Trazo

The church bells of Santa María strike noon across scattered hamlets, their sound carrying further than you'd expect at 400 metres above sea level. Down in Santiago de Compostela, 25 kilometres away, tour groups queue for cathedral tickets. Up here in Trazo, nobody queues for anything. The only traffic jam involves a tractor and three chickens crossing the road to Porzomillos.

This is interior Galicia at its most practical. No grand plazas or medieval quarters await discovery. Instead, Trazo spreads itself across 136 square kilometres of granite houses, smallholdings and mixed woodland, served by winding country roads that Google Maps occasionally forgets exist. The municipality's 5,000 residents live in parish clusters—Trazo itself, Luou, Vilasuso, Porzomillos—where neighbours still count distance in walking time rather than kilometres.

Walking Through Living Landscape

The altitude makes itself known in subtle ways. Morning mist lingers longer than coastal Galicia, burning off by eleven to reveal rolling countryside that never quite commits to being mountain or valley. Oak and chestnut woodlands punctuate commercial eucalyptus plantations, creating a patchwork that's neither wilderness nor farmland but something uniquely Galician. Temperatures run several degrees cooler than Santiago year-round—welcome relief in August, brisk enough for proper coats in January.

Walking tracks connect parishes via traditional stone paths and forestry roads. These aren't signposted routes with gift shops at either end. They're working paths where locals fetch firewood, walk dogs and visit relatives. The circuit from Santa María church through Luou's chapel and back via Vilasuso covers six gentle kilometres, passing cruceiros (stone crosses), hórreos (raised granaries) and springs where water runs cold enough to numb your fingers even in July. No entrance fees, no opening hours, just the understanding that you'll step aside for passing vehicles and close gates behind you.

Winter brings its own access considerations. At 400 metres, Trazo catches proper frost and occasional snow. Roads to outlying hamlets can ice over, making that hire car's summer tyres distinctly inappropriate. Spring arrives late—chestnut buds typically burst mid-April, a full month behind the coast. Autumn, however, stretches into November, with clear days offering views across miles of russet woodland and the distant Atlantic glinting on the horizon.

What Actually Passes for Sights

Santa María de Trazo sits at the municipality's functional heart, a 19th-century parish church built from local granite that matches the surrounding houses so perfectly it almost disappears. Inside, the atmosphere speaks more to Sunday services and funeral wakes than tourist visits. Sunday mass at noon still draws regular congregations—outsiders welcome if appropriately dressed and prepared to follow Galician responses.

The smaller chapels scattered across parishes tell more personal stories. Capela de San Roque in Porzomillos, built during a 19th-century cholera outbreak, stands beside a spring whose water locals still consider medicinal. Capela da Magdalena in Luou serves a hamlet of forty souls, its doors typically locked but its tiny cemetery meticulously maintained. These aren't architectural gems—they're functional buildings that happen to be old, maintained through community effort rather than heritage grants.

Hórreos appear wherever houses cluster. These raised granaries, built from granite or wood on staddle stones, once stored grain safe from rodents. Most stand empty now, repurposed as garden sheds or left as landscape features. The best examples line the road through Vilasuso—sixteen structures varying from elaborate two-storey examples to simple stone boxes, photographed by passing cyclists but used by locals for storing potatoes and garden tools.

Eating and Sleeping in Reality Territory

Trazo's culinary scene runs to three café-bars in the main village, all serving the same basic menu: coffee, beer, tortilla, the occasional menú del día. None accept cards. Opening hours follow Spanish rural logic—if the door's open, they're serving; if not, they're probably at their sister's communion in the next village. The closest supermarket sits five kilometres away in Ordes, stocking everything from fresh bread to tractor parts.

Accommodation comes in country house form. Casa Rosinda offers three bedrooms in a converted farmhouse, complete with wood-burning stove and views across eucalyptus plantations to the Montes do Invernadoiro beyond. Casa da Escola occupies a former village school, its playground now a herb garden where guests pick bay leaves for evening stews. Both run around €60-80 per night including breakfast—Galician cheese, local honey, bread from Ordes' bakery. Book ahead; there aren't many alternatives within twenty kilometres.

Practical Hazards of the Peaceful Life

The dispersed settlement pattern means everything requires driving. The parish of Luou sits eight kilometres from Trazo village along roads narrow enough to make passing tractors interesting. GPS occasionally suggests "shortcuts" that turn into forestry tracks suitable only for 4x4s and local knowledge. When in doubt, follow the road signs—even if they take longer, they'll get you there without bottoming out the rental car.

Mobile coverage varies by parish and weather. Vodafone works reliably in Trazo village, Orange less so. Head into the woods and all bets are off. Download offline maps before setting out, and don't rely on summoning taxis from remote locations. Speaking of taxis, Santiago's rank will dispatch cars but you'll pay €35-40 for the privilege—each way.

Sunday mornings bring their own complications. Church services fill village centres with parked cars blocking narrow streets. Tractors appear without warning around blind bends. The local funeral director knows every driver by name—when you see his hearse approaching, pull over immediately. Galician funeral processions don't wait for tourists adjusting camera settings.

Using Trazo Properly

This municipality works best as a counterpoint to Santiago's medieval grandeur. Spend two days exploring cathedral vaults and tapas bars, then escape here for walking tracks where the loudest sound might be a wood pigeon or distant chainsaw. Base yourself in Trazo village, drive to different parishes for gentle walks, return to silence and star-filled skies unspoiled by street lighting.

Come prepared for the reality of modern rural life. Those perfect woodland paths occasionally pass abandoned fridges or run alongside concrete agricultural buildings. Eucalyptus plantations, controversial but economically vital, replace native forest in places. Plastic wrapping from silage bales catches on barbed wire fences. This isn't wilderness—it's countryside where people live and work, sometimes untidily.

The reward lies in experiencing a Galicia that most coastal visitors never encounter. Morning coffee tastes better when you've watched the baker deliver bread still warm from Ordes' ovens. Church bells mean more when you've walked past the houses whose families they summon. And those country tracks reveal their secrets slowly—today a new-born foal in a field, tomorrow mushrooms appearing where yesterday there were none, next week the first almond blossom promising spring at altitude.

Just remember to close the gate behind you.