Argelaguer

The bakery opens at seven. By half past, the village's entire stock of croissants has usually vanished into the boots of Renault Clios and the panniers of cyclists refuelling before the climb to Olot. Argelaguer's single oven serves 428 permanent residents plus whoever spent the night in one of the three rented farmhouses nearby. That statistic alone tells you most of what you need to know about scale here.

At 183 metres above sea level, the village sits low enough for almond trees to survive yet high enough for the Pyrenees to dominate every northern horizon. Morning mist pools along the Fluvià river, lifting by nine to reveal a landscape that looks more like inland Provence than the Costa Brava posters at the airport. The difference is the volcanoes: thirty minutes' drive north-east, the ground swells into perfect cones covered with beech forest. Argelaguer isn't in the volcanic zone proper, but it catches the overspill of walkers who prefer bedrock to basalt.

Stone, Sun and Silence

The old centre fits inside half a football pitch. Carrer Major runs for 120 metres, forked at the top by the twelfth-century church of Sant Feliu whose bell still marks the quarters. Houses are built from the same grey-brown sandstone; no whitewash, no geranium pots, just solid masonry softened by lichen. Doorways deserve a pause: some still carry the carved initials of farmers who enlarged their dwellings after a good harvest in 1783. Planning permission was simpler then.

Beyond the last houses, tarmac gives way to farm tracks that wander between vegetable plots and carob plantations. Public footpaths are signposted in Catalan with distances that feel optimistic until you realise they're measured in "tempes" – the time it takes a local in work boots. Allow an extra twenty per cent if you're wearing approach shoes and carrying a litre of water.

Walking Without Waymarks

The most useful path heads west, following irrigation channels to the hamlet of Montagut. It's five kilometres on the map, ninety minutes on the ground, and you meet nobody between the village limit and the first barn. Buzzards circle overhead; somewhere down the slope a tractor reverses with that monotonous beep that replaces birdsong across rural Europe. Turn round whenever you've had enough: the return journey gives you the Pyrenees dead ahead, snow on the tops until late April.

If you want something more committing, drive ten minutes to Sant Joan les Fonts where two extinct volcanoes frame a gorge. The 14-kilometre loop around the lava flows is waymarked, but buy the 1:25,000 map in Olot anyway – phone batteries expire quickly in cold weather and the official GPS track sends you through a quarry that has been fenced off since 2019.

What Passes for Gastronomy

Restaurant choices number exactly one inside the village boundary. El Café d'Argelaguer opens at eight for coffee, serves a three-course lunch menu for €14.50, and closes when the last customer leaves. Expect roast chicken with pepper and onion, white beans stewed with pork cheek, and a crème catalana thick enough to stand a spoon in. The owner speaks fluent English after twenty seasons in Cambrils; he'll warn you that the fesols are filling and suggest a half portion if you plan to walk afterwards.

Evening meals require forward planning. Can Xac, two kilometres towards Besalú, keeps Spanish hours: lunch 13:00–15:30, dinner 21:00–22:30, closed Monday and whenever the owners visit their daughter in Girona. Book by 11 a.m. or risk driving to Olot for pizza. Vegetarians survive on grilled vegetables and omelette; vegans should self-cater.

Shopping is similarly austere. The bakery does bread, pastries and not much else. The adjacent grocery stocks UHT milk, tinned tuna and local wine at €3.80 a bottle. For anything perishable you need to reach Besalú before 13:30 on Saturday; after that the supermarkets shut until Monday morning. This is not the place to arrive with an empty fridge on a Friday night.

Practicalities That Matter

No cash machine. No petrol station. No taxi rank. The nearest pharmacy is six kilometres away and closes for lunch between 14:00 and 16:30. Bring euros, a full tank, and any medication you might need. Mobile coverage is patchy: Vodafone works on the high street, EE drops to 3G everywhere else. Wi-Fi in rented houses is reliable because the fibre backbone to Olot runs overhead; ask if the router is on the ground floor or you'll spend the week leaning out of an attic window.

Weather divides the year cleanly. April to mid-June is warm, dry and empty. July and August turn hot (32 °C) and the village fills with Catalan families who keep second homes here. September offers the best walking: clear skies, 24 °C at midday, cool enough at night for a jumper. October brings colour to the beech woods and the first serious rain. From November to March the place half-closes; some restaurants board up, the bakery reduces hours and you meet more hunters than hikers. Snow is rare at village level but the road north to Olot can ice over overnight – carry chains if you're driving in winter.

Why You'd Come, Why You Might Not

Argelaguer suits travellers who measure success in kilometres walked rather than souvenirs bought. It works as a cheap, quiet base for the Garrotxa volcanoes, the medieval bridge at Besalú, or a day trip to Girona's old town (45 minutes by car). Cyclists appreciate the lack of traffic: on a weekday morning you can ride ten minutes before meeting a vehicle. Birdwatchers get hoopoes in the olive groves, serins in the allotments, and the occasional golden eagle over the ridge.

Come here if you want to practise Spanish or Catalan with people who have time to chat. Don't come for nightlife, retail therapy, or Instagram moments – the village square is photogenic at dusk but you won't fill a feed. And remember the croissant rule: if the bakery has sold out, you've already seen the day's biggest crowd.