Sant Pere de Torelló

The scent of burning wood reaches you before the village comes into view, a pale plume from the biomass plant that heats many homes, blending with the morning mist of the Vall del Ges. It gives Sant Pere de Torelló a soft, warmed atmosphere at first light, as if a giant stove had been lit in the middle of the valley.

From the road that slopes down towards the centre, the village sits tightly between mountains. Houses cluster around the church, while the Bellmunt massif rises behind, dark in the early hours. Stone dominates, with sloping roofs and the occasional more elaborate façade that hints at an industrial past. In autumn the light falls low across the surrounding beech woods and the valley shifts into shades of ochre and gold. October is often a good time to arrive: the paths are damp, the air carries the scent of leaves, and the sharper edge of winter has not yet settled in.

Walking up to Bellmunt

The climb to the sanctuary begins among fields and scattered farmhouses. It is about seven kilometres uphill with a noticeable ascent, so it rewards a steady pace if done on foot. When the sky is clear, the view opens wide over Osona, and to the north the Pyrenees appear as a bluish line on the horizon.

The sanctuary itself, perched along the ridge, looks higher than it is. In summer, when darkness falls and the building’s lights come on, clouds of insects gather around the glow. Locals talk about “les alades”, winged ants that appear at that time and cover the ground around the sanctuary.

The way back can follow forest tracks through la Grevolosa, one of the better-known beech forests here. In autumn the ground is layered with leaves, and it is common to come across people collecting mushrooms with baskets in hand. October weekends bring a noticeable shift: many cars arrive from the Barcelona area and some paths fill quickly by mid-morning.

A morning taste

By ten o’clock, it is common to see people having coca de llardons with coffee. Crisp, slightly salty from the pork fat, it often leads to an extra sip or two. In the village butcher’s shops, butifarra still hangs from metal hooks behind the counter—the white variety, the black one, sometimes more heavily spiced. Desserts made from curdled milk or fresh cheeses from the comarca also appear, simple and direct in flavour.

Food here does not revolve around visitors. The places where people sit tend to be the same as ever, and the atmosphere leans towards unhurried conversation rather than menus designed with outsiders in mind.

The rhythm of a fair

In winter, the Fira de Sant Sebastià usually takes place, an old fair linked to farming and livestock. If the weather cooperates, or even if it does not, the streets fill with stalls and with people from nearby villages who come to walk, browse, and buy cured meats or tools.

Spring brings book and rose stalls around the town hall square for Sant Jordi. Towards the end of summer comes the festa major. This is when many who live elsewhere return: people working in Vic, in Barcelona, or those who left years ago. Foreign number plates appear along the narrow streets of the centre, and at night conversations in Catalan mix with accents from across Europe.

During those days the rhythm shifts. There is more noise, more tables set out in the squares, and the smell of chestnuts or shared wine lingers in the air as night falls.

The scent of sawdust

For decades, this place was known for lathes and wooden pieces. Some workshops remain, with the scent of fresh sawdust drifting out through open doors, mixed with varnish and glue. Certain industrial spaces have been modernised with newer machinery, though the craft still depends on a careful, manual eye, reading the grain before cutting.

At night the village becomes quite dark. A short walk towards the outskirts is enough to hear the Ges river moving through the trees. When the sky is clear, the stars appear with a sharpness that is hard to recall in cities.

The people of Sant Pere sometimes jokingly call themselves “socarracristos”. They tend to say their village needs no embellishment. It is a place of valley and mountain, of wood smoke in the morning and paths that always seem to climb.