13 kilometers separate the municipalities of Cenicientos and Sotillo de la Adrada. In the former, rumors begin to spread that it won’t be long before they are evacuated, while in the latter, residents are already leaving their homes after receiving the ES-Alert on their mobile phones. There, the smoke has almost consumed the entire sky. Ash falls on the shoulders of thousands of families who, at that very moment, can see their town added to the list of those evacuated after the devastation of the fires in Ávila and the Community of Madrid. They now number 30.
On the balcony of one of the houses, a man leans on the railing while, with a calm gaze, he watches his loved ones flee. “They say they’re evacuating us because of the smoke,” neighbors murmur, dragging their backpacks full of the little they’ve decided to take with them. Those with their own vehicles head directly for the roads that are not cut off and watch as the rest head, suitcase in hand, towards the Town Hall, where buses are made available for evacuation.
Among the crowd, the mayor, Juan Pablo Martín, tries to calm those affected, helps distribute masks and resources, and talks with EL MUNDO while witnessing the exodus of residents leaving his town empty. “What makes the evacuation most difficult is that the roads leading to Madrid are cut off. We are providing buses to take people to Arenas de San Pedro,” he stated, desolate after experiencing a situation never before seen in Sotillo. Even so, he highlights the serenity with which the evacuation is carried out despite “the constant unease” that enveloped everyone.
Now, after never having suffered an emergency of this magnitude, helicopters fly over the mountains ordering immediate evacuation. Masks once again become necessary as the Guardia Civil patrols the streets in official vehicles, warning house by house of the need to leave. Some residents still looked up at the horizon, hoping the sky would clear through the thick cloud of smoke, but the fire punishes. The ash continues to fall relentlessly and ends up staining the hands of those waiting for instructions, not knowing what will become of their town. “We’ll do whatever it takes,” they repeated.
At the exit of the municipality, the flight causes long traffic jams. Hundreds of cars are trapped on the roads, turned into a slow line of vehicles trying to get away from the flames, while hundreds of other people wait in the Town Hall square for the order to board the buses. From entire families to trucks transporting animals. Everyone tries to get somewhere safe.
But, despite the picture painted on the streets of Sotillo, inside the Town Hall is the other side of the coin. There, sitting in the plenary hall, a woman who chooses to remain anonymous, rests with her legs crossed, watching the hours pass. “No, I’m not abandoning it. I also have family and I’ve sent them a WhatsApp to tell them I’m at the Town Hall. Not to worry about me,” she flatly denies, shaking her head, invoking the patron saint of her town. “I know nothing will happen, that the Virgen de los Remedios is with us and nothing will happen.” She refuses to see her childhood home turned into a ghost town. She doesn’t contemplate that, having spent 83 years of her life there, the fire and the smell of ash will force her to leave everything behind. She must harbor a similar feeling to that of the President of the Community of Madrid, Isabel Díaz Ayuso, who in mid-morning travels to her father’s birthplace to collect her belongings after the evacuation warning.
As the last buses leave the square, silence gradually devours the noise of suitcases and neighborhood whispers. Only the Guardia Civil agents, volunteers, and some emergency personnel remain, patrolling the streets to ensure no one is left behind. Behind them, lowered blinds and closed doors turn Sotillo de la Adrada into an empty municipality, suspended in an uncertain wait.
Some, heading towards Arenas de San Pedro. Others, exposed to the fire advancing on the border between Castilla y León and the Community of Madrid. Thus, the authorities ended up ordering the municipality of Cenicientos, where the Advanced Command Post was located, which today dawns in Navalcarnero to continue coordinating the emergency.
The gazes to the sky, hoping the wind will change and the smoke will open a clear patch over the mountains, do not cease. Not even hours later, when some already assume they won’t sleep at home. “We’ll do whatever it takes,” a woman repeats with her animals’ documentation under her arm. She cannot leave without them.
The uncertainty that devoured Sotillo de la Adrada in the mid-afternoon now envelops it in silence. A few hours are enough to transform those 13 kilometers into smoke and ash.
