Algatocín

A balcony above the cork oaks

The first thing that strikes you is the silence. Not the oppressive kind, but the sort that makes you realise how much background noise you normally tune out. Algatocín sits 725 metres above sea level, perched on a ridge that drops away into the Genal Valley, and the only sounds are the wind through the cork oaks and the occasional clink of coffee cups from Bar Alameda.

This is one of the smaller Pueblos Blancos – barely 800 souls – and it feels it. Houses tumble down the hillside in a jumble of whitewashed walls and terracotta roofs, their balconies crammed with geraniums that somehow survive the mountain air. The streets are barely wide enough for a donkey, which explains why everyone parks on the main road and walks in. Trust us: you don't want to attempt driving through. The gradients would make a Land Rover weep.

What passes for a centre

The village proper clusters around the 16th-century Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de la Encarnación, a solid, no-nonsense building that probably occupies the same spot as the Moorish fort that once guarded these passes. Inside, it's all vaulted ceilings and gilt altarpieces – nothing spectacular, but then Algatocín isn't trying to impress anyone. The real action happens outside in Plaza de la Constitución, where the old men gather on benches and debate the price of chestnuts with the intensity of City traders.

Walk anywhere for five minutes and you'll hit a mirador – these natural balconies carved into the rock that drop straight down to the valley floor. The best one's five kilometres above the village: a 360-degree panorama that takes in the cork forests of Los Alcornocales and, on clear days, the Rif Mountains of Morocco. Bring a jacket. Even in August, the wind up here has teeth.

Forests that remember the Moors

The chestnut and cork oak forests aren't just scenery – they're the reason Algatocín exists. For centuries, locals harvested cork for wine bottles and chestnuts for export to Málaga. The trees remain, threaded with footpaths that link the village to its neighbours. The Sendero del Castaño winds through ancient woods to Benadalid, a three-hour hike that passes abandoned cortijos and stone threshing circles. It's properly way-marked, but sturdy footwear helps: the paths are stony and the cobbles slick as ice after rain.

October transforms the forests into something接近于magical (though we'd never use that word). The chestnuts turn copper and gold, and the village hosts its Fiesta de la Castaña – essentially an excuse to roast nuts, drink local wine and dance until the small hours. For three days, the smell of burning chestnut wood drifts through streets that normally smell of woodsmoke and mountain herbs.

Food that sticks to your ribs

Algatocín's cuisine doesn't mess about. This is mountain food – hearty, pork-heavy and designed to fuel labourers who've spent the morning hacking at cork bark. Mesón La Ermita does a solid menu del día for €12: gazpacho serrano thick enough to stand a spoon in, followed by plato de los montes – essentially pork, chorizo and a fried egg on a plate. Vegetarians should probably self-cater.

The local speciality is churros with honey, served only on fiesta mornings from Bar Alameda. They're not the neat, looped affairs you get on the costas – these are thick, knotted ropes of dough, crispy outside, doughy within, drizzled with honey from hives in the valley. The honey's worth buying by the jar: pale, fragrant and nothing like the supermarket stuff.

When to come, when to stay away

Spring and autumn are golden. May brings wildflowers and temperatures in the low twenties – perfect for walking without melting. September and October offer clear skies and the chestnut harvest. July and August are brutal: temperatures hit 38°C, most bars shut between 2 pm and 5 pm, and the only shade is inside the church.

Winter's a mixed bag. The village gets proper mountain weather – sharp frosts, occasional snow – but the forests look magnificent under a dusting of white. Most accommodation stays open, and you'll have the trails to yourself. Just check the weather before you set out: the mountain road from Ronda can ice over.

The practical stuff you need to know

Fly to Málaga, hire a car, and allow 1 hour 45 minutes via the A-7 and A-397. Fuel up at San Pedro de Alcántara – the last cheap petrol before the mountains. Park in the lay-bys on the A-369 and walk in; driving through the village is a recipe for scraped wing mirrors and marital discord.

There's no ATM in Algatocín – nearest is Gaucín, 10 kilometres away. Shops close 2 pm-5:30 pm, so buy supplies in the morning or plan a long lunch. Accommodation is limited: a handful of casas rurales and one proper hotel, all booked solid during fiestas. Expect to pay €60-80 for a double room, less out of season.

Evenings are quiet. After 10 pm, the only sounds are crickets and the occasional TV from someone's living room. If you want nightlife, you're in the wrong village. If you want to sit on a balcony with a bottle of Ronda red and watch the sun disappear behind the Sierra Crestellina, Algatocín delivers.

Come for the views, stay for the silence, leave before you start recognising the dogs by name.