Santa Maria de Besora

The morning bus from Vic carries eight passengers, three dogs and a crate of lettuces. By the time it wheezes up the BV-5227 to 866 metres, only two humans and one vegetables remain on board. This is the standard arrival ritual for Santa Maria de Besora, a parish-sized municipality scattered across such a wide sweep of pre-Pyrenean hillside that the village centre itself is little more than a stone church, a noticeboard and a bench with a view that stretches clear to the snow-tops of the Alta Garrotxa.

A Parish Without a High Street

Forget the usual Catalan postcard of arcaded plazas and bakeries proffering ensaïmada. Here the “urban core” is the twelfth-century Romanesque church of Santa Maria, its bell tolling the hours for 165 registered inhabitants whose houses are strung out along three kilometres of corkscrew lanes. There is no supermarket, no cash machine, no Saturday market. The only commerce is a morning-only grocery that doubles as the post office and closes on Wednesdays for no advertised reason. British visitors used to stocking up at a Tesco Express on arrival should divert to Torelló, fifteen minutes down the hill, before the final ascent.

What the place lacks in facilities it returns in altitude. At 866 m the air is cool even in July, when the Costa Brava is a sauna. Nights drop to 16 °C, perfect for sleeping without the air-con unit that Spanish coastal hotels bolt to the wall. The trade-off is weather that can pivot in minutes: a picnic in May sunshine can end in a hail flurry that sends you diving for the car. Pack a fleece regardless of the forecast.

Forests That Pre-date the Guidebooks

Santa Maria sits inside a mosaic of beech and oak belonging to the county’s communal forest system. Way-marking is improving but still patchy; the best tactic is to download the free 1:25,000 map from the Catalan Institute of Cartography before leaving British Wi-Fi. A straightforward loop starts behind the church, climbs gently through holm oak and emerges after 40 minutes on the meadow of Pla de Besora. From here the Pyrenees pop up like a wall of broken teeth, while southward the rounded hump of Montseny floats above a thermal haze. On weekdays you will share the path only with the occasional Catalan farmer on a quad bike moving sheep.

Longer hikes follow the old drove road toward the ruins of the Castell de Besora, a hilltop fortress dismantled during the Carlist wars. The 9 km round trip gains 400 m of height and finishes on a limestone bluff where kestrels hunt below your feet. Take water; there is no café at the top, only stone shards and a view that makes the climb worthwhile.

A Working Landscape, Not a Museum

The municipality’s real monuments are its farmhouses (masías), many still occupied by the same families since the 1700s. Dry-stone walls terrace the slopes; barns have slit windows designed for rifle barrels, a reminder that banditry was a recognised profession here well into the nineteenth century. Drive the unsigned lane toward Mas Font de Ciuret and you will meet free-grazing horses who regard cars as a mild curiosity. These are not photogenic props for Instagram; they are livestock that will block the single-track road while they decide whether to move. Patience, and a reverse gear, are essential.

The working nature of the place means noise is seasonal. August brings the clatter of tractors hauling hay; late October echoes with chainsaws stocking up on winter firewood. If you crave total silence, book outside those windows. Conversely, the fiesta of the Assumption (14-15 August) fills the valley with fireworks until 3 a.m. and a communal outdoor supper under string lights. Ear-plugs or a five-mile hike to the hermitage both solve the decibel issue.

Food You Cook Yourself

There are no restaurants within the village boundary. The nearest menú del dia is in Sant Quirze de Besora, ten minutes by car, where Can Xarina dishes out three courses and half a bottle of wine for €14. Vegetarians receive an omelette the size of a frisbee; vegans should plan ahead. Self-catering is simpler: the Saturday market in Vic (20 min) sells cured llonganissa sausage mild enough for children, local potatoes that still smell of soil and a decent stall selling Kent-grown apples shipped over by an expat from Maidstone. Most cottages have stone ovens resurrected by British owners who need a proper roast-chicken fix after two weeks of seafood paella.

Reaching the Middle of Nowhere

Public transport works for the patient but not the spontaneous. From Barcelona airport take the Aerobus to Sants station, train to Vic (hourly, 70 min) then Teisa bus 401 which leaves Vic at 07:25, 13:10 and 18:00 on weekdays only. The Saturday single departure was axed in 2022, and Sunday is literally bus-free. A hire car from Girona airport shaves time and adds flexibility; the last eight kilometres are on the BV-5227, a lane so narrow that meeting a tractor obliges one party to reverse to the nearest passing bay. The locals are courteous; hand signals and a smile generally suffice.

Winter Versus Summer

Snow is not guaranteed but neither is it rare. A 10 cm dump can close the approach road for half a day until the village tractor fits the snow-plough attachment. If you book between December and February, choose a property with parking inside the gates rather than on a camino that turns to slush. Spring, from late March to mid-June, delivers wild peonies on the lower slopes and the calçotada season when neighbouring farms host spring-onion barbecues: gloves and bibs are supplied; the smell of smoke lingers in your hair for days. Autumn brings mushroom permits (€5 from the town hall in Sant Quirze) and beech woodlands the colour of burnt toast, ideal for photographers who do not mind hiking for the shot.

The Honest Verdict

Santa Maria de Besora will never feature on a “Top Ten Cute Catalan Villages” list, mainly because it is not cute; it is functional, dispersed and stubbornly rural. The reward is space, silence and a night sky dark enough to track satellites. Come if you want to walk without meeting anyone, if you are happy to cook your own supper, and if the idea of church bells instead of car alarms feels like progress. Pack sturdy shoes, a paper map and enough euros for the week. Leave the Costa crowds where they belong—down on the beach.