I traveled through the Bardenas Desert for 12 hours in a converted van. And it was really cool!
For those who don't know, the Bardenas Desert is located in the north of Spain. It offers a unique semi-desert landscape. It covers an area of about 42,000 hectares, making it the largest desert in Europe (if I'm not mistaken).
This desert is characterized by clay soils, steep cliffs, and strange rock formations. These formations are actually shaped by rain erosion (and also because of the wind, I was told). They give it a completely lunar appearance.
It was a scorching day, temperatures rising above 34 degrees Celsius, a looming challenge for my trusty converted van and myself.
After traveling miles from Normandy in France to the south of Spain, we stood before the Bardenas Desert, a breathtaking yet daunting landscape.
The van, old yet reliable, had endured much, especially given my penchant for remote locations and occasional off-road excursions. Just five days prior, a bolt had come loose on the road, its origin unknown, shaking my confidence in the van's capabilities. Moreover, the van struggled in the heat, and on that particular day, the forecasted heat was intense.
Yet, there I was, at the threshold of the desert, exhilarated but slightly wary. The Bardenas, with its absence of paved roads, presented a true test of endurance.
The terrain, not sandy but rather hard earth with crevasses, seemed to challenge the very notion of crossing it in a vehicle like mine.
Initially, the road was bumpy, each jolt a question of whether embarking on this path was a wise decision. But gradually, confidence seeped in.
I ventured far, climbing atop El Cabezo de las Cortinillas. It's the only rocky massif in the area where one can walk to the summit. From there, the view of the desert was partial yet astounding.
Looking down, I spotted my van – a tiny blue dot in the vast desert canvas. At that moment, I pondered the existence of life in such aridity.
Time was not a luxury I had in abundance. Being a freelance digital nomad, a looming meeting later that day meant I couldn't linger as long as I desired. Moreover, a threatening storm loomed in the distance. Yet, in those fleeting moments, I realized the remarkable capability of my van. It had taken me to incredible places, reaffirming my belief in its resilience. It only needed a bit more care and attention.
The aftermath of a day in the desert was evident. My van's interior, laced with vents, was coated with dust, particularly in the kitchen area – a stark reminder of the desert's unforgiving nature.
For those planning to visit the Bardenas Desert, my advice is to start with the troglodyte houses of Arguedas.
These rudimentary homes carved into rock were occupied until the 1960s and now stand as a free-to-visit relic of the past.
Then, head to El Castildetierra, the park's emblem, and venture to Cabezo de los Hermanos or Los Tres Hermanos, a mountain split into three parts, symbolizing three heads.
Make sure to climb El Cabezo de las Cortinillas for a breathtaking view.
Don’t miss Las Cabañas, small shepherds' huts that served farmers.
Some are abandoned and open for exploration, while others are still in use.
As I left the desert, my perspective on travel and on my van had evolved. The Bardenas Desert isn't just a stretch of barren land; it's a sanctuary of resilience, both of nature and the human spirit.
All the photos were taken with my phone. You can also find some of them on my blog 'Objectif vie en van'.