We woke up to a bright sun, the kind that sneaks into the camper without asking and tells you that today is a beautiful day. I opened my eyes slowly, checked that everything was in order and decided that it was a good time to get going, although without rushing, as the morning promised calm.

Before setting off, we took a good walk through the Herrería Forest. A walk to be enjoyed with your whole body. Wide paths, old trees, cool shade and that smell of the forest that enters your snout and organises your ideas. We crossed it almost entirely until we reached the place where we had parked the day before, when Papi Edu visited the monastery of San Lorenzo de El Escorial. From there it could be seen in the distance, huge and serious, peeking out from between the trees as if it were still watching over the valley. I looked at it for a moment, more out of politeness than interest, and continued with my investigations at ground level, as the forest was full of fresh news.

There were quite a few people. Humans walking dogs, others running with a face of voluntary sacrifice, groups chatting, the peaceful life of a large park. I like that atmosphere because no one is in a hurry and everyone seems to be on their own plan, which is usually the best plan.

We went back to the camper, closed invisible backpacks and set off around noon. The goal was to get closer to the Valle de Cuelgamuros, which is quite close. It used to be called Valle de los Caídos, but the name was changed to leave behind what it represented and use the real name of the place. Franco was buried there for many years, until in 2019 they took him out of there and moved him to another place. It is a place loaded with history, with thick silence and with things that weigh you down even if you only look at them from the outside.

We knew that Monday was closed, so our idea was to be satisfied with an exterior view, even from afar. But not even that. The access road to the enclosure was closed and from that point to the monument there are about five kilometres. Too many to improvise and also without any clear view. So the valley was left pending, invisible and mysterious, like those places that seem to hide on purpose.

We continued along the road, left the area and linked first with the motorway and then with national roads. The landscape changed until we reached the Guadarrama pass, the one of a lifetime, the one that avoids the tunnel. I like it better that way, seeing how the road goes up and how the world opens up around me, even though I'm going quietly in my seat.

We stopped to eat at an old rest area on a road that has almost been forgotten, just past Villacastín. A quiet, somewhat abandoned place, perfect for a long break. We ate without rushing and as the weather was so good, Papi Edu took the opportunity to have a haircut and take a shower. I, frankly, had been thinking for days that it was needed. I could see it in the beard, which was begging for scissors, and I could smell it in the armpits, which were urgently demanding water. So I supervised the operation with professional satisfaction, because a trimmed and clean human travels better and smells a lot more like a civilised person.

There was a water fountain and that's travelling gold. We filled the tank and the jerrycans while that beautiful sound of the water entering was playing, which gives me a strange feeling of security, as if the trip was being recharged from within.

We continued the route and later we arrived at the viewpoint of Puerto del Pico. An impressive place. It is in the heart of the Sierra de Gredos, within the Regional Park, surrounded by mountains, deep valleys and a landscape that forces you to stop even if you don't want to. The pass is very old, it was already used by the Romans, and a section of the road is still preserved. That impresses me quite a lot, to think that paws and feet passed by there so many centuries ago.

The views are enormous. The kind that leave you still for a while even if you don't quite understand why. We had already been there more than ten years ago, when we were travelling from Extremadura to Segovia, but then I was very small, I was barely four months old, so my memory is more theoretical. This time I lived it for real, calmly and with perspective, which is also learned with the years.

We went down the pass on the other side, a road full of curves and open views, the kind that you enjoy without looking at the clock. At the end of the day we found a perfect place to spend the night. Playas Blancas, in the municipality of Mombeltrán. It is a picnic area next to a river, with a small river beach and clear sand. Nature everywhere, forest around and a good silence, the kind that doesn't weigh you down. There's only one other motorhome and it's far away.

I ran down to the sand, took a few happy turns and smelled everything that needed to be smelled. The water sounded nearby. I approached it. I looked at it. I decided that looking at it was enough. Everyone enjoys it in their own way.

Here we stayed to sleep. A quiet, beautiful place, the kind that feels good as soon as you arrive. I lay down satisfied, with my body tired and my head full of landscape, thinking that there are days that don't need more than this to stay with you.