Thousands of lights glow in the valley. They sparkle like jewels in this deep black November night. The people in their houses down there must be cosy and warm. They don't even realise that we are watching them from up here.
We up here, on the other hand, are almost on another planet: on the 1900 metre high summit plateau of Cueva Valiente, in the middle of the Sierra Guadarrama. Today, our Netflix is the starry night sky, our dinner consists of hastily mixed pasta bags and our beds are right over there between the rocks: unrolled sleeping bags, already damp from the dew. I feel a bit like an outcast, but then I remember that we have chosen this exile ourselves. We follow in the footsteps of the bandits who wreaked havoc up here in the 19th century.
For many years, this draughty peak served as a hideout for the notorious "bandoleros", and one of their leaders was the bloodthirsty Antonio Sanchez. The latter was also admiringly known as "Chorra al Aire", which means "the one with eggs". This dubious chorra and his henchmen lay in wait up here for the royal messengers and merchants who had to pass through the Sierra Guadarrama on their way between Madrid and Segovia. The bandits' camp was allegedly located right here between these rocks, where a British, a German and three Spanish mountain bikers are now camped. But since the bandit stories are now a thing of the past and Spain's money transfers have long since been done by bank transfer, my ragtag group of bandits and I have our sights set on a completely different prey: the many hundreds of kilometres of trails that jag through this mountain range to the north of Madrid. Accompanied by the local tour guides from Blacktown Trails, we spend four days exploring this network of trails that have been trampled into the ground by human feet for centuries. First it was the bandits who stalked these trails. Then Spanish soldiers used the trail network to resist Napoleon's troops, and in the 20th century, during the Spanish Civil War, rebels fought against Franco's dictatorship from up here.
On our very first trail descent, we bump past ruined bunkers from the Civil War. When I think of all the blood that has already seeped into these mountains - you definitely don't want to add any more. But it's not that easy, because the path is steep, rooty and strenuous. Somehow, despite all my caution, I manage to keep up with Holger's wildly bouncing rear wheel for a while. Rafa Molina, the Spanish enduro champion, also remains in my field of vision until my instinct for self-preservation makes me pull away. Soon a pine forest swallows us up effortlessly. Its trees stand close together and our path winds inexplicably wildly around the resinous trees. Like an eel that has just been pulled out of the water. It would be child's play to hide in this forest, but just as easy to get lost.
Fortunately, we have trail builder Alberto Sepulveda, known as "Sepu", with us as our guide. He has already laid several trail tracks in these mountains and works voluntarily to maintain them. Needless to say, he flies along these trails like a god. And we chase after him - through shady oak forests and soon over fern-covered valley floors. We traverse steep gorges and plough up rocky ramps. Alone, I would have been lost after an hour, but despite the winding topography of these mountains, the incredibly dense forest and the 30 extra kilometres we're covering today, I don't see Sepu consult the map once. Suddenly we emerge from the forest and are standing right in front of the old stone hut at Cueva Valiente, where we set up camp for the night. I could swear the man has a built-in GPS. He always finds his way back, almost like a carrier pigeon.
After five hours in the saddle with over 1000 metres of elevation gain, we deserve a comfortable bed. But we are given an insulating mat and sleeping bag. Guide Emilio was kind enough to bring them up here in the off-road vehicle. It only takes a few minutes for the Madrilenean to set up a mobile kitchen in the stone hut. Our international gang is soon sitting around eating and telling stories. The initial language barriers are quickly overcome thanks to the three bottles of red wine.
With the heaviest heads ever, we set off at sunrise. 45 kilometres and another 1000 metres in altitude are on the agenda today. But twice as much downhill - the reward for yesterday's slog up to the summit. But thank goodness it starts with a descent: the trail leads past old trenches and bunkers before the first climb builds up in front of us at the end. It is steep and reminds us of the hearty breakfast we had earlier. Then we turn into another 15-minute descent with shredded bends to El Espinar, before climbing straight back up towards the main Guadarrama ridge. At the top, we let the sun steam our sweaty backs dry, then we follow the GR10 long-distance hiking trail along the rocky ridge. The path alternates between the lush, overgrown northern flank and the dusty, dry southern side. In between, we often have to pump our bikes over rock steps. Then we traverse the Valle de los Caidos (Valley of the Fallen). The remains of 40,000 war dead are buried here. Franco himself is also buried here, although he didn't actually die in the war.
Only the endorphin rush of the 600 metre descent to El Escorial washes away any thoughts of wartime. We come to a halt in front of the gate to King Philippe's palace with a lot of dust on our faces. Looking as wild as we do, we naturally decide not to take a stroll in the park. So we head straight for a nearby bar. Beer and tapas are just what we need now. "You have to try the fried pig's ear," Emilio insistently recommends. And again, I'm happy to be able to play my vegetarian card.
Vultures circle in the sky as we set off on our first ascent the next morning. Between heavy breaths, Emilio explains to us why we are unfortunately moving away from El Escorial's super trails and heading deeper into the sierra. Our destination for the day is the village of Patones. Its houses are built from black slate rock and have been fitted into a gorge wall of the same colour. Thanks to this perfect camouflage, the inhabitants were simply overlooked by Napoleon's occupying troops in 1808. As we rumble through the old slate alleyways in the afternoon, it is not difficult to turn the clock back a few centuries. Here, too, the bandits planned raids on the convoys heading for Burgos. I can just imagine them riding back through the alleyways swinging their loot and slamming the change they've taken straight onto the bar in the tavern. Speaking of which: we also plop down on the plastic chairs in front of a bar. Now let's have a few beers on our haul!
Info Sierra Guadarrama
The precinct
North of Madrid, this 80-kilometre-long mountain range stretches from east to west across the Iberian Peninsula. The highest peak is the 2430 metre high Monte Penalara. We had expected desert-like vegetation, but were then surprised by the extremely green and densely forested northern slopes of the mountain range. As the Sierra is only about an hour's drive from Madrid, many holidaymakers come here at the weekend.
Tour guides
We were travelling with the fairly new guides from Blacktown Trails. The guys all have an enduro racing background and are therefore pretty good riders. From their base in El Escorial, they organise everything from day rides with shuttle to multi-day tours on request. Rental bikes from Santa Cruz. Info: www.blacktowntrails.com
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Gitta Beimfohr
Editor
