Chodos/Xodos

The road to Xodos climbs so steeply that even the almond trees give up halfway. Oaks replace them, then pines, and by the time the tarmac levels out the air smells of resin and cold stone. At 1,063 m you are higher than Ben Nevis, yet only 50 km from the orange-scented coast at Castellón. That shock of altitude is the first thing the village gives you; the second is the view south across El Maestrat, a roll-call of limestone ridges fading to violet as the sun drops.

A village that still keeps mountain time

Xodos (Valencian spelling; Castilian maps still print Chodos) counts barely 117 registered souls. Many houses are weekend projects – roofs re-tiled, wood-smoke drifting from chimneys on Friday night – but enough neighbours stay year-round to keep the bakery oven lit and the bar heaters humming. Morning business is done by ten: bread, gossip, a quick glance at the weather app because up here a forecast of “sunny” down on the coast can mean fog, wind or even a late-season dusting of snow.

The centre is a triangle of alleles no wider than a Land Rover. Stone walls bulge, wooden balconies sag, yet the place feels lived-in, not museum-sweet. Elderly men in flat caps still carry kindling on mules; younger arrivals from Valencia arrive with mountain bikes strapped to hatchbacks. Both groups converge on Bar-Restaurante Porcar when the church bell strikes two. A media ración of olleta – a thick pork-and-bean stew – costs €7 and arrives at the table still bubbling. Order bread to mop the pot; local etiquette says leaving broth is bad luck.

Walking tracks, not gift shops

Tourism here is a side-hustle, not the main crop. Way-marked paths strike out from the upper car park (follow signs to Aparcament past the church) into pine and kermes oak. The easiest is the 4 km loop to Font del Recuenco, a dependable spring where shepherds once watered flocks; allow 90 min with photo stops. Serious walkers use Xodos as a launch pad for Penyagolosa, the 1,813 m summit Valencians call their “Everest”. The standard southern route starts 10 km down the CV-171 at Sant Joan de Penyagolosa hermitage – a 35-min drive on a road that already feels like a goat track – then climbs 800 m through holly and scree. In May the slope is streaked yellow with Digitalis; in January it can be white with snow, so carry micro-spikes.

A shorter, stiffer option leaves the village itself. Follow the GR-33 waymarks east along the ridge to Nevera de Xodos, an 18th-century ice house carved into the rock. Ice blocks were hauled here in winter, packed with straw, then sold to coastal fishing ports in summer. The 6 km return climbs 250 m and gives eagle views over the citrus plains you left behind an hour earlier. Phone reception is patchy; download the Wikiloc file before you set off.

When to come, and when to stay away

April brings blossom on the almond terraces and the Romería de la Virgen de los Ángeles, a donkey-led pilgrimage that doubles the population for a weekend. Mid-January sees the Porrat de Sant Antoni, a bonfire-and-dance fiesta fuelled by local mistela wine; nights drop below freezing, but the square still smells of grilled sausages and rosemary smoke. August is warm (25 °C max) and mercifully free of coastal humidity; the patronal fiestas around San Bartolomé (24 Aug) are low-key – brass band, communal paella, bingo in the church porch. Avoid late October if you want blazing colour: the forests stay stubbornly green until the first frost.

Accommodation is limited to three self-catering cottages and the four-room Casa Ana above the restaurant. Expect €65 a night for two, firewood included. Breakfast is not offered; instead, wander down to the bar for café amb llet and a sticky pastisset pastry. There is no cash machine – cards are refused half the time – so bring notes. Lucena del Cid, 25 km back towards the motorway, has the nearest supermarket.

Honest plate, honest price

The menu rarely strays beyond what the land provides. Perol is a one-pot rice with rabbit and mountain rosemary, drier than paella and less oily – a half-ration is plenty after a walk. Robellón mushrooms appear in autumn, sautéed in olive oil with a whisper of garlic; they taste faintly of hazelnut and cost €5 a plate. Lamb cutlets arrive by the kilo, rubbed only with rock salt and branches of wild rosemary thrown onto the grill. Vegetarians get tombet – a layered potato, aubergine and red-pepper bake – but you need to ask; it is never listed. Wine is from nearby Atzeneta, sold in 50 cl porrons for €4; the red is young, peppery and mercifully cool after the climb.

What the brochures leave out

The mobile-phone mast planted beside the 15th-century Ermita de San Cristóbal is impossible to ignore. It blinks red at night and ruins more than one photograph; locals shrug – “we need the signal more than the view.” Winter access can close: if snow settles, the CV-171 is chained off at Les Coves de Vinromà and you are looking at a 40 km detour via Vistabella. Even in April the wind scything across the ridge can be bitter; pack a fleece whatever the coast says. And if you arrive hoping for artisan gift shops or craft beer, keep driving to Morella. Xodos sells walking, silence and a lesson in how Mediterranean life felt before the coast discovered concrete.

Leave before dusk and you will meet headlights snaking upwards – weekenders from Castellón clutching bags of city bread, ready to stoke their stoves. Stay overnight and the village belongs to you and to the owls. At 3 a.m. the Milky Way is a spilled ribbon overhead; the air is so clear you can taste meteor dust. Down on the coast the clubs are thumping, but up here the only beat is the slow thud of your own heart getting used to the height.