As Pontes de García Rodríguez

The first thing that throws you is the colour of the water. From the mirador above the old spoil heap it glows an improbable turquoise, as if someone had dropped a fragment of Mediterranean into the middle of a eucalyptus plantation. This is Spain’s largest artificial lake, 567 ha scooped out of a former lignite mine, and the locals still call it “the hole” even though it’s been filling up since 2008. The second surprise is the silence: no drag-lines, no conveyor belts, just the odd grebe diving and, on Sundays, the slap of trainers on the 12 km perimeter track where half the town seems to be getting its weekly 10 000 steps in.

As Pontes de García Rodríguez never set out to be picturesque. Franco’s planners picked the spot in 1957 because the valley floor sat on thick seams of brown coal, then built apartment blocks, a school and a football pitch in the shadow of the cooling towers. When the mine shut in 2007 the population had already slipped below 5 000; unemployment hovered at 20 % and the council faced a choice: let the place fester or turn the crater into an asset. The lake was their answer, and the speed of the transformation still makes guide-books look out-of-date. One decade the tourist office was handing out hard-hats for surface-mine visits; the next it was lending binoculars and PDF bird lists.

What to do with a morning

Start at the Centro de Interpretación, tucked behind the Aldi on the ring-road. The exhibition is small – plan for twenty minutes – but it sorts the chronology: coal layers, power-station expansion, EU environmental fines, restoration budget, fish stocking, kayak permit system. You’ll learn why the water looks tropical (fine suspended particles reflect short-wave light) and why the northern shore drops to 205 m barely a rope’s length from the bank. Entry is free; toilets are clean; they’ll give you a leaflet that marks the gradients on the walking loops. If you’ve got kids, accept the leaflet – what appears flat on Google Earth soon turns into thigh-burning switchbacks.

From the centre a paved lane climbs gently to the first mirador. The climb is worth it: the lake sits inside a perfect amphitheatre of terraced rock, each bench a former seam. Bring binoculars and you’ll see black-necked grebes in summer, osprey in winter, and the occasional angler in a tin boat hoping for carp or largemouth bass. (Day licences €12 from the petrol station opposite the Lidl; Friday afternoons they sell out fast.) Carry on another kilometre and you reach the picnic plateau – stone tables, steel barbecue frames, zero shade. Locals arrive at 09:00 on Saturdays to bag the best spot; by 14:00 it resembles a well-ordered campsite, complete with Bluetooth speakers and cool-boxes full of Estrella.

Back in town for lunch

The centre of As Pontes is a five-minute drive or a 25-minute downhill walk. Expect wide 1960s boulevards, functional brick, and the faint hum of the 400 kV power line that still feeds the region. The church of Santiago is open only for Saturday-evening mass, but the square outside has benches and free Wi-Fi if you need to check bus times. For food, Pulpería O Ponte does the classic Galician octopus – paprika, rock salt, olive oil – but ask for a media ración if you’re not ravenous; portions are half the size of Santiago tourist traps and arrive in under ten minutes. Café-bar O Vilar opposite will swap pulpo for a ham-and-cheese toastie that tastes reassuringly like home, only with better bread.

If you’re travelling on to the north coast, stock up now. The supermarkets on the N-651 are the last full-size shops before Ortigueira’s wild beaches 40 km away; after that it’s village minimarkets that close for siesta and charge €3 for a tin of beans.

Industrial ghosts and present-day birds

Behind the church a signed “Ruta de la Minería” loops 3 km past the old washery, now a rust-red skeleton wrapped in ivy. Interpretation boards are in Galician and English; the grammar is occasionally eccentric but the facts hold up. You’ll pass the entrance to the underground gallery – locked since 1997 – and end at the medieval bridge that gave the town its name. It’s a single stone arch, 30 m across, and looks almost toy-like after the mine infrastructure. Stand on it at dusk and you’ll hear house martins collecting mud for nests while, upstream, a cormorant dives in water that was once too acidic to support fish life.

Practical grit

As Pontes is 75 km from A Coruña airport, 55 km from Ferrol port. ALSA coaches run three times daily from A Coruña bus station (1 h 15 m, €7–€9), but Sunday services stop at 14:00. A hire car is faster: take the A-6 to Betanzos, then AG-64 and AC-141; the final 15 km twist through eucalyptus plantations where wild boar wander at dusk. Fill the tank in Betanzos – the town’s only petrol station closes at 22:00 and doesn’t open Sundays.

Weather is Atlantic, not Mediterranean. Spring and early autumn give 15–20 °C, ideal for the perimeter track. July and August can hit 32 °C, but there’s no shade on the miradores; take a hat and twice as much water as you think you need. In winter the lake traps mist: photogenic from above, eerie at water level, but paths turn slick as ice. Trainers with a tread are fine nine months of the year; after heavy rain you’ll wish you’d packed walking boots.

Where to stay – or why you might not

Accommodation is limited. The Hotel Balneario a few kilometres outside town has spa water piped from a thermal spring and weekend rates that undercut Santiago by half, but you’ll need a car. Otherwise most visitors base themselves on the coast and drop in for half a day. That approach works: the lake loop takes two hours, the mine walk another hour, lunch thirty minutes, and by mid-afternoon you can be on the beach at Pantín watching surfers dodge Atlantic rollers.

Honest verdict

As Pontes will never compete with Combarro’s granaries or Lugo’s Roman walls. Parts of the urban core remain stubbornly grey, and anyone hoping for cobbled lanes will leave disappointed. What the place does offer is a live case study in how an industrial town can redraw its own geography, and a reminder that “post-industrial” doesn’t have to mean “post-interesting.” Come for the improbable turquoise lake, stay for the birdlife, the cheap octopus and the conversation with locals who’ve watched their skyline change twice in one lifetime. Just don’t expect souvenir shops – and do bring sunscreen.