Les Preses

The baker in Les Preses doesn't unlock his shop until the sun has cleared the crater rim. By half past nine, locals queue for the last loaves while tractors rumble past carrying feed to stone barns built from the same black basalt that once spewed from nearby volcanoes. This is rural Catalonia at its most functional – a place where geological drama serves as everyday backdrop rather than Instagram fodder.

At 474 metres above sea level, the village sits just high enough to catch mountain breezes that sweep away summer humidity. The air carries competing scents: freshly-cut hay from the surrounding meadows, woodsmoke from farmhouse kitchens, and something faintly sulphurous that reminds you this landscape erupted into existence 11,000 years ago. Forty volcanic cones punctuate the district, their slopes now covered in oak and beech forests that turn copper-gold each October.

Living with Lava

The relationship between villagers and their explosive geography runs deeper than scenery. Fields are delineated by dry-stone walls built from volcanic rubble, their dark surfaces absorbing morning heat to create microclimates for early vegetables. Farmers still refer to tosca – the local name for porous basalt – when discussing soil quality, knowing exactly which plots will drain well after autumn storms.

Walking tracks start directly from the church square, way-marked with green-and-white stripes that lead walkers past crater rims without ceremony. The most straightforward route follows farm tracks to the Volcà de Santa Margarida, whose perfectly preserved cone contains a Romanesque chapel where Sunday services continue year-round. The descent takes twenty minutes; the climb back up feels longer, especially when temperatures nudge thirty degrees by late morning.

Cyclists fare better on the Via Verda, a converted railway line that runs flat for 130 kilometres through old tunnels and across iron bridges. Bike hire shops in Olot deliver cycles to village accommodation, including trailers for toddlers and tag-alongs for older children who might struggle with the return journey. The path passes within 200 metres of Les Preses' only supermarket – useful when you've forgotten water bottles or snacks.

When the Day-trippers Depart

August transforms this working village into something approaching a holiday camp. Catalan families occupy rental cottages, the bakery sells out by ten, and finding parking near the Xenacs picnic area becomes impossible after breakfast. The solution is simple: explore early, retreat during peak hours, then venture out again as shadows lengthen. September visitors have the place largely to themselves, plus the advantage of milder walking weather.

Winter brings its own challenges. Snow falls perhaps twice yearly, enough to excite children but rarely sufficient to block roads. More problematic are the tramuntana winds that whistle down from the Pyrenees, dropping temperatures sharply and making exposed ridge walks genuinely uncomfortable. Between November and March, many restaurants close entirely – self-catering becomes essential rather than optional.

The village's practical limitations catch some visitors unprepared. There's no cash machine; the nearest bank sits five kilometres away in Olot. The Spar stocks basics but forget fresh herbs or decent coffee – a full supermarket run requires planning. Most kitchens shut by four o'clock; evening meals mean either booking ahead or cooking yourself. These aren't complaints, merely facts that shape daily rhythms for residents and visitors alike.

Eating Between Eruptions

Food here follows agricultural cycles rather than tourist seasons. Spring brings calçots – giant spring onions grilled over vine embers until charred, served with romesco sauce that stains fingers orange. Local butchers cure fuet, a thin pork sausage milder than chorizo that travels well in rucksacks for mountain picnics. The area's white beans, grown in the volcanic soil around Santa Pau, appear in hearty stews throughout winter.

Can Morera understands that not everyone wants traditional stews at lunchtime. Their three-course menú del día includes grilled chicken and chips alongside Catalan specialities, served without judgement to teenagers who balk at rabbit or squid. Quinze Ous takes a different approach, specialising entirely in eggs – scrambled, fried, or folded into massive omelettes filled with local mushrooms or butifarra sausage.

For committed foodies, Restaurante Vertisol will serve pa amb tomàquet even when it's not listed, rubbing toasted bread with ripe tomatoes and drizzling olive oil until it pools on the plate. This simple dish, eaten while gazing across fields towards the Croscat volcano, tastes better than any elaborate tasting menu in Barcelona – partly because you worked up an appetite getting there.

Beyond the Crater Rim

Les Preses works best as a base rather than a box-ticking destination. Stay three nights minimum: walk one crater, cycle the Via Verda, spend an afternoon at Can Xac farm museum where children feed goats and learn to knead bread. Book a dawn hot-air balloon flight – weather permitting – to watch sunrise illuminate forty extinct volcanoes simultaneously. Then spend evenings sitting in the church square, where elderly residents gather on metal chairs to discuss rainfall and potato prices in rapid Catalan.

The village won't dazzle with architectural treasures or Michelin stars. Instead, it offers something increasingly rare: a place where tourism supports rather than supplants traditional life, where volcanic drama provides daily context rather than mere backdrop, and where the bakery's opening hours matter more than TripAdvisor rankings. Come prepared for early closing times, limited phone signal, and the realisation that Spain's green heart beats to a very different rhythm from its coastal counterparts.