Pelayos de la Presa

At 570 metres above sea level, Pelayos de la Presa sits just high enough for the air to feel thinner than Madrid's oven-baked streets below. Seventy kilometres west of the capital, granite houses cluster above the San Juan reservoir like spectators at a perpetual water-sports tournament. Come Friday afternoon, the village doubles in size as madrileños unlock second homes and British families discover they've swapped Costa del Sol concrete for pine-scented slopes where storks patrol the thermals.

The Reservoir Rules Everything

The dam arrived in the 1950s, flooding the Alberche valley and gifting Madrid its largest stretch of inland beach. Summer weekends turn the eastern shore into a kilometre-long car park; arrive after 11 a.m. and you'll circle for thirty minutes before joining the dusty queue. Yet the water rewards the hassle: clean enough for carp fishing competitions, wide enough for windsurfers to crank full tilt, and dotted with stone coves where kayaks glide past families balancing cool-boxes on paddleboards.

Access isn't democratic. Prime shoreline belongs to private urbanisations whose security guards move on anyone carrying a towel rather than a set of keys. Public beaches exist—La Playa de Pelayos has sun-loungers at €4 a day and a roped-off swim zone—but space fills fast. Mid-week visitors find towels spread like picnic blankets across the coarse sand, while Saturday crowds spill onto granite slabs hot enough to fry an egg. Bring water-shoes; the shore is strewn with fist-sized stones that turn a casual paddle into a yelping hopscotch.

What the Village Actually Looks Like

Away from the water, Pelayos shrinks to its weekday self within ten minutes. The church of Nuestra Señora de la Asunción squats at the top of a gentle rise, its stone bell-tower more functional than pretty. Streets radiate downhill in a grid tight enough to shade summer pavements, though winter sun still reaches the wooden balconies where geraniums survive until the first frost. Traditional houses mix granite footings with ochre render; several sit empty, shutters latched, waiting for owners who appear only at Easter and August.

There is no medieval core, no plaza mayor ringed with orange trees. Instead, a single high street holds the butcher, the pharmacy, and a supermarket that stocks baked beans between the chorizo and the courgettes. British voices echo here on Sunday mornings as self-caterers hunt for teabags and semi-skimmed milk. By Tuesday the aisle chatter reverts to Spanish, the pace slows, and the bakery reduces its opening hours to match.

Walking, Wine and Weekend Calories

Hiking options start from the dam itself. A flat 4-kilometre track shadows the reservoir's northern arm, passing pine plantations where cyclists weave between weekend walkers. Branch uphill and the path climbs 300 metres to the Mirador del Alberche, a granite outcrop that frames the water against the distant Gredos peaks. The ascent takes forty minutes; the descent takes twenty plus a stop to pick wild thyme growing between the rocks.

Serious walkers treat Pelayos as the last supply point before the Sierra de Gredos proper. Trails head west into the regional park, but summer heat can top 38 °C by midday and shade is theoretical. Spring and autumn deliver 20 °C perfection: almond blossom in March, chestnut pickers in October, and the smell of wet granite after an afternoon storm.

Wine tasting fills the gap between hike and dinner. The San Martín de Valdeiglesias DO lies twenty minutes south; bodegas open on Saturday mornings for €8 tastings that move from crisp malvar whites to tempranillo aged six months in American oak. Drivers can spit; passengers usually don't. Several wineries post English-speaking staff during July and August, recognising the number-plate surge from Madrid airport rentals.

Eating Hours and Other Battles

Restaurant culture follows reservoir time, not city time. Kitchens fire up at 1 p.m. for lunch and 9 p.m. for dinner; between 4 and 8 the village culinary scene consists of crisps at the petrol station. El Mirador de Pelayos earns its name with a terrace cantilevered over the water—order the entrecôte to share (€24) and you'll get half a kilo of beef plus chips that arrive stacked like Jenga. La Cabaña does a three-course menú del día for €12: roast chicken, salad from a bag, and a pudding that always seems to be rice pudding with a cinnamon stripe. Vegetarians survive on tortilla and goodwill.

Evening alternatives shrink further. One chiringuito stays open until midnight at the weekend, blasting 90s Europop across the lake. Bring cash for the car park (€1.50 an hour) and expect the card machine to be "broken" for bills under €20. Drinks are Madrid-priced: €3.50 for a caña, €6 for a gin-tonic served in a fishbowl. Children run between tables until 2 a.m.; no one minds because their parents are doing the same.

Seasons and Sensibilities

Winter strips the place back to bare essentials. Many lakeside bars board up in October; the water drops four metres, exposing mud flats where herons stalk stranded fish. Daytime temperatures hover around 10 °C, nights drop below zero, and the granite houses leak warmth through single-glazed windows. What you gain is silence—just the dam's overflow and the occasional hunter's shotgun echoing across the valley.

Access can close altogether when snow hits the M-501. A white fortnight in January 2021 left the village cut off for three days; locals still talk about the bread van that needed a Guardia Civil escort. Chains live in car boots from December to March, and the British second-home crowd swap Ryanair for the long drive down through Santander to avoid airport chaos.

The Honest Itinerary

Arrive by 10 a.m., park at the dam lookout, and walk the pine ridge before the sun climbs. Swim early while the water still holds overnight coolness, then retreat to a shaded terrace for gambas al ajillo and a glass of ice-cold beer. If the beach turns into a football stadium, drive 27 kilometres to the Safari de Madrid—essentially Longleat with worse signage—where giraffes stick their heads through the sun-roof and keep children quiet for three hours.

Stay for sunset; the western aspect burns copper across the reservoir and the day-trippers dissolve into a haze of diesel fumes heading back to the capital. Eat late, sleep with the windows open, and you'll wake to church bells and the smell of strong coffee drifting from the bar below. Leave before Sunday lunchtime or join the crawling queue back to the A-5, watching the water shrink in the rear-view mirror until next time.

Pelayos de la Presa offers no monuments, no nightlife, no boutique hotels. It delivers instead a straightforward bargain: an hour and a half from Madrid Barajas you can trade airport queues for mountain air, city heat for swimmable water, and the knowledge that Monday's chaos feels convincingly far away—at least until the traffic backs up at the dam roundabout and reality floods back in.