Sienes

The church bell strikes noon, yet nobody appears. Not a single villager emerges from the stone houses huddled along Sienes' single main street. At 1,040 metres above sea level, even the dogs seem reluctant to leave their shady doorways in mid-August. This is normal. With forty-eight registered inhabitants—though fewer actually live here year-round—personal space comes guaranteed.

Sienes perches on Sierra de Pela's spine, thirty kilometres north of Sigüenza as the crow flies, closer to Soria and Zaragoza than to its own provincial capital of Guadalajara. The approach road, the CM-1016, climbs steadily through pine and oak before the settlement suddenly appears: a cluster of masonry walls and Arab-tile roofs wedged between limestone outcrops. Parking is uncomplicated—take your pick of the verge.

Stone, Silence and the Smell of Barns

Forget grand squares or medieval gateways. The village layout follows topography, not town planners. Streets narrow to footpaths, then widen into tiny plazas where rainwater once collected. Thick stone walls, small windows and hefty wooden doors testify to winters that can trap residents for days. Walk slowly and you’ll notice details: a bread oven bulging from a gable, a stone trough now filled with geraniums, a lintel carved 1897. Many houses retain their original stables—wooden hatches still scent the air with straw and old harness leather.

The parish church of Nuestra Señora de la Asunción dominates nothing in particular, yet orients the whole place. Built from the same honey-coloured limestone as the houses, it mixes Romanesque bones with later, pragmatic repairs. The door is usually open; inside, the cool air smells of wax and mountain dust. If the key holder, Don Anastasio, is pruning roses next door he’ll show you a 16th-century panel of the Virgin, but he prefers questions about rainfall to tourism statistics.

Walking Without Waymarks

Trailheads begin where tarmac ends. Head east past the last cottage and a gravel track continues along a sheep-drovers’ route towards the high pastures. No ticket office, no colour-coded posts—just a landscape that rewards map-reading. After forty minutes the village drops from view and you’re among Scots pine and Spanish juniper, the Soria border marked only by a rusted boundary stone. In May the undergrowth glows with lavender and yellow cytinus; October brings chestnut-coloured oak leaves and the faint mushroom smell of decomposing humus.

Serious walkers can link into a longer loop that circles Cerro de San Cristóbal (1,390 m), a six-hour circuit involving 500 m of ascent and sections of loose limestone scree. Carry water—there are no cafés, fountains or mobile coverage on the ridge. If snow has fallen, check weather at the Ayuntamiento first; drifts can block the access road for two or three days.

Mushroom Rules, Written and Unwritten

From late October the forest floor erupts with fungi: saffron milk caps, trumpet chanterelles, the coveted níscalo. Cars bearing Madrid plates appear on Saturday mornings, boots emerge, and tension rises. Wild mushroom collection is legal up to five kilos per person per day, but only on public land. Much of the woodland here is privately owned; locals get annoyed when strangers vault wire fences. The simplest etiquette: ask at the bar—there is only one—whether anyone is willing to guide you. Expect to pay €30-€40 for a half-day, plus a share of the harvest.

What to Eat and Where

That bar doubles as the village’s only shop. Opening hours are elastic, but if the metal shutter is up you can buy tinned tuna, tetrabrik milk and 2019 Rioja at supermarket prices. The owner, Concha, also serves as unofficial tourist office; enquire about seasonal specialities and she’ll phone her sister-in-law. Lunch might arrive on a tray at your rental kitchen: roast kid with garlic, or lentils spiked with spicy chorizo from Trevijano. Vegetarians should stock up in Sigüenza beforehand—choices narrow once the mountain road begins.

For a sit-down meal, drive twenty minutes to Majaelrayo. Casa Santiago does a fixed-price menú del día (€14 midweek, €18 weekends) featuring hearty serrano stew and rosemary-scented lamb. They’ll pour a carafe of local tinto if you ask—nothing fancy, but perfect after a windy hike.

Seasons of Isolation

Spring arrives late. At 1,000 metres night frosts can persist into May, yet the compensation is a hillside embroidered with orchids and the sound of returning bee-eaters. April and May offer the clearest air; on a good day you can pick out the Moncayo massif, 130 kilometres east.

Summer brings relief from Madrid’s furnace rather than crowds. Daytime temperatures hover around 26 °C, nights drop to 14 °C—pack a jumper even in August. This is when second-home owners appear, so expect a handful of cars and the occasional guitar chord drifting across the plaza after 11 p.m.

Autumn is mushroom and migration season. Crisp dawns lift into warm afternoons; rowan berries glow orange against grey stone. If autumn rains fail, forest tracks turn powdery and the risk of wildfire closes some paths—check provincial notices online.

Winter is not for the faint-hearted. The thermometer regularly dips to –8 °C, pipes freeze, and snow can seal the road for days. Four-wheel drive and chains are advisable between December and March. Yet the reward is absolute solitude: no phone signal, no engines, just the crunch of your boots and perhaps the distant bark of a mastiff guarding sheep.

Beds for the Night

Accommodation is limited to three self-catering houses, booked through the regional tourism board’s website. Casa del Pela sleeps six, has underfloor heating and costs €90 per night year-round. Smaller options start at €60. Linen and logs are provided; bring olive oil and coffee. There is no hotel, no pool, no spa—just blackout curtains woven from real darkness.

Final Word

Sienes will never feature on a coach tour. Its pleasures are incremental: the way stone absorbs late sunlight, the sudden view of a red kite banking over the ridge, the realisation that you have heard nothing mechanical for hours. If that sounds like hardship rather than holiday, choose somewhere with waiters and Wi-Fi. If not, fill the petrol tank, download an offline map and aim for the empty horizon where the Sierra de Pela meets the sky.