Cabrillanes

The road from Villablino climbs 400 m in the last twelve tight kilometres, phone signal flickers out, and the CL-626 finally spills into Cabrillanes at 1,249 m above sea level. The first building you notice is the stone-and-slate church of San Juan Bautista, its bell tower skewed slightly by centuries of freeze-thaw. No souvenir stalls, no coach bays, just a single Día supermarket with handwritten opening hours taped to the door.

High-altitude living, low-speed rhythm

Cabrillanes is the administrative hub of Babia, a comarca the size of the Isle of Wight but home to barely 600 people. Houses are scattered along the River Luna in half a dozen hamlets—Piedrafita, Mena, Torre—each no bigger than a Cotswold hamlet. Winters last six months; snow can fall from October to May. Summers are short, cool and alive with cowbells as cattle move up to the high pastures called brañas. The village timetable is still set by grazing, milking and the twice-daily passage of the regional school bus that trundles children down to Villablino.

Architecturally, the place is honest rather than pretty: thick stone walls, tiny windows and slate roofs designed to shrug off Atlantic storms. Some cottages have been restored as weekend retreats for León families; others stand roofless, their timber balconies slowly surrendering to the wind. It feels less like a museum, more like a working landscape that happens to have visitors.

Walking into a transhumance textbook

The best way to understand Babia is on foot. From the last houses of Cabrillanes a marked footpath heads south-west, following stone channels that once fed meadow irrigation. After 90 minutes you reach the braña of La Cuesta: a cluster of dry-stone huts, milking pens and walled folds where shepherds spent June to September. The huts are empty now, but hay still sits in lofts and the spring holds drinkable water. Add another hour and the trail tops the Puerto de La Mesa (1,750 m), an ancient drove-road into Asturias; on a clear day you can see the steel-grey massif of Somiedo and, far below, the A-66 motorway threading toward Oviedo.

Laguna de las Verdes, the area’s most photographed spot, demands more commitment. Park at the lunar-like plateau of La Pornacal (1,650 m) and allow 2 h 30 min uphill on a rough miners’ track. The lake is tiny—barely 200 m across—but sits in a glacial cirque surrounded by 2,100 m peaks where Spanish ibex pick across ledges. Weather swings fast; even in July a fleece and waterproof are sensible. If the cloud drops, turn back: the path is marked by cairns that disappear in fog.

Snow, skis and silence

San Isidro ski station lies 40 min away by car, but Cabrillanes itself becomes a Nordic circuit once snow depth passes 20 cm. The forestry commission grooms a 12 km loop along the valley floor, free to use and usually empty mid-week. Bring your own kit—there is no hire shop. For downhill, San Isidro offers 30 km of pistes, mostly red and blue, plus a reliable snow record thanks to the 2,000 m ridge that blocks Atlantic storms. Lift passes are €39 for the day, a third less than the Pyrenees, and weekday queues rarely exceed five minutes.

Driving here in winter is not for the nervous. The CL-626 is kept open, but snowplough priority goes to milk lorries. Chains are compulsory from November to April; without them the Guardia Civil will wave you back down the mountain. Temperatures of –15 °C are routine, so pack jump leads and a sleeping bag even for a day trip.

What you’ll eat and where you’ll sleep

Meals are meat-heavy and designed for people who have spent the morning on a hillside. In Cabrillanes itself, Restaurante Anita opens Friday to Sunday and does a grilled T-bone (chuletón) for two at €36, served with chips, roast peppers and a bottle of local red. Weekdays you eat in Piedrafita, 8 km down-valley, where the hotel bar dishes up a three-course menú del día for €14; chips accompany everything, including the soup, so fussy children are quietly accommodated. Cheese lovers should ask for queso de Valdeón—a blue made in neighbouring Posada de Valdeón—though the waiter will warn you it is “stronger than Stilton”. Order semi-curado if you prefer cheddar-level bite.

Accommodation is limited. The Piedrafita hotel has 14 rooms, heating that actually works and a bar that stays open until the last customer leaves (usually before 23:00). British-run Hotel La Corte de Somiedo lies ten minutes away in Pola de Somiedo and offers English-speaking hosts, proper coffee and walking notes printed on A4. If you want self-catering, Apartamentos Montegrande in La Plaza village have kitchens, Wi-Fi and a communal drying room for boots—vital after a wet day on the hill.

The quiet downsides

Cabrillanes will not suit everyone. Phone coverage is patchy, the sole cash machine is in Villablino 30 km away, and the nearest hospital is an hour’s drive. Rain is possible any day of the year; when it arrives the valley closes in, roads empty and you will hear only the river and the cows. Some visitors find this magical, others call it “the Scottish Highlands without the whisky”.

Crowds are almost non-existent outside August and the October fungus weekends, but that also means limited services. If the Día is shut you are down to tinned tuna and the bar’s crisps. Spontaneous travellers should stock up in Villablino before the climb.

How to arrive—and when

Fly to Oviedo (Asturias) or Valladolid; both airports have hire-car desks. From Asturias take the A-66 south for 55 min, exit at La Magdalena and follow the CL-626 for 24 km. The final stretch is a mountain road with 12 % gradients—keep third gear and ignore the queue of local 4x4s on your bumper. Public transport stops at Villablino; a taxi from there costs €45 if you can persuade one to make the return journey.

Spring (late May–June) brings calf-high meadows and lingering snow on the high ridges. Autumn (mid-September–October) delivers beech woods the colour of burnt toast and the chance to join villagers hunting boletus mushrooms. July and August are warm enough for short sleeves at midday but nights still drop to 8 °C—pack a down jacket. Winter is magnificent if you enjoy empty trails and can handle ice on the pavements; otherwise wait for the thaw.

Leave the village as you found it: no souvenirs to buy, no fridge magnets, just the sound of water and the knowledge that somewhere in Europe life still follows the cows, not the clock.