Les Cabanyes

The church bell strikes noon, and the only other sound is a tractor reversing into a barn. From the terrace of Cal Macia, you can count the rows of vines disappearing over the ridge—thousands of them, with just 1,000 villagers to mind the crop. Les Cabanyes sits 250 m above sea level in the heart of Alt Penedès, a municipality spread so thinly across the hills that its postcode feels more like a loose agreement than a place.

A grid of streets, a galaxy of vines

The original settlement clusters round the small plaça where locals still draw water from a stone fountain installed in 1923. Three roads radiate out; within five minutes they have turned into gravel tracks that fork between vineyards. No souvenir stands, no boutique hotels, not even a cash machine—just stone façades the colour of burnt cream and the smell of diesel drifting from a mechanic’s garage that doubles as the village’s only shop. The absence of “things to do” is precisely what pulls British visitors who have already ticked off Sitges and the Sagrada Família and now want somewhere that smells of soil rather than suntan lotion.

Altitude tempers the summer furnace that scorches coastal Catalonia. July mornings in Les Cabanyes can be a pleasant 24 °C, but by 3 p.m. the mercury still pushes past 32 °C. Winters, conversely, bite: night-time frosts are common and the mist sometimes lingers long enough to delay the first tractor. If you’re coming for quiet winter walks, pack a fleece and expect mud; the clay lanes stick to boots like wet cement.

Wine routes without the coach parties

Most travellers treat the village as a dormitory for the surrounding cellars. There are no bodegas inside the settlement itself, yet within a ten-minute drive you reach family names such as Masia Vallformosa and Caves Roger Goulart, both of which open for €12 tastings provided you ring a day ahead. The advantage of starting in Les Cabanyes is that you dodge Vilafranca del Penedès’ tour-bus circuit; Saturday mornings here mean a single van of cyclists rather than a fleet of Segways.

Prefer to stay on foot? A signed 7 km loop heads south toward the hamlet of Can Rossell, climbing gently through carignan and xarel·lo vines. Spring brings poppies between the rows; mid-September the grapes swell and the air smells like blackberries soaked in gin. The gradient is mild—around 100 m of ascent—but there is no shade, so set off before 10 a.m. and take more water than you think you’ll need. The only facilities on route are a font de ferro (iron-rich spring) whose sulphurous aftertaste is memorable for all the wrong reasons.

One restaurant, thirty seats, no choice

Cal Macia opens every day except Tuesday. Its three-course menú del dia costs €18 and changes with whatever Mercabarna delivers, but the constants are roasted chicken with samfaina (the Catalan answer to ratatouille) and a pudding of crema catalana thick enough to stand a spoon in. Vegetarians can ask for escalivada, though the kitchen will look faintly traumatised. House cava is poured from a 75 cl bottle even at lunch; ask for semi-seco if brut nature feels like licking a battery. Saturday night books up fast—there are only thirty covers—so telephone ahead or be prepared to drive to Vilafranca for pizza.

Sunday lunchtime is a ghost town. The baker shuts at 1 p.m., the mechanic rolls down his shutter, and even the village dogs retreat into shade. Bring supplies if you’re self-catering, or factor in the 4 km taxi to Torrelles de Foix where Bar La Pau serves a decent entrecôte and has Wi-Fi that actually reaches the tables.

Getting here (and away)

Fly to Barcelona or Girona; either way, allow an hour and a half on the road. From Barcelona airport take the AP-7 south to junction 28, then the C-15 and a final ten minutes on the C-244. The last stretch is a single-track lane where vines brush both wing-mirrors—drive slowly, tractors have right of way and they won’t reverse. If you’re car-free, the train to Vilafranca del Penedès runs twice an hour from Barcelona-Sants (55 min, €4.90) and a taxi to Les Cabanyes adds €18–22. Buses do exist but follow the school timetable; unless you fancy a 3 p.m. departure and a classroom of seven-year-olds, don’t bother.

Car hire is worth it. Without wheels you’ll miss the scattered masías, the hilltop shrine of Sant Jaume with its sea glimpse on clear days, and the ability to follow handwritten signs that simply say “vi i cava” until you reach someone’s barn willing to fill an empty water bottle with last year’s vintage for five euros.

When to come, when to stay away

Late April to mid-June is prime time: vines in bright green bud, daylight until 9 p.m., and hotel prices along the coast still recovering from Easter. The Festa Major around 24 June fills the plaça with a modest funfair and late-night dancing; fireworks start at midnight and echo off the stone houses, so either join the party or pack ear-plugs. Harvest in mid-September brings a buzz of tractors and the sweet reek of crushed grapes, but daytime temperatures can still top 30 °C—cycle early, taste at noon, siesta through the heat.

August is the month most locals vanish to the beach. The village feels abandoned by 11 a.m., and the surrounding tracks turn to powdery dust that coats shoes, socks and lungs. Unless your dream holiday involves solitary sun-scorched walks and a single open bar, schedule elsewhere.

The bottom line

Les Cabanyes will never make a “Top Ten Catalan Hideaways” list, and that is exactly its appeal. Come for the silence between rows of vines, for chicken roasted by someone who remembers your name on the second night, for a landscape that changes colour faster than a Suffolk field but with mountains on the horizon. Just remember to fill your wallet before you arrive, book your Saturday supper, and bring walking boots that you don’t mind staining an earthy Penedès red.