Trescasas

The church bells strike seven at 1,128 metres above sea level, and Trescasas wakes up properly. Not with the lazy yawning of a resort town, but with the purposeful clatter of shutters opening, dogs being let out, and the bakery on Calle Real firing up ovens that have been going since 1946. This is Monday morning in a village where people still commute to Segovia for work, where the altitude means winter frost creeps across windscreens even in April, and where the Sierra de Guadarrama feels close enough to touch from certain street corners.

The Village That Didn't Become a Suburb

Ten kilometres separates Trescasas from Segovia's Roman aqueduct, yet the village resisted becoming another dormitory settlement. Walk the grid of stone houses built to withstand mountain winters and you'll spot the difference: elderly men still wear berets without irony, the primary school has more pupils than you'd expect, and the municipal noticeboard advertises everything from tractor parts to Spanish guitar lessons. Population hovers around 5,000, swollen in August when families return for fiestas and thinned during winter when the altitude bites hardest.

The architecture tells its own story. Houses stand shoulder-to-shoulder, sharing walls to conserve heat, their stone facades weathered to a uniform grey-brown that photographers find frustratingly difficult to capture. Wooden balconies painted government-issue green jut out above narrow pavements. Doorways show wear patterns from centuries of boots scraping snow and mud. Nothing here was designed for tourists, which paradoxically makes the place work for anyone seeking breathing space rather than programmed entertainment.

Walking Into the Pine Silence

Three distinct footpaths start from the village proper, marked with the yellow and white stripes of the Spanish footpath network. The shortest, a 45-minute loop through Pinar de la Dehesa, suits morning constitutionals. Locals walk it with phones pressed to ears, conducting business while climbing gently through pine plantations where wild boar root around at dusk. The longest route, properly kitted out with walking boots and water, connects Trescasas to the abandoned village of Revenga three hours away across the valley. Spring brings wild asparagus along the verges, autumn delivers blackberries and the sharp smell of pine needles warming in unexpected sunshine.

Mountain bikers find their playground here too. Forest tracks heading north towards the Puerto de Navacerrada offer climbs that punish thighs unused to altitude, followed by descents where speed builds quickly on gravel surfaces. The GR-10 long-distance path passes nearby, threading through 1,200 kilometres of Spanish countryside from Lisbon to Valencia. Day hikers dip in and out, following waymarks for an hour or committing to full-day expeditions across the sierra's granite backbone.

Food Without the Theatre

Restaurant choices remain stubbornly local. Asador David Guijarro occupies a modern building on the main road, its interior all exposed brick and serious wine glasses. They specialise in lechazo, milk-fed lamb roasted in wood-fired ovens until the skin crackles like pork crackling. A quarter portion feeds two hungry walkers; ordering half a lamb requires serious commitment and possibly a prior fast. La Ermita, up towards the church, occupies what was once the priest's house. Their menu del día runs €12 during week, €15 weekends, featuring judiones de la Granja - butter beans the size of conkers swimming with morcilla and chorizo in broth that tastes of smoked paprika and mountain herbs.

For lighter grazing, Bar El Tío Honorio opens early for workers needing coffee and tostada before driving to Segovia. They keep three types of tortilla on the counter: classic potato, onion version, and one with spinach that disappears quickly during school run time. Evening tapas might include pimientos de Padrón, those Russian roulette peppers where one in ten burns your mouth properly, or montaditos of local cheese drizzled with honey from hives kept in the pine forests above the village.

When the Weather Decides Your Plans

Winter arrives abruptly at this altitude. November can bring snow that lingers for weeks, transforming the village into somewhere that looks like it belongs in the Pyrenees rather than an hour from Madrid. Roads stay open - the N-603 passes below the village - but the track to higher walking routes becomes impassable without four-wheel drive. January temperatures drop to minus eight regularly; houses burn through olive wood in cast-iron stoves that double as heating and cooking during power cuts that locals accept with shrugging resignation.

Summer delivers compensation. While Madrid swelters through 40-degree heat, Trescasas sits in relative comfort. Evenings require jackets, mornings start fresh enough to make coffee taste better. August fiestas stretch over three days, culminating in the strange spectacle of residents competing to climb a greased pole for legs of jamón. The village population quadruples as diaspora families return, sleeping ten to houses designed for four, parking cars wherever space appears. Book accommodation months ahead or resign yourself to day visits from Segovia.

Practical Realities for the Curious

Getting here without a car means taking the 141 bus from Segovia's Estación de Autobuses. Service runs five times daily except Sundays when it drops to three. Journey time: twenty minutes, fare €1.65. The bus stops outside the Bar Los Pintos, conveniently positioned for immediate refreshment. Hiring cars in Segovia costs from €35 daily; driving takes twelve minutes via the SG-600 mountain road that delivers proper views of the aqueduct from the Mirador de la Pradera de San Marcos.

Accommodation options remain limited, deliberately so. The village supports two small hostales: Hostal Rural El Espinar with eight rooms overlooking the pine forest, and Hostal El Caserón occupying a converted stone farmhouse on the outskirts. Both fill quickly during October's mushroom season and any Spanish public holiday. Prices run €45-65 nightly including breakfast of strong coffee and tostada rubbed with tomato and garlic. Booking directly saves commission but requires Spanish language confidence; email responses arrive slowly if at all.

The honest assessment? Trescasas works brilliantly as a base for mountain activities or as an antidote to Spain's costa overload, but it's not maintaining some rural museum for urban entertainment. Come prepared for early closing times, limited mobile coverage in certain streets, and restaurants that might shut without warning if the owner's mother goes into hospital. The village rewards flexible travellers who understand that real places have real problems, alongside genuine community spirit that no tourist board can manufacture.