Serra de Daró

The single bar opens at eight, the church key is next door, and the nearest cash machine is ten kilometres away. Welcome to Serra de Daró, a grid of stone houses wedged between cereal fields and the slow-moving River Daró, fifteen metres above sea level yet a world away from the beach bars most Brits associate with Baix Empordà.

A village that works for a living

Agriculture, not tourism, keeps the place alive. Morning traffic is a tractor pulling a trailer of peach pallets; the smell is damp earth and tomato vines, not sun-cream. Houses are rendered in the sandy colour of the local aggregate, roofs tiled with curved terracotta that clicks in the heat. There is no medieval wall, no artisan ice-cream parlour, no gift shop selling fridge magnets. What you get instead is a functioning village whose inhabitants still weigh their aubergines on the pavement outside the cooperative.

That honesty is refreshing if you have spent time along the coast. Pals, with its restored arcades, is ten minutes north; beguiling, yes, but you share it with coach parties from Perpignan. Serra de Daró demands no queueing, no entrance fee, and barely any conversation if your Spanish is rusty. A polite “bon dia” will suffice; Catalan is the default, though the barman switches to estuary English when two golfers from Surrey arrive every April.

Flat lanes, big skies

The geography is a cyclist’s dream. The land rises just 30 m over the 8 km loop to neighbouring Gualta, so even fair-weather pedallers can manage a late-afternoon circuit before the sun drops behind the Montgrí massif. Signposts are sporadic but the rule is simple: keep the river on your left and the Pyrenees dead ahead and you will find your way home. Hire bikes in Palafrugell (€18 a day, helmets thrown in) or bring your own; the village has no rental outlet.

Walkers follow the same logic. A dusty farm track south of the church leads between pear orchards to a bird-rich oxbow where kingfishers flash turquoise in April. Continue another forty minutes and you reach wetlands that belong to the Montgrí Natural Park: herons, marsh harriers, and the faint tang of salt that reminds you the sea is only fifteen kilometres east. Take repellent in July; the reeds breed mosquitoes the size of 50-p pieces.

Lunch choices: one bar, or the car

Food options inside the village fit on a Post-it. Can Casadella, the bar on the tiny plaça, serves a three-course menú del dia for €14 mid-week: roasted chicken with romesco, white beans, and a wedge of peach cobbler made from fruit picked within sight of the tables. Portions are generous; service is not fast. If you need vegetarian fare, order pa amb tomàquet—toast rubbed with garden tomato, garlic and Arbequina oil—and a plate of local cheese. Sunday lunch is possible only if you book before Thursday; otherwise drive to Torroella for rice stew with clams at Can Miquel.

For self-caterers, the village shop sells cured sausage, peaches that actually taste of something, and chilled craft beer from the Pals brewery—useful when the afternoon hits 32 °C. The nearest supermarket is a Consum in Verges, six minutes by car; fill up there before you arrive if you are renting a cottage.

Using the village as a base

Staying here only makes sense with wheels. Figueres and the Dalí Theatre-Museum is 35 minutes north-west on the C-31; Girona’s old-town staircases and Game-of-Thrones archways are 25 minutes south. Both routes avoid the snarled coastal autopista. Closer still, the Iberian ruins at Ullastret (8 km) predate the Romans and have bilingual boards that explain why this plain was coveted long before beach towels arrived.

Beaches are not on the doorstep, but that is the point. Load the car after breakfast and you can be on the sand at L’Estartit by 10:15, before the car park fills and the pedal-boat touts wake up. If you prefer your coastline without high-rises, continue south to the coves at Mont-ràs: water the temperature of a warm bath in August, pine shade for picnics, and mobile reception patchy enough to silence the office mail.

When to come, when to stay away

April–mid-June is prime time: poppies along the verges, peaches swelling, daylight until nine, and mid-temperatures of 22 °C. September echoes the same numbers but adds harvest colours and empty lanes. July and August are hot—35 °C is routine—and the plain amplifies the sun. Accommodation exists in three self-catering houses and a rural B&B; none has a pool big enough for a proper swim, though the owners will lend you bicycles and advise on river swimming spots the guidebooks ignore.

Winter is quiet but viable. Frost silvers the artichoke fields, the church is unlocked on request, and you will share the single bar with farmers discussing barley prices. Snow is almost unknown; rain arrives in sudden, theatrical bursts that flood the dirt roads and keep walkers indoors. If you are happy watching clouds instead of waves, January rents drop by half.

The practical grit

Fly to Girona (30 min drive) or Barcelona (1 h 30). Car hire is non-negotiable; the village has no railway, and the weekday bus from Girona departs mid-afternoon, which is no use if your Ryanair flight lands after three. Roads are generally empty except July weekends, when French traffic queues for Pals—take the back road via Fonollera and you will skip most of it.

Cash remains king in the bar and the bakery; the nearest ATM is in Torroella, so withdraw before you arrive. Monday is the official day off: bakery closed, church locked, cicadas the loudest company. Plan a day trip instead—Cadaqués for whitewashed lanes, or the pottery town of La Bisbal for seconds on glazed bowls.

Worth the detour?

Serra de Daró will never compete with hill-top Besalú or coastal Calella. It offers no postcard moment, no castle floodlit at night. What it gives instead is a slice of rural Catalonia that continues whether or not you turn up—an increasingly rare proposition within an hour of the Med. If you measure holiday success by steps on your Fitbit rather than selfies in a sombrero, base yourself here, rent a bike, and clock up kilometres of empty tarmac between peach orchards and Pyrenean views. Just remember to be back before the bar shuts; the village does not stay open late for anyone.