Navas de Riofrío

The palace appears first through the pines: a neat ochre façade with the Bourbon coat of arms, its windows shuttered against the Castilian sun. Behind it, the Sierra de Guadarrama keeps watch, snow-dusted well into April. This is Navas de Riofrío, 11 kilometres south-east of Segovia, and the hunting lodge you’re looking at is quieter than any royal site has a right to be. On an ordinary Tuesday in May you can park opposite the gates, pay €5 (free if you carry an EU passport), and wander round rooms where Ferdinand VI once planned the reform of Spain’s army while his court picnicked under cedar trees that still cast shade.

Stone, adobe and the smell of resin

The village itself sits a kilometre further along the SG-V-7210, a single-lane road that feels like a farm track until Google Maps swears you’re on it. At 1,100 metres the air is thinner than on the Meseta; even in August nights drop to 14 °C, so locals keep cardigans on the backs of chairs. Houses are built from whatever the ground offered: granite for the corners, adobe for the infill, red Arab tiles that curl like dried leaves. Corredores—covered wooden balconies—project over the lane, useful for watching the weekly fruit lorry or the mushroom hunters who parade at dawn with wicker baskets and knives the size of machetes.

There is no centre as such, just a widening where the church, the chemist and Casa Poli compete for space. Order a cortado inside the bar and the owner, Miguel, will slide an English menu across the counter “only if you insist”. The terrace faces south; swallows use the telegraph wire as a runway and the mountains provide a backdrop so consistent it ends up on every photograph by accident.

Walks that begin at the last streetlamp

Navas de Riofrío is the sort of place where footpaths start at the tarmac’s edge. Follow the green-and-white waymarks past the cemetery and you’re suddenly inside a stone-pine plantation whose floor is carpeted with needles. The GR-10 long-distance trail passes through, so you can turn right for La Granja (14 km, mostly downhill) or left for the Puerto de Navacerrada if you fancy a 25-km haul across the crest. Mountain-bikers prefer the forest tracks: wide, empty, and graded just enough to let gravity do the work on the return leg. Whichever direction you choose, keep an eye out for roe deer; they graze at dawn and again at dusk, unconcerned by humans who smell of suncream.

October is mushroom season. níscalos (saffron milk-caps) hide under the pine litter and locals guard their patches with the same jealousy Suffolk anglers reserve for carp lakes. Picking is legal for personal use, but you’ll need a permit to sell, and the Guardia Civil do patrol. If you’re unsure, stick to photographing and buy yours from the Saturday market in Segovia instead.

A palace that prefers silence

Palacio Real de Riofrío was finished in 1752 as a bolt-hole for the widowed Queen Barbara de Braganza. The architect, Virgilio Rabaglio, gave it an Italianate roofline and enough bedrooms for an entire court, then watched everyone decamp to Aranjuez when the queen died of tuberculosis three years later. What remains is a frozen hunting lodge: Flemish tapestries showing elk, a museum of 19th-century taxidermy that will delight or horrify depending on your view of glass-eyed boar, and a chapel whose acoustics turn a whisper into cathedral reverb.

British visitors tend to head straight for the gardens. There is no café, so bring a picnic—cheese from La Granja, bread from the cooperative bakery in Zamarramala—and spread a rug under the cedars. Red squirrels are bolder here than in the New Forest; they’ll investigate your rucksack if you leave it unzipped. Behind the palace a 2-kilometre nature trail loops through oak scrub where nightingales practise scales in May and June. Entry tickets are timed on the hour; arrive five minutes early or you’ll wait sixty.

Roast lamb and the half-ración trick

Segovia’s culinary fame rests on cochinillo, the roast suckling pig that shatters under a spoon. In Navas de Riofrío the same dish appears, but portions are negotiable. At Asador David Guijarro in neighbouring La Losa you can order media ración—roughly a quarter pig—if you telephone ahead. The meat arrives with a rim of crackling so thin it looks like antique glass, and the waiter will demonstrate the spoon trick only if you ask nicely. Vegetarians do less well: expect roasted piquillo peppers and a tomato salad that tastes of actual tomatoes, but little else.

Back in the village El Fogón de Valentina grills steaks over holm-oak embers. The menu is written on a blackboard and changes according to what the owner’s brother brings from his farm near Cuéllar. A 400-g bife de chorizo costs €18 and feeds two if you add potatoes roasted in pork fat. House red is a Ribera del Duero that costs €12 a bottle—cheaper than the water at Madrid airport.

When to come, and when to stay away

Spring is the sweet spot: daylight from 07:30 to 21:00, wild thyme scenting the paths, and the palace open daily except Monday. Accommodation is limited to four rural houses booked through the tourist office in Segovia; they start at €90 a night for two, with fireplaces that still get used in June. Reserve early for the last weekend in May when Navas holds its fiesta menor: the population triples, the village square becomes a dance floor, and someone’s uncle drives a tractor laden with beer barrels through streets barely wider than the tyres.

August brings Madrid families fleeing the capital’s 38 °C oven. Temperatures here hover around 28 °C by day, but the pine woods act as air-conditioning and every house has a hammock strung in the shade. The downside is noise: quad bikes on the forest tracks, barking dogs at siesta time, and a queue for the one cash machine in El Espinar ten minutes away.

Winter is stark but beautiful. Expect frost at 3 p.m. and the possibility of snow closing the SG-V-7210 for half a day. The palace shortens its hours to 10:00-14:30, and most restaurants switch to weekend-only opening. Bring chains or fit winter tyres—the Guardia Civil turn cars back at the first flake.

Getting here without the grief

Public transport stops at the edge of Segovia’s industrial estate. From Madrid take the high-speed train to Segovia-Guiomar (28 minutes), collect a hire car, and drive 20 minutes east. A taxi will cost €20 each way but drivers rarely know the palace gates; agree “entrada principal del Palacio de Riofrío” before you set off. If you must visit on a Monday, console yourself with La Granja’s gardens instead—fountains play on the hour and the ice-cream parlour beside the parador does a decent gin-and-tonic sorbet.

Leave before dusk and you’ll see the mountains bruise to violet while storks drift overhead, heading for nests balanced on every available church tower. It’s the sort of light that makes you understand why Castile’s kings kept a lodge up here, and why—if you’re not careful—you’ll end up plotting your own return before you’ve reached the motorway.