Sant Hilari Sacalm

Water, Wood and Weekends Without Crowds

The first thing visitors notice isn't the view—it's the sound. Water trickles from stone spouts set into cottage walls, gurgles beneath iron grills, and rushes through small channels carved beside the pavements. Sant Hilari Sacalm sits on a mesh of cold, iron-rich springs that bubble up whether anyone is watching or not. Roughly one hundred have been counted, giving the place its straightforward local nickname: "the town of the hundred springs."

At 800 m above sea level, the air is thinner and cleaner than along the nearby Costa Brava, 45 km away as the crow flies but a world apart in atmosphere. The village centre is built on a narrow shelf of land; streets tilt gently towards surrounding forests of beech and oak that fade, in turn, into the 30,000-hectare Montseny Natural Park. Even in high summer, when Girona and Barcelona swelter, evenings here demand a jumper.

A Short History of Taking the Waters

During the late 1800s, Catalan doctors prescribed the ferruginous water for anaemia and "nervous dispositions." A modest spa trade grew: stone bathhouses, a casino, and several grand holiday homes that now serve as family pensions. The spa closed decades ago, yet the legacy lingers in the form of neatly labelled public fountains. Fill a bottle at Font Picant and you'll taste something close to blood-warm pennies—proof that the mineral count is genuine, if not universally delicious.

The compact old quarter reflects that quieter prosperity. The parish church of Sant Hilari, rebuilt in the 16th and 18th centuries, anchors a square barely larger than a tennis court. Around it, three- and four-storey houses squeeze together, their balconies painted the municipal green that appears on every street sign. You'll find no souvenir arcades, no Irish pubs, hardly any signage in English. Instead, a baker sells ensaïmadas at 7 a.m., teenagers kick a football against a stone cross, and the day proceeds at a pace dictated by school runs and timber lorries.

Walking Without Way-markers (Almost)

Montseny is a walker's park rather than a hiker's wilderness. Routes start literally from the pavement edge: cross the main road, step past the last back garden, and a dirt track enters mixed woodland. Within ten minutes, traffic noise is replaced by jays and the click of trekking poles.

The most popular outing is the self-styled "Route of the Hundred Fountains," a 9 km loop that threads together half-a-dozen springs and a couple of disused charcoal pits. Way-marking is good, but mobile coverage is patchy; pick up the free map from the tiny tourist office (weekday mornings only). The circuit gains and loses about 300 m—enough to raise a sweat without frightening casual walkers. Expect rooty sections after rain; boots beat trainers here.

After heavy autumn rain, some fountains overflow and others vanish underground, so treat the count as poetic licence rather than an audit. Serious height seekers can continue south-east to the park's high points: Turó de l'Home (1,706 m) and Matagalls (1,697 m). Both are full-day expeditions starting with a 20-minute drive from the village to higher trailheads.

Cyclists face a different punishment. The BP-5101 from Hostalric climbs 650 m in 18 km: steady, shady and merciless. Sunday mornings see club pelotons grinding upwards while locals cruise past in tiny diesel hatchbacks. Mountain bikers aren't forgotten; forest tracks form several figure-of-eight circuits, though signage is aimed at hunters rather than riders—carry GPS.

What Actually Opens, and When

Sant Hilari services are geared to residents, not coach parties. The small supermarket closes for siesta (2-5 p.m.). Bars serve coffee from 7 a.m. but won't offer lunch before 1.30. Saturday night is lively; Sunday afternoon is dead. Plan accordingly: fuel, cash and snacks before 4 p.m. on Saturday, or wait for Monday.

Market day is Friday, occupying one side of Carrer Major. Stalls sell wild mushrooms in season, rabbit ready for the casserole, and blocks of local goat cheese so fresh they still bear thumb-prints. Prices are lower than coastal farmers' markets; a handful of ceps won't automatically cost €20.

For a sit-down meal, Can Borrell on Plaça de la Vila grills mountain lamb over vine shoots. A portion of xai de muntanya, roasted until the skin blisters, costs around €18 and feeds two with chips and salad. Vegetarians do better at lunchtime, when most bars offer escalivada (smoked aubergine and pepper) on toasted coca bread. Pudding is usually mató, a mild fresh cheese drizzled with honey—think Catalan cousin to Italian ricotta.

Winter White, Autumn Gold

Snow arrives unpredictably between December and March. The village itself rarely lies deep, but forest roads above 1,000 m turn white. Locals head out with wooden snowshoes that look like tennis racquets inherited from grandparents; rental shops don't exist, yet the tourist office will lend a spare pair if you leave ID. Check the Ajuntament Twitter feed for road closures—gritted routes stop at the municipal boundary.

October delivers the reliable spectacle. Beech foliage shifts from lime to copper, and the woods smell of damp leaf-litter and mushrooms. This is prime truffle season; restaurants add shaved black nuggets to scrambled eggs without fanfare or surcharges that would make a London accountant weep.

Beds, Bikes and Getting There

Accommodation divides into two categories: stone houses converted into four-room B&Bs, and the 93-room Hotel Vilar Rural, popular with Catalan school trips. Double rooms in the former start at €80 including breakfast; the latter charges €120 half-board and packs its pool with children during every holiday week. Book mid-week outside August and you'll have the place almost to yourself.

Girona airport is 72 km away, mostly motorway; hire cars are plentiful and the drive takes 50 minutes. Barcelona is further but still practical: 95 minutes on the C-25 toll road. No train reaches the village—the old narrow-gauge line closed in 1969—so buses from Girona trundle up three times on weekdays, once on Saturday, never on Sunday. In short, bring wheels or be prepared to wait.

The Bottom Line

Sant Hilari Sacalm offers clean air, proper forests and Catalan everyday life without the theme-park gloss. Come for a couple of days, walk until your boots are muddy, drink mineral water that tastes like coins, and remember that the biggest decision you'll face is which fountain to photograph first. Just don't expect nightlife beyond the clack of dominoes in the bar and the occasional church bell. For many, that's exactly the prescription needed.