BY JOHNNY TIPLER
PHOTOLIBRARY
It’s balmy early summer in Barcelona, just ripe for a top-down road trip in a sports car. Mine’s a Lotus Elise, the flamenco dancer of the highway: precise, flamboyant and passionately extrovert, perfect for the fabulous roads that hug the dramatic Muntanya de Montserrat peaks, just 50km west of the city.
Barcelona’s a beautifully stylish metropolis, wth incredible buildings, fabulous weather and amazing food. I stay at über-cool Hotel Omm (265 Rosselló, tel: +33 93 445 4000, www.hotelomm.es), its peeled-back exterior like a giant half-opened advent calendar.
After breakfast it’s drive time. Dead straight, the Avinguda Diagonale whisks me out of the city and onto the motorway.
After the first tollbooth, the road system quickly downsizes and, at the town of Martorell, I lurch into slow-moving
rural traffic as I head towards the village of Masquefa. Pretty soon I’m out in the country with the road to myself, where I indulge in some point-and-squirt cornering action (that’s motoring parlance for aiming the car and pressing the accelerator pedal) through the bends.
Flanked on the right by the distant mountain range that conceals my monastic goal, I follow signs for the town of Capellades. The jagged pinnacles of Montserrat are shrouded in mist, slowly evaporating as the sun rises. Scenery consists of vineyards, small golden fields scattered with poppies, deep gorges, yellow broom, umbrella pines and a ubiquitous bamboo-like reed. On the edge of a village I pirouette full circle around a roundabout just for the hell of it.
At the village of Can Bonastre I pause at the Wine Resort hotel and vineyard (www.canbonastre.com). Speciality of the house is wine treatments, where not only do you drink the product, you even get to bathe in it. I’d be in at the deep end if only I wasn’t driving.
I join a larger road at the village of Vallbona d’Anoia and cross the small Anoia river. At Capellades, the museum of paper-making (www.mmpcapellades.net) chronicles a local industry that dates back to the 15th century. It’s closed, so that wraps that up.
Across the valley, beautiful wooded hills are punctuated by craggy limestone outcrops. Visible for miles, La Torre de Claramunt castle sits high on one lofty spur, and I wind slowly through spaghetti-western style one-horse towns and dusty villages as I head north.
Plane trees shade the heart of cosmopolitan Igualada. The leather and tannery museums (www.euroleather.com/museums/igualada.htm) are worth a look, but I won’t, ahem, saddle you with detail. I pause for a cappuccino and am tucking into churros (a long, doughnut-like pastry) when the local guarda starts booking all parked vehicles in the main square. Luckily, the waitress tips me off so I quickly move, coffee gulped and pastries gobbled in car.
After a short stretch of the A2, I strike off for Montserrat National Park, where hairpin heaven courses up through the woods for a few kilometres towards Col de Bruc, a rocky ridge.
Stratification of the hills is quite clear down below, roads twisting away to distant towns, with vistas maybe 50km beyond to misty mountains on the horizon. Suddenly I’m at 2,500m in these towering pinnacles of pink sandstone, sculpted by the elements into giant mythological creatures: Lost World meets Easter Island. Greenery clings precariously to the crevices, extending right to the summit, while water traces down the rock faces in little runnels. A glimpse over the edge of the road reveals a petrifying sheer drop – thank God for the steel barriers.
I pause briefly at the little Romanesque church of Saint Cecilia, unsure as to whether or not this is my destination. The Lotus is mobbed by an enthusiastic coachload of Dutch teenagers while a woman in black gives it the strong, silent treatment.
Montserrat (www.barcelonaturisme.com) is like an independent kingdom in miniature, and it’ll cost you
€4 to enter – you take a ticket before driving up to the monastery, as you would do at a motorway tollbooth. Built on the side of a col (ridge) between peaks, the monastery consists of a jumble of buildings, some of which are old and rebuilt, and quite a few new or refaced.
The story goes that Montserrat shepherds found an image of the Madonna, way up on the heights – begging the question: what the heck were shepherds and their sheep doing up on the top there? But ours is not to reason why and, anyway, the Benedictine monks decided to make a thing of it and now it’s quite an industry. The monastery’s stunning location makes it a natural honey pot and, apart from the religious activities in the amazingly ornate, barrel-vaulted chapel, there are gift shops, several cafés and high-end market traders. Jaw-droppingly steep funicular railways and cable cars complete the picture, winding pilgrims and tourists from base camp to summit. I forego seeing the Madonna in favour of a decent lunch in the main cafeteria.
Mission accomplished, I descend to the Monastery of Sant Benet to see the newly renovated Romanesque tower. Suddenly, the heavens deliver a fusillade of stair rods, rain bouncing off the road like hailstones, and it’s rag-top roof to the rescue, pronto.
Back in Barcelona, I opt for paella at an establishment that’s filling up with locals and where the seafood is tops. It’s delicious and, no question, I’ll be back.
On the road
SENSIBLE SEDAN OR ÜBER-COOL SPORTS CAR? YOU CHOOSE THE WHEELS AND WE’LL GET YOU THERE WITH THESE SIMPLE DIRECTIONS. SO JUMP IN A HIRE CAR AND MAKE YOUR WAY TO MONTSERRAT!
Leave Barcelona city centre westwards on the Avinguda Diagonale, flowing onto the E-90 motorway.
After the tollbooth, exit via the A7 at Martorell and immediately join the B-224A, signed Masquefa.
Join the larger C-15 at Vallbona d’Anoia and head for Capellades, with Igualada a handy comfort stop.
Leave Igualada on the A2 towards Barcelona, then exit onto the B-110 heading for Montserrat National Park.
After Col de Bruc, make a right onto the BP-1101.
Past a roundabout, the entrance to Montserrat town leads up an avenue to the right.
From Montserrat, leave on the C-58 and pick up the main E-9 at Terrassa for the home run to Barcelona.
