Becedas

The chestnut trees arrive before the village does. Driving the AV-603 from Ávila, you wind through kilometre after kilometre of castañar—ancient sweet chestnut forests that have sustained Becedas since long before its stone houses were stacked against the mountainside. At 1,050 metres above sea level, this is proper hill country: winter brings snow that can cut the single access road, while summer nights drop to 14 °C, a blessed relief after Madrid's furnace.

Becedas proper is a grid of granite lanes barely five streets wide. Roughly 150 people live here year-round, though you'd be hard-pressed to spot them on a weekday afternoon. Shutters stay closed against the sun; the only sound is the village stork clacking from its nest atop the sixteenth-century church tower. Population decline has left a surplus of stone houses—some restored as weekend cottages, others quietly returning to rubble. The effect is neither abandoned nor manicured: it's a place that feels lived-in without trying to impress.

Stone, Wood and the Memory of Transhumance

Local builders knew what they were doing. Houses are squat, walls a metre thick, roofs weighted with slabs of local slate. Wooden balconies run the length of upper floors—practical drying racks for chestnuts, maize and washing rather than postcard decoration. Granite troughs built into walls once watered sheep driven up from Extremadura on the cañadas reales, the drove-roads that still braid the surrounding hills. You can follow one of these routes eastwards to the abandoned hamlet of El Cabaco, a three-hour round walk that passes charcoal-making platforms last used in the 1950s.

Inside the church, retablos gilded by craftsmen from nearby Béjar share space with plastic-sealed notices thanking the faithful for "no hablar a gritos" during mass. Services happen twice a month; the rest of the time the building stays unlocked, light filtering onto pews polished by centuries of heavy coats. Look for the tiny balcony high on the north wall—accessed by a ladder, it was built so travelling priests could preach without descending into winter mud.

Walking Among Giants

The chestnut forests are the real monument here. Some trees predate the discovery of the Americas, their trunks so broad three adults can't link hands around them. Autumn is the money season: locals fan out with wicker baskets to gather castañas, and the air smells of wood smoke and roasting nuts. A simple trail—unmarked but obvious—leaves from the upper end of Calle Real and zig-zags for 4 km through the biggest specimens, emerging onto a granite slab that gives views west towards the Gredos peaks. After rain the path turns slick with leaves and chestnut cases like spiky green sea-urchins; decent boots are non-negotiable.

Spring brings a different palette: wild narcissus and deep-purple orchids among last year's leaves. Temperatures hover around 18 °C—perfect for longer circuits. One 12 km loop climbs to the Puerto de Chía (1,450 m) before dropping into the Tormes valley, where you can splash across the river and return via the drove-road. The village tourist office (open mornings only, closed Tuesday) will lend a basic map, but phone ahead—staffing is voluntary and the lone key-holder might be out with his goats.

What You'll Eat (and Where)

There is no restaurant row. Bar Canarias, halfway along the main street, opens at 08:00 for coffee and churros and stays serving until the last customer leaves—often well before midnight. Expect judiones (buttery white beans) stewed with morcilla, or a plate of patatas meneás—potatoes crushed with paprika and pork fat. A three-course menú del día costs €12 midweek; weekends add roast kid for €16. Vegetarians get eggs, cheese and little else. House wine comes from nearby Barco de Ávila and tastes better than the price suggests.

Self-caterers should shop before arrival. Becedas has a single grocery that stocks UHT milk, tinned tuna and not much else. On Fridays a van sells bread and pastries from 11:00 by the church; locals queue early. If your rental has a fireplace, buy a sack of chestnuts (€3 for 2 kg from most doorsteps in October) and roast them with a dash of coarse salt—simple, smoky and absurdly moreish.

Beds for the Night

Accommodation is scarce but improving. Casa Rural Fuentecillas, at the village edge, offers four doubles around a stone patio with plunge pool and views across the valley. Host Fuensanta keeps chickens that provide breakfast eggs; she'll also lend walking poles and advise which paths are muddy. Expect to pay €90 for the room, another €12 if you want dinner—roast lamb or chestnut soup depending on season. Cheaper options exist in neighbouring villages, but night driving on unlit mountain roads is best avoided after a bottle of Ribera del Duero.

Getting There, Getting Out

Becedas sits 190 km west of Madrid-Barajas. The fastest route is the A-50 to Ávila, then the AV-603 north for 45 minutes of hair-pin bends. Car hire is essential: no British operator runs direct buses, and the weekday coach from Madrid to nearby Puerto Castilla connects poorly. In winter carry snow chains—guardia civil will turn you back if the road ices up. Summer visitors should fill the tank in Ávila; mountain petrol stations close for siesta and sometimes for the entire weekend.

Leave time for a detour to the Béjar textile museum, 25 minutes away, where 18th-century looms still produce the wool cloth that once lined conquistadors' coats. Closer, the spa town of Baños de Montemayor offers Roman baths redesigned in pastel tiles—perfect for easing legs after a day's hiking.

The Quiet Bill

Becedas won't entertain you. It offers instead a lesson in slow time: afternoons spent shelling chestnuts while clouds drift across the valley, evenings where darkness arrives without neon interruption. Phone signal is patchy; the nearest cash machine is 18 km away. Come prepared, treat the place gently, and you'll understand why those who do make the climb tend to keep it to themselves.