Riofrío

The beech leaves crunch like cornflakes underfoot, releasing that damp-earth scent British walkers associate more with the Chilterns than Castile. Except here, at 1,180 metres on the north slope of the Sierra de Ayllón, the air carries a sharper edge—thin, clean, and cold enough to make a Londoner's lungs protest. This is Riofrío de Riaza (never the caviar-producing namesake down south), a granite hamlet of barely two hundred souls that most visitors treat as the car park before the real show begins.

They come for La Pedrosa, the forest that turns traffic-light amber each October without fail. Spanish photographers call it "el otoño más fotogénico de España"; British bloggers prefer the understatement "rather like the New Forest, but without the ice-cream vans". Either way, the colours peak during the last week of October and the first of November—precise enough to plan annual leave around, provided you book a Madrid hire car early.

Getting There and Getting In

From Madrid-Barajas it is 135 km door-to-door: the A-1 north to Aranda de Duero, then the N-110 through the caramel-coloured cereal plains of Segovia province. The final six kilometres switch from tarmac to single-track concrete, just wide enough for a Fiat 500 to pass a tractor if both breathe in. Google Maps will try to shave ten minutes off the journey by routing you down an unmade farm lane—ignore it unless you fancy bottoming out on a cattle grid. Phone signal dies at the same moment the beech canopy closes overhead; download an offline map before you leave the ring road.

There is no ticket booth, no shuttle, no timed entry. Park on the rough grass where the track ends (capacity: thirty cars, forty if everyone is polite) and start walking. Arrive before ten and you will share the path only with red squirrels and the occasional German with a tripod. By half-eleven Spanish families pour out of people-carriers, carrying Tupperware and portable speakers—still quiet by Peak District standards, but the spell is broken.

The Walk and What You Will See

A circular route of 7 km, way-marked with faded green paint, loops through the best colour. The gradient is gentle—200 m of ascent spread over three kilometres—so even walkers whose boots still smell of Cotswold Outdoor will manage without puffing. Halfway round, a clearing gives a sudden, cinematic view south across the Amblés Valley: wheat stubble and olive drab holm oaks rolling away to the granite crest of the Sierra de Ávila. It is the sort of panorama that makes you stop mid-sentence, mainly because the wind has stolen your breath.

Birders should bring binoculars: goshawks and red kites ride the thermals above the ridge, while firecrests flick through the lower branches like living ping-pong balls. If you are very lucky you will hear a black woodpecker—their mechanical cackle carries for kilometres on still mornings.

Back in the Village

Riofrío itself is not picturesque in the chocolate-box sense. Low houses roofed with corrugated tin sit behind granite walls the colour of week-old snow. A couple of streets converge on the sixteenth-century church, whose bell still tolls the Angelus at noon, startling pigeons into spirals. The only bar, La Posada de El Cerro, opens at nine for coffee and serves lunch until four. Their sopa de ajo—garlic broth thickened with bread and egg—costs €5 and arrives scalding. Ask for the vegetarian version and they simply leave out the scraps of Serrano that usually float on top. House red from nearby Cebreros is light enough to drink with lunch and still tackle the forest afterwards.

Do not expect craft boutiques or even a cash machine. The village shop doubles as the post office and closes between two and five; contactless payments work only when the owner remembers to top up the data bundle on his card reader. If you need diesel, fill up in Riaza, 12 km back down the hill, or risk the solitary pump at the agricultural co-op—bring cash and patience, in that order.

Where to Lay Your Head

Riofrío has two rental cottages, both refurbished stone barns with wood-burners and views across cabbage patches. They sleep four and six respectively, cost €90–120 a night in autumn, and are booked solid from mid-October to early November. Otherwise, stay in Riaza or Covarrubias and drive up for the day. Either option beats the provincial capital: Ávila’s hotels are 35 minutes away but sit 300 m lower, which can mean the difference between frost and fog when you are trying to photograph golden beech leaves at dawn.

Seasons Other Than Autumn

Spring arrives late; night frosts linger until mid-May and the trees do not leaf fully until early June. April, however, brings sheets of wild tulips and the improbable sight of hoopoes strutting across ploughed fields like exotic chess pieces. Summer is hot in the valley but breezy under the canopy—perfect for escaping Madrid’s 40 °C concrete. Winter is serious: the road up to La Pedrosa is rarely cleared of snow, and the forest becomes a monochrome cathedral of charcoal trunks. Bring micro-spikes if you insist on a December visit; the granite boulders ice over quickly.

What It Costs

A full day out—hire car from Madrid, coffee, soup, bread and wine, plus forest access (free)—runs to about €70 for two people. Add another €25 if you succumb to the vacuum-packed judiones (giant butter beans) sold from a chest freezer in the bar. Accommodation is the only real variable: last-minute October cottages can spike to €200 on Airbnb, while weekday spring rooms in Riaza drop to €45.

The Honest Verdict

Riofrío will not change your life. It is a small, working village that happens to sit beside one of Spain’s most reliable autumn forests. Come for the copper beech photos, stay for the silence once the day-trippers leave, and leave before you need a haircut or a bank. If that sounds like enough, book early; if you need souvenir tea-towels and interpretive trails, stick to the New Forest.