Red Spain, Black Spain, Chapter II
Silence
Red Spain, Black Spain by Eliseu T. Climent and Facu Aguirre, Chapter II
The narrow and irregular asphalt curves and twists. Its roughness now sticks the wheels on the ground, as if it was enhancing gravity. The Carretera Nacional N232 flows across valleys, gullies and hills. Olive trees maintain a closer dialogue with the forest mass, eating up their space. The surreal stillness of the whole landscape makes us feel like we were in a bustling metropolis as we enter the town of Fresneda. We alight in plaza Mayor.
Despite its noble look, its elegant walls and unique solid buildings, La Fresneda was one of the cores of the land collectivization movement back in 1936. The town’s libertarian spirit made it an important centre in the main Spanish anarchist labour union of the time, unlike anywhere else in the region. The official currency was abolished and a new one was created. This utopia was regrettably blown away by the conflict.
As we move forward, we leave behind forgotten settlements, mediterranean vegetation, a majestic mass of rocks.
The sun above us and among the cultivated fields a small village is seen: Horta de Sant Joan stands out in a picturesque spot on a hill. Under the Muslim rule across almost 500 years, the town was reconquered by Christians in XII century and some olive trees that embrace the town still go back to the Muslim domination. “Everything I know I learnt in Horta” Pablo Picasso once said: during his youth, the painter spent some time in town, almost three decades before painting his shriek to Guernica, one of the towns shattered by the Civil War. On our way our eyes enjoy the vertical symphony of the Roques Benet, the calcareous mountain pass of the Canaletes river, the vertigo of the higher section of the sierra de Pandols. Enclosed by steep rocks, the road turns narrower as we head towards Corbera d’Ebre, the final destination of our route.
An interminable lapse of time, lasted over one hundred days of offensive, between June and September 1938. The town was razed to the ground by the enduring bombings: while the lower part of Corbera was rebuilt, the old centre and the church of Sant Pere still stand on top of the hill, shattered and bleeding, as a reminder.
I hear just the creek of my breaks as we stop in front of the old church. Today, there is a huge silence.
Photography. Facu Aguirre
Words. Eliseu T. Climent
Artwork. Pol Montserrat
—
The story was originally published in Spanish with the title “Entre dos frentes”
by our friends at VOLATA (#6 January 2016).
Traveller/s
Eliseu T. Climent
Biker and Journalist
He has been working as a journalist since 1993: mainly focused on culture and environmental issues, he specialises in sport journalism (climbing, cycling and running). Eliseu is editor in chief at the trail running magazine ‘Trail’ and collaborates with VOLATA, a magazine about cycling culture. He has been riding his bike across Iceland, Finland, Morocco, Benín, Cuba... and Europe. Besides his own cycling brand Gravel Cycles, Eliseu is also behind the CAT700, an off-road long distance race through Catalonia.
@gravelcyclesFacu Aguirre
Photographer
Born in Buenos Aires in the mid 80s, Facu has been living in Barcelona for 15 years. Here he studied photography, a passion he inherited as a kid from his father. He loves taking pictures, the ordinary moments, everything that surrounds him, the light.
