Santa Margarida de Montbui

The first thing you notice is the chimney. A slender brick tower rises above the rooftops, the last remnant of a cotton mill that once employed half the parish. It stands beside the C-241, impossible to miss, and tells you immediately that Santa Margarida de Montbui is nobody’s fairy-tale village. This is a working municipality of 5,000 souls, 316 m above sea level and barely fifteen minutes’ drive from Igualada, whose suburbs are already nibbling at the farmland to the south.

Altitude here matters. At 316 m the air is a touch cooler than on the coastal plain, and winter mornings can bring a sharp frost that British visitors rarely associate with “sunny Spain”. Day-time highs in January hover around 10 °C, perfect for brisk walking but chilly enough to justify the log-burner that UK guests praise at Cal Talaia cottage on the northern edge of town. Come July the thermometer climbs to 30 °C, yet the low humidity of the Central Depression keeps the heat tolerable; the same guests who rave about winter walks return for September cycling, when the cereal fields have been shorn to golden stubble and the tracks are firm.

From Irrigation Ditch to Industrial Spine

The Rec Comtal, a medieval water channel built by Moorish engineers and enlarged by the monks of Santes Creus, still threads through back gardens and industrial estates. You will not find a neat sign-posted trail; instead you follow concrete slabs laid by householders who have turned the rec into a makeshift washing line or bike shed. Here and there the original stone lining reappears, green with moss and humming with damselflies. A short, intact stretch runs behind the football ground—walk it at dusk and you share the path with teenagers on scooters and grandmothers walking terriers. It is ordinary, unspectacular, and therefore honest.

Church, Chimneys and the Tossa Ruins

The parish church of Santa Margarida sits at the geometric centre of the old grid. Inside, a Romanesque baptismal font squats beneath a Baroque retable painted in ox-blood and gold. The font is older than most Essex villages; the retable was paid for with profits from the 1824 mill boom. No one will charge you entry, and doors are normally open between 9 a.m. and 1 p.m.—hours that mirror the baker’s, not the tourist office’s.

Drive another three minutes north-east and the tarmac stops at the Tossa de Montbui, a fortified Iberian site later reused by the Romans and flattened during the Civil War. What remains is a waist-high outline of walls and a view that stretches across the Anoia basin to the pink cliffs of Montserrat. The climb takes twenty minutes from the car park; trainers suffice, but the wind can be brutal in February. Bring a jacket and a pair of binoculars: red kites ride the thermals above the cereal fields, and on exceptionally clear days you can pick out the Pyrenees.

Pedal, Paddle or Just Sit

Santa Margarida functions best as a base rather than a checklist. Cyclists can roll straight out along the river Anoia to Capellades (11 km) or continue to the paper museum at La Pobla de Claramunt (another 6 km). Gradient is negligible, surfaces are tarmac or compacted gravel, and you will share the route with locals commuting to the leather factories of Igualada. Mountain-bikers head south into the Comalats hills, where pine and holm-oak alternate with almond terraces; the Corb River valley loop is 22 km with 350 m of ascent—comparable to a Surrey lane ride but with added griffon vultures.

If you prefer two feet to two wheels, the GR-7 long-distance footpath skirts the municipal boundary. A there-and-back section to the ruined village of Els Altimiris takes four hours and requires stout footwear; after rain the clay sticks like Cotswold bridleway mud. In summer start early: shade is scarce and the only water source is a cattle trough one hour in.

Eating: Shop First, Ask Later

There is no restaurant inside the village itself. The single bar opens at 6 a.m. for workers’ coffee and shutters at 9 p.m. sharp. Self-catering is therefore default, which suits most British visitors who rent Cal Talaia for its “extensive kitchen” and eight-seat oak table. Stock up in Igualada before you arrive: the Consum supermarket on the ring-road stocks Cathedral City cheddar and Yorkshire tea alongside botifarra and local judías del ganxet beans. Tuesday and Saturday bring a produce market to the Plaça de l’Ajuntament; stallholders will sell you three slices of jamón or a single tomato, and prices are marked—no haggling expected.

When you do want someone else to cook, Igualada offers everything from a British-style brew-pub (Dublin Dublin serves a decent pie-and-pint deal for €12) to family tapas bars where grilled escalivada arrives still smoking. Allow €20–25 per head for dinner with house wine; kitchens close at 10:30 p.m., earlier on Sundays.

Seasons, Crowds and Car Hire

Spring and autumn are kindest. April turns the almond orchards white, and the temperature range (8–20 °C) mirrors a good British May. October brings grape harvest traffic on the C-241 but hotel prices drop; Cal Talaia’s weekly rate falls by roughly 30 % once the school term resumes. August is hot, still and half-empty—many locals shut their shutters and head to the coast, which means plenty of parking but limited bakery hours. Winter is viable if you rent a cottage with central heating; days are bright, nights drop to –2 °C, and the chimney on the old mill becomes a photographic silhouette against rose-pink skies.

Public transport exists in theory only. The daily bus from Barcelona Estació de Sants reaches Igualada in 75 minutes; from there a taxi to Santa Margarida costs €22 and must be booked the previous day. Car hire from Barcelona El Prat (2 hrs 30 min flight from Manchester, 2 hrs from Gatwick) is simpler and usually cheaper for stays longer than three days. Take the AP-7 toll road west, switch to the A-2 at Martorell, then follow the C-241 north after Igualada. Parking in the village is free and unrestricted—another clue that coach parties have not yet arrived.

Parting Shot

Santa Margarida de Montbui will never feature on a “Top Ten Prettiest Villages” list, and the locals prefer it that way. What it offers is a slice of everyday Catalonia where you can cycle to a ruined Iberian fort before breakfast, buy beans from a market stall that still uses Roman scales, and watch the sun set behind a 19th-century cotton chimney. If that sounds like your sort of ordinary, bring walking shoes and a appetite for botifarra—just remember to reach the baker before she closes for siesta.