Sant Joan de les Abadesses

The morning train from Barcelona rolls to a halt ten kilometres short of Sant Joan de les Abadesses. From the platform at the modern halt you still have to climb: the road coils upwards through red-pine woods until the air cools and the valley floor drops away. At 773 metres the village sits level with the highest tops in the English Lake District, yet here it is merely the first step towards the Pyrenees.

A Monastery that Outlived its Abbesses

The stone gateway opens straight onto the twelfth-century monastery, founded in 887 for Emma, daughter of Count Wifredo the Hairy. The building still dominates the main square, though the last abbess left five centuries ago and the church nave now feels airy, almost sparse. Most visitors come for the Santíssim Misteri, a life-size Romanesque carving of the Descent from the Cross kept in a side chapel. British art historians routinely call it the finest piece of early Spanish woodwork you can see without scaffolding or glass, and the custodian will swing the lights on if you arrive during opening hours (Tues–Sat 10–13:30, 15–18; €5, cash only). English labels are thin on the ground—collect the free A4 sheet from the desk or download the audio guide before you leave the UK if you like context rather than guesswork.

The attached Gothic cloister is two minutes across the cloister garden. Black-and-white photographs show the river Ter in flood, lapping at the monastery walls during the great inundation of 1940. The water has not reached the complex since, but the memory explains why the lower cloister windows look unusually small and slit-like.

One Arch, One River, One View

Behind the monastery the old Pont Vell throws a single 32-metre stone arch across the Ter. Built in the 1100s, it carried the Camí Ral, the medieval pack-animal route from the coast to the high Pyrenees; today it is the obligatory photograph, best taken from the near bank at dusk when the stone turns salmon-pink. Walk down the left-bank path and you reach a string of natural rock pools deep enough for a swim in July and August. Local families appear after five o’clock with cold beers and inflatable li-los; the water is brisk even at midsummer, so most British swimmers last five minutes before retreating to a towel.

What the High Street Actually Sells

Carrer Major is the commercial spine: ironmonger, bakery, two banks, a chemist and a shop that sells both goat-cheese and mobile-phone covers. Market day is Saturday until 13:00; arrive before 11 if you want the honey stall or the elderly couple who bring three wheels of raw-milk cheese from their farm in Ogassa. Prices run lower than the Cotswolds—expect to pay €14 a kilo for mountain cheese, €3 for a small jar of rosemary honey.

Lunch options are limited but authentic. Casa Rudes, open since 1892, serves escudella, the Catalan one-pot winter stew, followed by charcoal-grilled lamb cutlets. A three-course menú del día costs €16 and comes with half a bottle of house red; British families report that staff happily swap the stew for plain pasta if children revolt. Opposite the monastery, Can Jan does toasted sandwiches and chips when you need something approaching pub food.

Walking without Requiring an Ice-Axe

The valley walls close in immediately behind the village. A sign-posted path leaves from the old railway station (now the tourist office) and climbs gently through beech woods to the Salt del Freu, a 25-metre waterfall that runs fullest in April and May when snowmelt swells the stream. The round trip takes two hours, involves 250 m of ascent and requires only walking boots; the stone steps can be slick, but you will not need ropes unless you insist on standing in the plunge pool.

For a full day, continue beyond the waterfall to the ruined hermitage of Sant Antoni and the ridge of Montgrony. The return loop drops into the neighbouring valley of Campelles and back along the Vía Verde del Carrilet, a disused narrow-gauge track now surfaced for bikes and walkers. Total distance 16 km; allow five hours and carry water—there is no café between Sant Joan and Campelles.

Two Wheels, One Gentle Gradient

British cycle-tour companies sell Sant Joan as the first night on the “Mountains to Sea” route precisely because the gradients are civilised. The Vía Verde del Carrilet runs 11 km downhill to Sant Joan from Olot and then continues 30 km to the next valley at a maximum gradient of three per cent—perfect for grandparents or anyone who last sat on a bike in 1997. Bikes can be hired at the old station for €18 a day; helmets are obligatory and included. If you prefer tarmac, the back road to Ribes de Freser gives 500 m of climbing in 14 km—tough enough to feel virtuous, gentle enough to finish before lunch.

When to Come, When to Stay Away

Spring and early autumn bring clear skies and daytime highs of 18–22 °C—T-shirt weather for Brits, cardigan weather for locals. July and August push 30 °C in the shade, but mornings stay fresh and the pools under the bridge compensate. Winter is a different proposition: the village rarely sees snow, yet the approach roads ice over and the sun drops behind the mountains soon after three. Hotels drop their rates by half, restaurants close on random weekdays, and you will have the monastery to yourself—glorious if you like silence, frustrating if you want a cappuccino after 16:00.

Avoid the last weekend of July unless you have booked: the Count Arnau outdoor performances draw coach parties from Girona and every room within twenty kilometres. Accommodation otherwise is straightforward. The three-star Hotel Prats has doubles from €75 with breakfast, sturdy Wi-Fi and a small pool in the garden used by swallows as a bath. There is also a municipal albergue in the old railway goods shed—€18 for a bunk, shared kitchen, no curfew—popular with British cyclists collecting stamps for the Iron & Coal route passport.

How to Reach the Clouds

The easiest route from Britain is the afternoon Eurostar to Paris, overnight train to Girona, then local train to Sant Joan. Total journey 14 hours door-to-door if connections behave; book Paris–Girona in advance for €39 in a four-bunk couchette. If you prefer flying, Girona airport is 90 minutes away by hire car; the last 30 km twist through the foothills and can feel vertiginous after motorway autopilot. Trains run hourly from Barcelona Sants to Ripoll, where a connecting bus covers the final ten kilometres—timetables are co-ordinated, but the bus will leave without you if the train is five minutes late, so build in buffer time.

Last Light on the Stone

Evening falls quickly in the mountains. By eight the valley is in shadow, the monastery stones turn cold grey and swifts flick between the roofs. The day-trippers retreat to the coast, the bakery pulls down its shutters, and the village reverts to the people who actually live here. Sit on the bridge parapet with a carton of local beer and you can hear the Ter sliding over the weir, the same sound that greeted the abbesses when they closed the gates a thousand years ago. It is not spectacular, not show-stopping, simply a place that has kept its back turned on the Costa del Sol and carried on being itself. Some travellers will find that dull; others will catch the next train uphill.