Polanco

Before the road wakes up

Mist lifts from the Besaya at seven in the morning and clings to the poplars. From the bridge at Requejada you can hear the river swallowing the night’s water and returning it clearer, colder. At that hour, tourism in Polanco barely exists. It is before the A‑67 settles into its steady hum of tyres, before the first cars head down towards Santillana in search of the coast.

Later come the lorries that still move in and out of the industrial area, schoolchildren crossing the roundabout with the old cable car bucket, barely noticing the rusted container that recalls when stone travelled by cable up to the factory. Early on, there is only a man taking out the rubbish in a flannel dressing gown and a young couple running along the Pozo Tremeo path before breakfast.

The lake you cannot see from the car

Pozo Tremeo is a green eye opening among beech trees. A short walk from the centre of the village, the tarmac suddenly ends, the path narrows, and a stream forms a round mirror, almost like a coin. The water is usually very clear, revealing the pale bed of marl that was extracted here for decades.

When the air is still, a fine film of light dust sometimes floats on the surface, like icing sugar. The silence has its own texture: reeds brushing together, footsteps on damp gravel, the occasional bird hidden at the edge of the woods.

The full loop is around four kilometres. Half that if you walk as far as the wooden walkway and return the same way. In autumn the reeds turn golden and crackle when the wind picks up. After rain, boots are a good idea. The path becomes a thick clay that clings to your soles for a while.

Pereda’s house and a mural that raises eyebrows

The house where José María de Pereda was born has a façade of yellowish stone and a wrought iron balcony overlooking a quiet street. Inside there is a small space dedicated to the writer, with objects and panels that help make sense of the landscapes and characters in his work.

Along one side of the building, something breaks the scene. A geometric, multicoloured bear painted by Okuda. The mix of contemporary mural and eighteenth-century stone feels unexpected at first. A neighbour who often helps with visits jokes that her mother “thinks it’s nice, but doesn’t quite understand what it’s doing there”.

The centre opens on certain days of the week, usually in the morning. If the door is ajar, a knock is often enough. It is not unusual for someone from the village to end up showing visitors around.

Requejada, a port without the sea

The Besaya is navigable for a short stretch before it meets the sea at Suances. At the quay in Requejada, boats once docked to load stone and other materials linked to local industry. At the beginning of the twentieth century, a sailing vessel made of reinforced concrete was even launched here. It floated, though it is said handling it was not especially easy.

Today the quay is quieter. An occasional fisherman leans on the railing watching the current, and gulls gather when the tide comes in. The industrial past lingers in plaques, old photographs, and in the memory of those who still recall the movement of boats.

The train station is close by. From there, several trains run each day towards Santander or inland Cantabria, a straightforward option if the car is best left where it is.

When the village fills with music and baking trays

At the beginning of August, Polanco celebrates the fiestas of San Pedro Ad Víncula. In the morning, a charanga, a small brass band, usually plays in the square. By midday, the air fills with the smell of food cooked outdoors.

In the afternoon, trays of quesada, a traditional Cantabrian dessert, can often be seen cooling on windowsills or wooden racks. Here it is made with plenty of cream, so it turns out softer and more moist than in some inland valleys.

Towards the end of August, Requejada also hosts open-air dances by the river. Village orchestras play familiar songs that everyone ends up singing. On Sunday morning there is a parade of floats, with children dressed as traditional trades and local characters. Not long ago, a monument dedicated to a schoolteacher was set up here, something not commonly found in nearby villages.

Light, rain and quieter moments

Spring has a distinct scent along this stretch of the Besaya: pine resin, damp earth and fresh leaves. At Pozo Tremeo, the trees still let plenty of light through, and the water reflects almost the entire sky.

If the weather turns and rain sets in, the church of San Pedro offers shelter. Inside, it holds a Gothic altarpiece with a notable amount of cobalt blue, often overlooked because few people stop long enough to take it in.

It is best to avoid the busiest days in August if peace and quiet matter. The village fills with cars crossing the area on their way to Santillana or the coast. Some pause briefly at the roundabout with the old bucket, then carry on, leaving Polanco to return to its slower rhythm once more.