Inland Adventures and Unexpected Discoveries through the Heart of Spain

Swapping the salty sea air for dry, rolling plains, we turned our backs on the coast and aimed straight for the heart of Spain. 

The landscape changed almost instantly. The wild cliffs and crashing waves faded into long stretches of golden fields, sleepy villages, and empty roads that stretched on forever. There was something deeply calming about it—like Spain was easing us into a different pace, a slower rhythm. 

We were getting used to covering long distances by now, and as the kilometres ticked by, the excitement of exploring a completely new side of the country kicked in. 

León: The Kind of Place That Sticks With You 

León was our first proper stop inland. A city full of history but somehow, never too busy. 

We parked up and wandered straight to León Cathedral, a monstrous beauty with stained-glass windows that made our jaws drop. It was something else. One of those places that makes you feel tiny in the best possible way. 

“Beats anything in Hull, that’s for sure,” I muttered, still staring up. 

The afternoon disappeared in a blur of tapas, beer, and walking down winding little streets. The Barrio Húmedo—the city’s old quarter—was alive but never overwhelming, the kind of place where locals actually drink alongside the tourists. 

“I could stay here for days,” Mary sighed, biting into a croqueta so perfectly crisp it should have won an award. “These small Spanish cities just feel… familiar, don’t they?” 

I nodded. They remind us of home. Not in how they look—León is nothing like Hull—but in how it feels. Slightly overlooked, packed with history, full of interesting people if you take the time to look. 

That night, we parked just outside the city, somewhere quiet, away from the lights. No traffic, no noise, just the stillness of the Spanish countryside. The sky, for the first time in weeks, was completely clear, and the stars? Bloody hell. It felt like we could see the whole universe. 

Getting Lost in the Right Places 

The next morning, we did something we hadn’t planned. We skipped the main roads and took the kind of back routes that aren’t on tourist maps but should be. 

That’s how we ended up in some tiny village whose name we already forgot, wandering through a roadside market, watching a local farmer slice cheese straight from the wheel, chatting to people who seemed to have all the time in the world. 

“Try this,” the old man behind the stall said, handing us a wedge of creamy blue cheese. “Made just a few kilometres from here.” 

One bite. Best cheese we’d ever tasted. Bought a whole wheel of it, plus a fresh loaf of bread and a bottle of Rioja from the shop down the road. 

Price of the wine? Two euros. 

“Two quid for this?” I said, staring at the bottle like it had just fallen from heaven. 

“The folk back home would never believe it,” Mary laughed. 

We found an old olive tree to sit under, set up our makeshift picnic, and ate like kings for next to nothing. No restaurant could have topped it. 

A House That Made Us Stop in Our Tracks 

Not long after lunch, something unexpected happened. 

We were cruising along when we spotted an old stone house tucked against the hillside, half-hidden by wildflowers. It looked like it had been there forever, weathered but still standing strong. 

And then we saw it—a small sign by the gate. 

“Se vende.” 

For sale. 

I pulled over without even thinking. 

Mary raised an eyebrow. “You’re already picturing it, aren’t you?” 

“Maybe,” I admitted, staring at the place. Something about it just felt right. 

A little house in the Spanish hills? A dream, obviously. Would it be in our budget? Absolutely not. But standing there, imagining morning coffee with that view, it was nice to pretend for a minute. 

“Reckon it’s got running water?” I joked. 

Mary grinned. “Not a chance.” 

Towards Madrid—And Whatever’s Next 

Dreaming aside, we had places to be. Madrid was calling. 

It was weirdly exciting heading toward the capital. After weeks of beaches, fishing villages, and sleepy little towns, Madrid felt like a different kind of adventure waiting to happen. 

More history. More chaos. More tapas, obviously. 

We had no idea what was coming next. 

And that was the best part. 

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