From Liébana, Picos de Europa
The first time I went to the Picos de Europa was the result of a sustained campaign from Diego. He kept telling me about these mountains in the north that I simply HAD to see.

Finally capitulating, I remember clearly driving along the Hermida Gorge thinking, “why on earth has nobody, apart from Diego, ever told me about this?!” The Picos are so dramatic and spectacular that it’s wonderfully easy to disconnect from daily life and soak up nature.

From Liébana, Picos de Europa
It isn’t supposed to be clear, it’s November for heavens’ sake. By rights the mountains should be in a thick layer of cloud. My new wife and I should be curled up, guilt free, in front of a big open fire.

But we have been blessed with a beautiful day and there is no excuse not to be up here in the high mountains. Diego wants to show us a walk from Sotres village, it sounded pretty nice. In reality it’s breathtaking.

From Liébana, Picos de Europa
We were in good hands. Being nearly winter, a fire was roaring, a game of chess, a fireside chat and glass of Rioja was awaiting us. The night was so deeply silent that I forgot where I was: hidden in the crinkled mountain foothills of northern Spain’s Picos de Europa mountains.

A favourite memory of this visit was opening the windows of my room the next morning to reveal the high mountains peaks all lined up below the autumnal trees.

From a mountaintop in the Picos de Europa
Sometimes a moment comes together so vividly that we can freeze in time and go back there in our minds whenever we want. For me, there was a sunset from Collado Jermoso.

I, a man of so many mountain memories, felt overwhelmed by the natural beauty, by the light and shade and by the stillness of the silence. I realised that such moments are always happening out of sight, we just need to get up and go find them. For me, that's what travel is for.

From a high pass in the Picos de Europa
There is no better feeling for a guide than a guest's gratitude as you ease them out of their comfort zone, boost their confidence and gently push them to discover new views and new emotions.

Like the time when the rocky landcapes of a high Picos pass, on a seemingly dark and gloomy day, became the high point of a trip as the clouds broke. When I saw those smiling faces, I told them: "now you love the Picos like I do."

From Liébana, Picos de Europa
We were walking back in time. Every step further from Potes was like moving decades away from the present. In every little village there were no more than six houses. Red geraniums thrive in every window and entrance door. We barely saw people, neither walkers nor locals.

A single sleepy cat was the constant in every settlement, as if guarding the past, making sure things were exactly as left there before and not letting any memory escape.

From Liébana, Picos de Europa
Rafael is the owner of a large sheep and goat flock. Like his ancestors, he worries about wolves killing his livestock at night, but he also has a powerful 4-wheel drive to make his life easier. He has a daughter living in the capital and at night he might post a picture on Facebook.

Whatever changes, he remains one of the nicest people you can find in the Picos and a great person to spend the afternoon with, chatting about life.

From Mestas de Con, Picos de Europa
In Spain, if you have grapes, you make wine. If you have apples, you make cider. Since there are no vines in sleepy Sirviella, they stick to cider.

Pepín told stories about childhood days, picking apples and crushing them. And of how people from the village would get together and tell the same stories, year after year, about the sweetness of the first juice and how bitingly cold those autumn nights in the barn squeezing the juice were.