From silence to asphalt could be called our return route from the Silent Route to Barcelona.

Maestrazgo is an Aragonese region, however, its borders are confused with the north of Valencia, its capital is Cantavieja and part of its territory is occupied by the Natural Monuments of the Crystal Caves of Molinos, the Source of the Pitarque River, the Organs of Montoro and the Fonseca Bridge, many of which were traveled by these three routes of the Silent Route.

After two days immersed in the majestic stillness of the Silent Route, it was time to return. Hotel Las Truchas was the last refuge before setting out on the return journey. It was early, the air was crystal clear, and the sun had just begun to caress the reliefs of the Maestrazgo region of Teruel.

We set off leisurely, leaving behind that legendary road that winds through mountains and ravines, steeped in history and silence. As we left the Silent Route, we began descending toward a series of villages that reminded us of the simple, authentic life of inland Aragon. Ejulve was the first to welcome us, followed by La Mata de los Olmos.

The road, while not particularly technical, maintained its ever-changing character: long straight stretches, gentle curves, and landscapes alternating between open fields and small mountain ranges.

We arrived in Calanda, where we were surprised by its spaciousness and its atmosphere steeped in history; it's not for nothing that it's the land of drums and the birthplace of Buñuel. From there, without rushing but with a clear direction, we continued toward Alcañiz, where its castle crowns the city and the traffic thickens for a few minutes, as well as its Motorlan circuit. It's one of the few places where you can feel a certain urban rhythm, which makes its passage an interesting pause.

Caspe was our next stop. A friendly, transitional city, where we made a brief stop at an Adidas store to stretch our legs and do some shopping. This break, though brief, marked a sort of boundary between the Teruel stretch and the next change of scenery.

Leaving Fayón behind, we crossed the Matarraña River, and with it, we also left Aragón behind to enter Catalonia. It was like passing through an invisible door: the surroundings became greener, the curves more playful, and the feeling of reaching another dimension of the journey became clearer. Shortly after, we decided to stop at a special place: the Hermitage of Santa Magdalena de Berrús. Elevated and solitary, overlooking the river and surrounded by nature, it offered a spiritual and aesthetic respite. It was one of those places that need no explanation: they simply invite you to look, breathe, and continue.

The Ebro River then appeared as a traveling companion. From that height to Flix, the road becomes a pleasure to drive. The asphalt runs alongside the river, the curves are gentle but steady, and the vegetation accompanies without overwhelming. Flix sits in a majestic meander, and although we didn't stop for long, just to refuel, its silhouette at the water's edge will remain etched as one of the most beautiful images of the return trip.

From there, the landscape became more agricultural, more Mediterranean. Olive trees, dry fields, and villages with ochre roofs marked our passage through La Granadella, a place that seems frozen in time. We continued toward Ulldemolins, where the horizon began to rise again as we entered the foothills of the Sierra del Montsant Natural Park.
The curves took center stage again, this time accompanied by reddish rocks and denser vegetation. It was a perfect stretch to enjoy the surroundings, the layout, and the leisurely pace of the journey.

After crossing Vilanova de Prades, a true natural balcony, we arrived at Espluga de Francolí, where history lies underground, in prehistoric caves and ancient tales. From there, a final stretch took us to El Pla de Santa Maria, where we had decided to stop for lunch.

The Mas Pla restaurant was a surefire choice. Honest, generous, unpretentious Catalan cuisine, but with the flavor of the land. A good wine, a leisurely after-dinner conversation, and the certainty that the trip was more than just a transition: it was an essential part of the experience.

Evening was already falling when we returned to the road. The shadows lengthened over the Penedès vineyards, which accompanied us for much of the final stretch. We passed through Vilafranca del Penedès, with its wineries and stately homes, until we reached Sant Sadurni de Noia, and finally Gelida, which already announced our proximity to Barcelona.
We ended the route at the Porta de Barcelona service area, that threshold between travel and routine. We stopped there for the last time, not out of necessity, but to say goodbye. It was the perfect place to close the circle, to look back and acknowledge everything we'd experienced: from the solitary mountains of the Maestrazgo to the green valleys of the Ebro, from the stone villages to the highways on our return.

We were back, yes, but not completely. Because the journey was still within us: in our skin, in our wheels, in our memories. And like every good return, it brought with it the seeds of our next departure point. Thanks to the MyRoute App, it makes it easier.