Benuza

The chestnut trees above Lomba village turn bronze by mid-October, their leaves drifting onto stone roofs that have weathered eight centuries of mountain rain. At 790 metres, Benuza sits high enough for the air to carry a bite even when León’s plain swelters 90 kilometres eastwards. This scatter of hamlets—Lomba, Silván, Yebra, Santalavilla—was never designed for passing trade. Houses shoulder right up to the single-track road; a tractor squeezing past forces walkers into the drainage ditch. That’s the point. Benuza functions, stubbornly, as it always has.

Stone, Slate and Stillness

Traditional pizarra roofs pitch at forty-five degrees, the angle needed to shrug off snow that can lie from November until March. Walls are built from granite quarried on site; mortar is little more than local clay. The result is a palette of greys that photographs flat in bright sun but glows after rain, when every colour in the hillside—ochre lichen, rust-red iron ore, the acid green of moss—intensifies against the stone. Look closer and you’ll spot carpenters’ marks on granary stilts, Roman numerals that helped neighbours re-assemble the hórreo after moving it from dowry to dowry. No interpretation boards explain this; the marks are simply there, waist-high, waiting for anyone who stops.

The villages string along eight kilometres of minor road. Walking between them takes longer than the odometer suggests because the tarmac rises and falls like a slow heartbeat. Silván’s houses still have the original wooden balconies—narrow, unglamorous platforms where onions dry and dogs sleep. In Yebra, the village fountain runs constantly; residents fill plastic jugs rather than rely on mains supply that tastes of chlorine. It’s potable, but ask first. “Agua buena,” they’ll say, “del manantial real.” The spring has never failed, even in the drought of 2017 when cattle died on the Meseta.

Paths That Remember

Footpaths radiate from Lomba like spokes, waymarked by a local association whose paint flashes last three winters at best. The circuit to Santalavilla climbs 250 metres through sweet-chestnut coppice, then drops into a hanging valley where stone terraces once grew rye. Farmers abandoned the plots in the 1960s; dry-stone walls now harbour ortolan buntings and the occasional wild boar. Allow two hours, carry water, and download the GPS track before leaving—signage ends at the municipal boundary.

Longer routes follow drove roads south towards the Sierra de los Ancares. Multi-day hikers can link Benuza with Balouta and Vega de Valcarce, but that requires arranging a key pick-up; there is no bus back. Mountain-bikers use the same trails, though after heavy rain the clay surface cakes tyres until pedalling becomes impossible. October is ideal: firm ground, empty paths, and the chestnut harvest in full swing.

Autumn’s Other Currency

Castañas are not a tourist show. Families own specific trees, inheriting rights along with the fields. Permission matters: slipping a pocketknife under the spiky husk without asking is theft, plain and simple. Polite visitors offer to help rake; in return you might leave with a kilo of glossy nuts and instructions to slit the skins before roasting. Sunday markets in nearby La Bañez sell them already par-roasted at €4 a bag, cheaper than any city stall. The same vendors deal in local honey—dark, heather-scented—and morcilla that crumbles when fried. Vegetarians struggle; even the vegetable stew uses pork fat for depth.

Botillo, the region’s emblematic stuffed pork, appears only in winter. Restaurants need 24 hours’ notice; the nearest reliable kitchen is Casa Marta in Carracedelo, 35 minutes by car. Expect €18 for a portion that feeds two, accompanied by cachelos (boiled potatoes) and a quarter-litre of young mencía wine. Driving back after lunch is legal but unwise—Guardia Civil set up alcohol controls on the LU-711 most Saturdays.

Getting There, Staying Put

Public transport stops at La Bañez, 19 kilometres downhill. ALSA runs one daily coach from León railway station; the journey takes 75 minutes and costs €7.38. From La Bañez, Monday-to-Friday school transport reaches Lomba at 14:00, returning at 07:00 next day. Miss it and a taxi costs €30—if you can persuade the sole driver to make the trip. Car hire is simpler: León airport (90 minutes on the A-6 and A-231) has competitive weekend rates with Goldcar, but fill the tank at the city outskirts; village petrol stations close at 20:00 and may not accept foreign cards.

Accommodation totals fewer than 30 beds. Casa Rural Pico del Lugar has four doubles and a small pool fed by mountain runoff; week-night price in shoulder season is €70 including breakfast. The owners keep sheepdogs that bark at 5 a.m. when the flock moves—earplugs recommended. Airbnb lists one ground-floor flat in Lomba’s centre: thick walls, no central heating, and a Wi-Fi signal that collapses whenever it rains. Bring slippers; stone floors are cold even in May.

What the Weather Actually Does

Elevation moderates summer heat—daytime peaks of 28 °C rather than the 35 °C blistering the Duero valley—but nights drop to 12 °C. A fleece is sensible year-round. Winter brings snow on a dozen days; the access road is cleared by 10 a.m. unless the wind drifts banks back across the tarmac. February sunshine can feel T-shirt warm on south-facing walls, yet shade retains knife-edge cold. Spring arrives late: elderflowers open mid-May, a month behind the coast. September is the most stable month, though Atlantic fronts sweep in without warning; always pack a waterproof.

The Quiet Bill

Evenings end early. Bar La Muralla shuts when the last customer leaves—often before 22:00. Mobile coverage is patchy; Vodafone works on the upper village street, Orange only by the church door. Power cuts reset routers, so download offline maps. None of this counts as hardship. Benuza offers instead the minor miracle of a place that refuses to perform itself. No gift shops, no interpretive centre, no weekend crowd herded through a “medieval experience.” Just stone roofs, chestnut smoke and the sound of someone splitting logs for winter while the light fades over Galicia’s hills.