Riaza

The Saturday market in Riaza starts at eight sharp, when the temperature is still nudging zero and the stone arcades of the Plaza Mayor echo with the clack of walking poles rather than tourist heels. By half past nine the square—an elongated rectangle unique in Segovia province—fills with chimney-breast lambs, jars of raw honey and the low, rapid Castilian Spanish of neighbours negotiating the price of wild mushrooms. It feels like theatre, but it’s simply the weekly grocery run.

That mix of utility and beauty sets the tone for this 2,000-strong hill town, parked at 1,190 m on the edge of the Sierra de Ayllón. Madrid lies 100 km south-west, close enough that second-home owners drive up on Friday night yet far enough that Riaza keeps its weekday rhythms: bread vans honk at 10:00, schoolchildren sprint across the bridge over the river Aguisejo, and every bar knows whether you prefer your coffee with or without brandy.

Stone, timber and altitude

Riaza’s houses climb a south-facing ridge in uneven terraces. Granite footings support upper walls of oak lattice; newer builds use concrete but must keep the wooden balconies by local rule. The result isn’t a chocolate-box façade—some extensions are plainly 1970s—but wander five minutes up Cuesta de la Villa and you’ll find intact medieval doorways wide enough for a mule cart, the hinges still greased every autumn.

Altitude matters here. In April the surrounding fields glow emerald while Madrid swelters; by October the same pastures turn bronze and the night air smells of woodsmoke and wet slate. Pack layers even in July—sunburn at midday, fleece by ten o’clock. British skiers already know the payoff: La Pinilla sits fifteen minutes up the CL-114, its 18 pistas rarely queue outside Spanish school holidays and a day pass costs €42, roughly half the price of a Pyrenees ticket.

What to do when you’re not skiing

Snow melts fast on south-facing slopes, so March brings hikers rather than lift queues. The Hayedo de la Pedrosa beech forest, 12 km north, colours up like a New England calendar; the 6 km loop from the car park to the waterfall is gentle, but phone batteries drain quickly in the cold—download an offline map. On summer weekends the regional government limits access to 500 cars, so arrive before 09:00 or you’ll be waved back towards Riaza’s petrol station for a two-hour wait.

Ambitious walkers head for Pico del Lobo, Segovia’s roof at 2,273 m. The shortest approach starts at Puerto de la Quesera (25 km by car), a breezy 10 °C cooler than the village. The 12 km return path looks harmless on Wikiloc but the summit ridge can ice over in May; take gloves and a buff even if the car park feels balmy. Cloud builds after 14:00—photographers should aim for the morning glow on the limestone scarp.

If altitude sounds exhausting, rent a bike from the tiny shop opposite the bullring. A web of forest tracks follows old sheep trails through holm oak and pine; gradients are forgiving and you’ll meet more wild boar prints than people. The reservoir at Linares del Arroyo makes a flat 20 km out-and-back, ideal for families, though swimming is banned—the water feeds downstream villages.

Eating like you mean it

Riaza does not do small plates. Locals judge a restaurant by the thickness of the oak-fire roast lamb, and portions arrive by the quarter animal. Asador Casa José on Calle Mayor will sell a half-ration if you ask (£14); the crackling comes glass-crisp, the meat pink enough to convert the most stubborn well-done Brit. Vegetarians aren’t abandoned—setas (wild mushrooms) appear in season, sautéed with garlic and parsley—but menus are short and heavy on protein.

For pudding, ponche segoviano tastes like a boozy custard slice with a caramelised sugar lid; it travels well, so buy one boxed (£6) for the flight home. Wines stick to Ribera del Duero—expect to pay £18 for a crianza that retails in London for £28. Restaurants shut their kitchens from 16:30 sharp; arrive late and you’ll be offered crisps and little else.

Practicalities without the pain

The easiest route from the UK is fly to Madrid, hire a car, and head north on the A-1. Leave the motorway at Aranda de Duero, swing west on the N-110 and you’re in Riaza after 1 h 45 min—quicker than reaching the Cotswolds from Heathrow on a Friday. Public transport exists but tests patience: one daily bus from Madrid’s Avenida de América drops you in Segovia at 13:00; a £40 taxi finishes the 45 km leg.

Accommodation splits between stone cottages and ski apartments. A three-bedroom house on Plaza Mayor rents for £110 per night in shoulder season—half the price of similar pads in Chipping Campden. Book early for February half-term; La Pinilla fills with Madrid families and hotel stock is limited to three small posadas. Mobile coverage is reliable in the village but patchy on mountain trails; the solitary cash machine beside the town hall occasionally runs dry on Sunday night, so pocket euros before you leave Aranda.

When to come, when to stay away

May and late-September deliver 20 °C afternoons, empty paths and hotel owners with time to chat. August climbs to 30 °C but cools after sunset; bars stay open late and the village fiesta (12–17 Aug) involves costumed dancers, outdoor concerts and a surprisingly competent foam party in the square. British visitors after solitude should avoid those five days—music thumps until 04:00 and every spare room is booked.

January brings reliable snow but also weekend traffic jams up to La Pinilla. Leave the village before 08:00 or you’ll sit nose-to-tail with ski racks. April can gift powder one week and hail the next; flexible plans help.

Parting thought

Riaza won’t hand you Insta-perfect streets or boutique souvenirs. It offers instead the smell of charcoal ovens at dawn, the sight of vultures gliding over 200-metre cliffs, and the sound of a language unfiltered for tourists. If that feels like work, stay in Segovia. If it feels like Spain as you hoped it still existed, fill the tank and head uphill.