After the successful Portugal trip, we thought a quick weekend away might be interesting. I scanned my maps for a destination within 2 hours. Despite the wide open countryside and the excellent flying weather, there is not exactly an abundance of airfields in Spain. Comparing the density of strips in Spain with that of France or even Portugal makes it clear that avaition is not something that has been high on the agenda for the Spanish authorities. More's the pity, because there are lots of passionate pilots of all descriptions, and the weather is surely the most reliable in all of Europe.
We settled on the airfield of Garray, near the town of Soria and northeast of Madrid, as a destination. Some research on the internet seemed to indicate that the airfield belonged to a flight school. A quick call confirmed that we were welcome to land there and leave the glider parked for the night.
Bright and early on Saturday morning we drove out to our airfield and got the glider ready, taking off around mid-morning.
We settled on the airfield of Garray, near the town of Soria and northeast of Madrid, as a destination. Some research on the internet seemed to indicate that the airfield belonged to a flight school. A quick call confirmed that we were welcome to land there and leave the glider parked for the night.
Bright and early on Saturday morning we drove out to our airfield and got the glider ready, taking off around mid-morning.
Garray is only about an hour's flight from Robledillo, so I added a dog let into our route in order to also pass over Burgo de Osma and the spectacular Rio Lobos canyon.
On the northern edge of the Guadarrama range is one of Spain's many wind farms.
Browns and beiges dominate in the late summer fields that dot the open plains of Castilla y Leon province. The shapes are endlessly fascinating.
Where there is water the green sticks out dramatically.
We passed over Burgo de Osma and its ruined castle, one of the literally thousands in Spain. There are so many ruins dotted around the country, dating from the Middle Ages, the Moorish conquest and reconquista between 700 - 1500 AD, or sometimes even from Roman times, that it is quite simply impossible to maintain or restore all of them.
We joined some vultures thermalling over the Rio Lobos ("Wolf River") canyon north of Burgos de Osma, and then turned due east towards Garray/Soria.
Garray is a charming little village which at some stage must have benefitted from in injection of public money with allowed it to construct on oversized airstrip with a 1400m runway. When we arrived, there was only one little Tecnam - belonging to the aformentioned flying school - and one human soul, a young instructor called Javier, in attendance. We suspect our arrival noticably raised the monthly traffic movements.
The cool, green river Duero passes through Garray and dominates the landscape. The old stone bridge is the most important landmark.
Too tempting to pass up on a hot late summer afternoon.
Garray's other claim to fame is that it is situated next to the ruins of Numantia, an iron age celtiberian hilltop fort that was famously besieged by Scipio Africanus in 133 BC. After 8 months of siege, during which the Romans built a fence 9 km long encircling the whole hill and thus preventing access, the inhabitants of Numantia, weakened by hunger and disease, decided to burn their city and commit suicide rather than surrender and become slaves to the Romans. The site of Numantia was lost for more than a thousand years until it was identified on the hilltop next to Garray in 1860.
(View from the hilltop where the ruins of Numantia lie.)
The return flight on the next day didn't start off well. It was a hot, very still morning. Not a breath of wind.
And the battery had gone flat again. This time it wasn't my fault. The Master was definitely off.
"Man vs Beast": for some reason, on this day no amount of prop-swinging could entice the normally trusty Limbach into life.
In a true team effort, Javier the flight instructor called on the help of a cyclist passing by to establish the whereabouts of a set of jumper cables. After a quick run back into the village in Javier's ancient but immaculate little red Peugeot, in search of the friend of the friend with the jumper leads, we were ready to give it another try.
Contact!
Soon we were airborne and winging our way back home. Thanks, Javier!
That was my last prop swinging session. The following Monday I placed an order for a new battery. There have been no more starting problems since.
