sevilla via Ronda. The capital of Andalusia is at the top of Icke's wish list.

Since it is almost 400 kilometers from Aguadulce to Sevilla, I looked for an interesting stopover. Luckily, in this land blessed with historical monuments, you don't have to search long. It should be Ronda, about 250 kilometers away, two-thirds of the way along the A-7 by the sea and the last third on a well-developed road across the country.

We were supposed to leave at 9 o'clock, but we - honestly, I mean Icke - usually never manage to be on time. At 9:10 am, I already started with the first load of luggage, saying, "Honey, we'll meet at the car. In ten minutes." Do you know that feeling when you say something and already know while speaking that what you just said is not worth the breath you consumed while saying it? Yes? That was one of those sentences. At 9:30 am, I went to check where my sweetheart was. When I unlocked the door, I almost fell over! She was mopping the kitchen. With a bucket and mop. Properly, I mean. "You can't leave it like this," she said, convinced that she had no other choice. I turned on my heels and sat back in the motorhome. I had my little pocketknife in my jeans. That was too dangerous.

After half an hour, she came, wiped her forehead, and said with a look that said more than 1000 words: You know how lucky you are, don't you? You're sitting around here and I have to slave away up there. I started the engine.

Just the journey alone made up for everything. The road snaked over high viaducts and long tunnels through mighty mountain and hill ranges, on which small houses and gnarled trees fought for every square centimeter of the barren land. That's how we went from Motril, Almunecar, and Nerja to Malaga, which we left behind and turned inland on the M-20. The landscape became more beautiful with every kilometer. Icke's phone clicked faster and faster. "I could take a thousand photos here," she said.

The nature seemed to flourish here. Green valleys, lush meadows, olive groves, huge plantations with thousands of mandarin trees, and hills with slate cliffs in all shades of brown to dark red. And above it all, Andalusia's bright winter sun, which revealed every tiny detail, as if it were serving it to us exclusively on a tray.

When we finally arrived in Ronda at our pitch around 2 pm, we were almost a little disappointed. We immediately headed towards the old town, about two kilometers away. Ronda, with its 33,000 inhabitants, has many attractions to offer, including one of the first bullfighting arenas in Spain. But we wanted to see Puente Nuevo, the new bridge. It is a road bridge that spans the 120-meter deep El Tajo gorge and separates the old town from a newer district.

When you stand in front of this monumental masterpiece, you can't believe that people almost 300 years ago were capable of such architectural and technical masterpieces. Unimaginable how many tons of stone were moved here and under what conditions. 45 degrees in summer! The construction work lasted 40 years. There were certainly construction workers who built this bridge for their entire working life. I take my hat off to them!