Swimming and so longs Part 2 - by Theo

Rosie is still on a two nap regime (of her own choosing) which means that heading anywhere is always a logistical challenge in order not to end up with an irate toddler. This theory was duly put into practice when Jon suggested spending Sunday in Cercedilla, a mountain town in the Sierra to the north of Madrid, where there are some swimming pools fed by mountain springs called Las Berceas. There are of course plenty of swimming pools in Madrid itself, but with temperatures due to hit 38 degrees in the city, the relatively cooler temperatures of mountains definitely appealed.

With this in mind I took Rosie out for a mega-playground session that morning in order to get her nice and worn out, with the hope she would sleep happily in the car. We then arranged to meet Jon by the metro stop - he lives near us, but was coming from his girlfriend's in Canal. He was slightly late as he had popped back to his flat to grab his swimming trunks. Sure enough, shortly afterwards, Rosie nodded off in the car and slept most of the way there getting about 45 minutes nap-time. Less than she usually has, but we figured it would even out with a slightly longer than normal nap on the way back.

Las Berceas is gorgeous. Two large pools with deep and shallow ends set among lush lawns under shady stands of pines trees surrounded by forested mountain slopes. Absolutely stunning. The approach wasn't the most pushchair friendly, but do-able, passing under the tree-top rope walks of the adventure park next door. We found a shady spot and set out our rug and Rosie's play tent. It was about this point that Jon realised he had somehow, despite making a detour to get them, forgotten his swimming trunks. Kate and I tried hard not to laugh too much. We soon solved the problem though, as I lent him my (non swimming) shorts to swim in. This meant I later had to walk back to the car and drive home in only my (rather skimpy and tight-fitting) boxers. Kate did take a photo, but I'll spare you.

The water, when we did get in, was extremely refreshing - just what was required. After our attempts to entice Rosie into the water the previous day we didn't even bother trying her in the pools - much too cold for her liking. She was quite happy though, chasing after balls that weren't hers, counting pine cones and later walking around the adjacent picnic site (occasional tannoy announcements reminded the swimmers that picnicking wasn't permitted on the lawn.)

Refreshed and fed, we headed off about 3pm to let Rosie have her second nap, though we were soon no longer refreshed as the car was like an oven and the air conditioning is badly in need of a recharge. Still, she quickly dropped off and stayed asleep even when we pulled in to Canal to drop Jon off. As he jumped out I noticed something under the passenger seat - his swimming trunks!

Cycling in the Sierra

At our prompting, Kate's brother Jez booked himself on a flight over here for a week; knowing Jez to be particularly fond of outdoor pursuits, I immediately got on the case hiring a couple of mountain bikes for his visit. I haven't been cycling for years and I'm terribly unfit, whereas Jez has cycled from Land's End to John O'Groats, but as surfing and sailing weren't an option I felt I would try my best! Besides with the Sierra de Guadarrama surrounding Madrid we're spoilt for choice over potential routes to explore, so having secured two bikes for a reasonable price from Bike Spain I picked a route out near the Palace/Monastery complex of El Escorial for Friday's ride. This was for three reasons: 1) Having walked the route before I was pretty sure we wouldn't get lost or die, as it was pretty easy and mostly downhill 2) I figured that we could go and get cultured up by checking out El Escorial afterwards which 3) would help to persuade Kate to come along as well and drive the 'support vehicle'.

My plan was duly executed, and after a reasonably straightforward drive out from Madrid we found the starting point, la Silla de Philipe II, a beautiful picnic and viewing area with stunning views of both the surrounding snow-capped Mountains and El Escorial. It was here that the full beauty of my plan was realised, for la Silla was the highest point on our ride and by persuading Kate to come with us and drive we'd be able to skip out the biggest uphill and have her meet us at the bottom. Result! It was a beautiful, clear sunny day, the leaves still on the trees in their autumn colours and as it was a Friday there was hardly anyone else around.


