Condemios de Arriba

The church bell tolls thirteen times at noon—an old quirk that makes visitors check their watches—while a pair of griffon vultures circle overhead, riding thermals rising from the limestone ridges. Below them, Condemios de Arriba spreads across a narrow shelf of land like a handful of grey dice tossed onto green felt. At 1,317 metres, this is one of the highest villages in Castilla-La Mancha, and the air is thin enough to make the first climb from the car park feel like mild altitude training.

Stone, Slate and Silence

Every house is built from the same honey-coloured limestone that fractures into knife-sharp flakes; roofs are layered with black Arabic tiles held in place by the weight of winter snow. Walls are a metre thick, window openings are fist-small, and doors sit low enough to make anyone over six foot duck. The effect is less chocolate-box pretty, more medieval fortress practical—architecture designed to survive north-easterlies that can whistle across the Sierra de Pela at 80 km/h.

There are 106 registered inhabitants, but on a weekday in March you will meet perhaps six: the baker unlocking the horno at 07:00, two elderly men sharing a bench outside the ayuntamiento, and a woman in carpet slippers sweeping the street with a besom broom because, as she will tell you, “the stones like to be tidy.” By 22:00 the only sound is the clatter of storks on the church tower and, very occasionally, a dog barking two valleys away.

Walking the Empty Map

Footpaths leave the village on three sides, signed with hand-painted granite slabs that may or may not still point the right way. The most straightforward loop climbs south-east along an old drove road to the abandoned hamlet of Condemios de Abajo—roofless houses swallowed by brambles, a stone fountain still trickling for no one. Allow two hours, take water, and remember that the altitude exaggerates both sunburn and thirst.

For a longer day, download the GPX track “Ruta de las Neveras” before you lose signal. The trail crosses the ridge, drops 400 metres into a pine-shaded valley and passes three 18th-century ice houses, stone igloos where winter snow was once packed for summer markets in Guadalajara. The round trip is 14 km; add another hour if you stop to photograph the orchid bloom that erupts along the cattle tracks each May.

Snow arrives unpredictably—sometimes October, sometimes not until January—and can cut the village off for 48 hours. The council keeps a single plough, but if the pass above Tamajón is closed you will be spending the night whether you planned to or not. Pack a spare jumper even in July; night temperatures can dip to 8 °C when the wind swings north.

What Passes for Local Life

The bakery produces exactly three types of loaf: a stubby barra, a round country loaf and a sweet mantecado biscuit flavoured with aniseed. When the trays are gone, the shop shuts. Bread is €1.40 a loaf; bring coins because the till is an old wooden drawer and contactless hasn’t reached the Sierra yet.

Bar Restaurante La Sierra opens only at weekends from November to Easter, but the owner, Jesús, will cook mid-week if you telephone the day before. The set lunch is €12 and runs to chickpea stew, roast kid and a slab of quesada that tastes like cheesecake without the biscuit base. Vegetarians get a potato and wild-mushroom tortilla; vegans should probably pack sandwiches.

August changes the tempo. Grandchildren arrive from Madrid and Valencia, inflating the population to maybe 250. A sound system appears in the plaza, and the fiesta programme lists foam parties, outdoor cinema and a mass followed by a communal paella for which you must bring your own plate. Accommodation is booked months ahead; if you want a bed, reserve before Easter or plan to sleep in the car.

Beds, Banks and Barriers

There is no cash machine. The nearest petrol pump is 25 minutes away in Tamajón, and it closes at 20:00 sharp. Fill up before you leave the A-2 motorway, and withdraw enough euros to cover dinner, breakfast and the bottle of local honey you will inevitably be talked into buying.

The albergue Aventurarte has eight dorm beds and two timber cabins with proper heating. Dorm beds are €18 including sheets; cabins start at €55 for two people. Breakfast is toast, olive oil, tomato puree and thick coffee—the sort that keeps you awake until lunch. They will also sell you a map printed in 1998; it is still the best one available.

If you need en-suite luxury, drive twelve minutes down the mountain to Hostal Rijujama in Matillas. Eight rooms, a small pool overlooking the valley, and a restaurant that does a respectable vegetarian risotto when asked nicely. Double rooms from €70; dogs accepted for €10 a night.

Leaving the High Shelf

On clear days the view from the cemetery gate stretches 70 kilometres south to the towers of Madrid, a distant shimmer that reminds you how close the capital sits—and how far away it feels when the road home involves switchbacks and the occasional startled boar. Condemios de Arriba will not entertain you with museums, boutiques or nightclubs. It offers instead the rare sensation of having overshot the 21st century and landed somewhere more durable: a place where the weather is still discussed twice a day, where bread is bought before it cools, and where the night sky remains bright enough to read by starlight alone. Bring walking boots, an extra layer and enough cash for a jar of mountain honey; the village will handle the rest.