Retiendas

The church bell strikes noon, yet only three chimney pots puff smoke above Retiendas' slate roofs. At 900 metres, the village is already lunching later than Guadalajara below. Time doesn't exactly stop here—it just forgets to hurry.

Fifty permanent residents, one bar, zero supermarkets. The maths works because neighbours still borrow eggs and the mobile shop from Tamajón swings through on Thursdays. British visitors expecting a whitewashed postcard will be surprised: every wall is hewn from charcoal-grey stone that drinks in sunlight and releases it slowly through chilly evenings. Locals call it arquitectura negra, the black architecture route, though the effect feels more North Wales than Castille.

Walking Without Waymarks

Maps call the surrounding landscape "transition zone"—a polite term for somewhere neither flat plateau nor proper mountain. What that means on the ground is rolling grain fields that end abruptly in limestone gorges, all stitched together by medieval livestock paths wide enough for one Land Rover and a lot of caution. The council has nailed up green-and-white waymarks, yet after winter storms brambles reclaim them with enthusiasm. Long trousers aren't fashion; they're armour.

A sensible loop starts behind the church, drops into the Barranco del Rebollar, then climbs to the ridge road towards Campillejo. Allow two hours, carry water, and don't trust phone signal—download the track before leaving the A-2. Buzzards and kestrels outnumber people; the only traffic is a quad bike driven by José-María checking his beehives. He'll wave first.

Eating by Appointment

There is no menu del día posted anywhere. The single bar, Casa Ramón, opens when Ramón feels like it, which is usually Friday evening, Saturday lunchtime and any fiesta eve. Phone ahead (+34 949 30 70 82) or be prepared to self-cater. The speciality is chuletón—a T-bone the size of a steering wheel, flamed over holm-oak embers and served bloody for two. Price hovers around €38 per kilo; half a kilo feeds the greedy.

Vegetarians aren't doomed, merely challenged. Migas—fried breadcrumbs with garlic, peppers and scraps of chorizo—can be made meat-free if you ask while ordering. Dessert is whatever María has baked that morning; custard-flan hybrids appear frequently. Payment is cash only; the card machine "gets cold" in winter.

Breakfast supplies must be bought before arrival. The last supermarket stands 20 minutes away in Tamajón, so stock up on milk and croissants at the Campillejo bakery on the drive in. Instant coffee drinkers should note that the village water is mineral-heavy; tea comes out the colour of well-seasoned oak.

Seasons of Silence

Spring arrives late at this altitude—wild cherry blossoms peak in mid-April, two weeks behind Madrid. That's also when the tracks are at their muddiest; bring footwear you don't love. May and early June gift the clearest light: photographers talk about the "yellow hour" before sunset when the stone walls glow like heated iron.

High summer is surprisingly liveable. Nights drop to 16 °C, perfect for sleeping without air-conditioning that doesn't exist anyway. The trade-off is water scarcity; the municipal supply is cut overnight to refill the tank, so shower before 22:00 or wait until dawn.

October colour is subtle—holm oaks turn olive bronze, wheat stubble fades to champagne. This is mushroom season; locals forage níscalos (saffron milk caps) but won't reveal coordinates. Politeness dictates you don't ask.

Winter empties the place. The bar may close for weeks if Ramón visits grandchildren in the city. Snow is patchy yet enough to ice the road from Tamajón; Guadalajara council is slow with grit. Come now only if you enjoy self-reliance and carry chains. On the plus side, central heating costs roughly half the nightly rate of any nearby hotel—because there are no hotels.

Getting There, Getting Out

Fly London-Madrid (2 h 15 min, £45-£120 return with BA, Iberia, easyJet). From Barajas Terminal 1 hire cars line up directly opposite arrivals; pre-book for weekend bargains. Take the A-2 east to Guadalajara, exit at junction 55 for the CM-110 north. After Tamajón watch for the GU-196 signposted "Retiendas 12 km". The final stretch corkscrews through pine and the first glimpse of slate roofs appears suddenly, as if someone dropped a piece of Snowdonia onto the meseta. Door-to-door driving time: 90 minutes, toll-free.

Without wheels it's trickier. ALSA runs six daily coaches from Madrid's Estación Sur to Guadalajara (35 min), then one rural bus onward to Tamajón. The weekday service continues to Retiendas, but the stop is 1 km above the village on the main road—walkable with a backpack, punishing with wheeled luggage. Taxi from Tamajón costs €25; book the previous evening on +34 949 27 31 81 or face a long wait.

Leaving feels like stepping forward in time. Descend the mountain, phone signal returns, and the motorway snack bars appear aggressive after days of quiet. Somewhere near the airport the clock catches up, ticking at its familiar British pace again.