We got kitted out, which in Jez's case involved a complete change of clothes, in my case just putting on my helmet. Hmmmm, something told me my lack of fitness was quickly going to become apparent. I was even more pleased with the wisdom behind my choice of route - as it was mostly downhill I could get gravity to work for me. This turned out to be basically the case, although I did dismount and push on a couple of the uphills and one of the (extremely steep and rocky) downhills - hey, I'm not ashamed! Everything went pretty much to plan, with the ride being lots of fun and the trails deserted (great, as it meant nobody witnessed my total lack of balls and over-use of the brakes). As we neared the end of the trail there was a particularly fun, long downhill where we really cut loose and got some speed up. As I pulled up to stop at the gate I noticed that the quick-release catch on my front wheel was about to fall off. The nut holding it on at the other end had come off at some point and I had been one over-confident jump away from loosing my front wheel entirely and face-planting onto the rocky path. How relieved did I feel!! The support car was duly summoned and the last little stretch (along the road to El Escorial) was abandoned as we put the bikes in the back of Delilah and drove up to the monastery.


The huge, sprawling and slightly-forbidding building that is now part college and part museum, was originally built by Philip II as a monastery and summer Royal Residence; it contains in its crypt the tombs of much of Spain's royal family since Philip's time. The tour ranged from a fascinating collection of architectural tools and models in the cellars, to a large collection of art by Dutch and Spanish masters, a cathedral sized basilica, plus the sumptuous private royal apartments with stunning carved doors and incredible maps. Taking photos wasn't allowed, so I literally had to shoot from the hip, keeping our little digital camera in my pocket and surreptitiously snapping away, to get a few shots.


We piled back into Delilah and, while Jez and Kate took their siestas, I managed to get lost going back to Madrid. Typical.

Striding in the Sierra

To the north of Madrid, still bearing patches of snow despite it being the middle of June, is the Sierra de Guadalajara, its peak visible from large areas of the city. It was to the Siete Picos, one of the mountains in the range, standing at 2138 metres, that our new expat friend, Jon enticed us with a minimum of persuasion. We don't get a huge amount of serious exercise and, while neither of us are huge hiking fans, we've got some decent boots and are always willing to explore new areas of Spain.


The trip didn't get off to a particularly good start. After Jon had mis-read the bus timetable, meaning we missed the bus at Plaza Castilla, we then collectively missed the train at Atocha, thanks to the reduced bank holiday Metro service. So despite our early start (7am) we didn't make it to our starting point of Puerta de Navacerrada until midday after three trains and a protracted coffee stop in Villalba. The journey, and company, was extremely pleasant though, the railway offering spectacular views of the countryside as we climbed to what is - in winter - one of the busiest ski-runs in the world (unsurprising, given its proximity to a city of 3.6 million people.)
After a steep start, we made it to the top of the ridge that runs between the peaks, lunching in the shade of the first. The path varied between a broad, sandy track that would have been fine for bikes to a rocky scramble, barely visible among flowering gorse bushes, boulders and twisted scotch pine. The sheer abundance of flora and fauna was wonderful, the ground strewn with wildflowers of all colors tended by some amazing insects, with birdsong the only sound further down the slopes as the topography changed and the trees became taller and thicker.Jon is an experienced walker and holds a Mountain Leader qualification, and was keeping us on the right track (even when it wasn't visible) with his map and trusty compass. We only made one minor wrong turn, and that was when we were faced with a path that looked much steeper than Jon had anticipated. A quick attempt to find another way down the mountain demonstrated that, short of abseiling or making a massive detour, it was in fact the path. It was pretty steep, but that increased the enjoyment as we scrambled over rocks and trees following a line of mini-cairns marking the route til we arrived at an ice-cold spring where we gratefully refilled our water-bottles. There was hardly any breeze and we were sweating buckets in the sunshine.
5pm saw us arriving in Cercedilla, the terminus of the mountain railway, sipping a well earned cold beer on a cafe terrace before catching the train back to Madrid. We were slightly foot-sore, with touches of sunburn in places, but otherwise unscathed. Jon had plans to go to the cinema before catching an overnight train to Lisbon - Kate and I could hardly keep our eyes open!!