High stakes and highland heifers: why Spain’s Picos de Europa are (officially) the world’s most beautiful region

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Time Out has crowned this rugged national park in Asturias as the top destination for 2026, where dramatic peaks meet ancient pilgrimage trails and very stubborn cows

Dilip Kuner

Tuesday, 7 April 2026, 15:37 | Updated 16:08h.

It is a brave thing for a travel authority to declare one single patch of earth the "most beautiful in the world”.

Usually, such titles are reserved for the polished coastlines of the Amalfi or the manicured peaks of the Swiss Alps. The problem with such places - beautiful as they undoubtedly are - is that at times the scenery feels like it was designed by a concierge, so perfect is it.

But when Time Out handed the 2026 crown to the Picos de Europa, it felt like a win for the rugged underdogs. This jagged limestone national park in Northern Spain doesn't do "manicured". It is a landscape of dramatic contradictions: lush Atlantic meadows that look like Ireland on steroids, pressed against vertical grey spires that feel like the backdrop for a high-fantasy epic. And a break here is all put together with a distinctly Spanish flavour - as if chaos could erupt at any moment but never actually does.

The Paco factor and pilgrim paths

Last summer, my wife Sandra and I decided to enjoy the cooler climes of the Picos (compared to the scorching Costa del Sol - it was 40C in Marbella compared to a refreshing 23C in Asturias). We quickly discovered that the "world-class beauty" in the principality comes with a side of logistical gymnastics. The crown jewel of the park is the Lagos de Covadonga - two glacial pools, Enol and Ercina, tucked high in the Western Massif.

To get there, you must board a fleet of Alsa coaches in the busy-with-pilgrims-and-tourists town of Cangas de Onís. This town isn't just a bus hub; it was the first capital of the Kingdom of Asturias and is a vital gateway for those on the Camino de Santiago. Specifically, it serves the Camino Primitivo and the Camino de la Costa networks, where modern pilgrims swap their walking sticks for bus tickets to witness the mountain "miracles."

Our driver - let's call him Paco - navigated hairpin turns with the casual indifference of a man buying milk. At one point, we swung our back end over a thousand-foot drop to let a descending bus pass with about three inches of clearance. Sandra was unconcerned, but I spent the ascent practicing "yogic breathing," which is a polite way of saying I was white-knuckling my armrest.

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Our alpine overlords

Once you reach the top, you realise the humans aren't actually in charge. That honour belongs to the Asturian Mountain cattle. These aren’t your average, bored pasture cows; they are elite, high-altitude sovereigns.

In the Picos, you don't hike the trails; you negotiate them. If a cow decides to take a nap in the middle of a gate, you don’t move her - you find another route. It’s a level of confidence I can only aspire to, especially when being stared down by a ginger heifer who clearly knows she is the centrepiece of a Unesco Biosphere Reserve.

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