Sant Llorenç Savall

The church bells strike noon, and the only reply is the clink of cycling cleats against café terracotta. Sant Llorenç Savall doesn't do rushing. Forty minutes after leaving Barcelona's airport ring road, drivers find themselves at 466 metres with pine resin on the breeze and a view of conglomerate cliffs that makes even the most screen-fatigued Londoner look up.

Stone, Forest and a Monastery in the Sky

This isn't a chocolate-box village. Modern apartment blocks sit beside 18th-century stone houses, and the high street is simply the C-1415 that happens to run through town. What pulls people out of their cars is the saw-tooth silhouette of Sant Llorenç del Munt massif, its highest tooth – the 1,104-metre Mola – visible from almost every street corner. The mountain is both billboard and barometer: when cloud swallows the summit, rain is an hour away.

The medieval heart is small enough to circle in twenty minutes. Carrer Major narrows to the width of a single Seat Ibiza, then widens into Plaça de l'Església where the parish church of Sant Llorenç keeps watch with a sundial-faded façade. Inside, baroque giltwork survives from the 1700s rebuild; outside, elderly residents park walking sticks against the stone bench as they debate the price of wild asparagus. Nobody hustles visitors for photos or euros. The town's economy runs on commuters who sleep here and work in Terrassa or Barcelona, plus weekend hikers who arrive with OS-grade rucksacks and expect silence.

Silence is guaranteed outside August. Mid-month brings the Festa Major: brass bands at 2 a.m., human castles in the square, and a paella pan the diameter of a small swimming pool. Book accommodation early or arrive the following week when normal volume – low – is restored.

Walking Tracks that Start at the Doorstep

Serious boots can march straight from the bakery. A way-marked path leaves town on a concrete farm track, turns into a stony single-file climb, and meets the GR-5 long-distance route. From there it's 400 metres of ascent to the 11th-century monastery that caps the Mola. The reward is a Romanesque apse framed by sky and, on clear days, a stripe of Mediterranean blue fifty kilometres east. Allow three hours up, two down, carry more water than feels reasonable; the only fountain is at the monastery, and it dries in July.

Shorter circuits weave through holm-oak woods south of town. A 5-kilometre loop tagged "Font de l'Àliga" drops into a shaded ravine where ferns grow from conglomerate boulders the size of cars. Mountain bikers share the track; ring your bell early – the bends are tight and the descent fast.

Rock climbers head for the conglomerate needles above Can Brull farmhouse. Routes run from friendly 4s to overhanging 7c, but the rock is soft: yank a hold and you might re-shape the cliff. Take the guidebook sold at the bakery for €18; the money goes towards bolting new lines and repairing storm-damaged paths.

What You'll Eat (and When You'll Eat It)

Breakfast is toast rubbed with tomato, olive oil and – unless you protest – enough garlic to repel vampires. Locals dunk it into tall glasses of red wine mixed with fizzy water; visitors usually opt for cortado, served in a glass the size of a golf ball.

Mid-morning, the bakery on Carrer Creu turns out coca de recapte, a sheet of crisp bread topped with roast aubergine and red pepper. Ask for it "sense botifarra" if you want the vegetarian version; the sausage is hidden under the vegetables like a surprise package.

Lunchtime menus hover round €14–16 Monday to Friday. Cal Ramon, set in a former blacksmith's forge, does a three-course that might start with canelons de la casa – pasta tubes stuffed with leftover stew, smothered in béchamel and gratinéed until the top blisters. Meat follows: grilled chicken or rabbit, chips, and the kind of ali-oli that demands a post-prandial stroll.

Evening eating starts late. Fonda Rius opens its dining room at 8 p.m.; on Sundays that's practically midnight for British stomachs. The house speciality is spring chicken cooked over vine cuttings, the skin lacquered with nothing more than salt and time. Order half a bird unless you're ravenous; portions echo the days when farmhands burned 4,000 calories before lunch.

Vegetarians survive but don't thrive. Most kitchens will swap meat for roast veg on the coca, and the local goat's cheese is properly tangy. Vegans should self-cater; the supermarket closes at 2 p.m. Saturday and all day Sunday.

Getting There, Staying There, Leaving Again

Public transport stops 18 kilometres short. Take the FGC train from Barcelona Plaça Catalunya to Terrassa or Rubí, then pre-book a taxi (€35–40). Car hire is simpler: follow the A-2 towards Lleida, peel off at Abrera, and snake along the BV-1201 until the road tips you into town. Petrol is cheaper at the motorway services than in the village; fill up before you turn off.

Accommodation divides into three categories: weekend rentals in converted farmhouses (pools, olive groves, price tags north of €200 a night in May), family-run B&Bs above the bakery (shared bathroom, Wi-Fi that remembers dial-up, €55 double), and the municipal albergue inside the old school (dorm beds €18, bring a towel and earplugs).

Check-out time is negotiable everywhere except the albergue; hosts assume you'll want another coffee before facing the motorway. If you're flying home, allow ninety minutes to reach the airport car-hire drop-off at rush hour – Catalan commuters crawl once the mountains disappear in the rear-view mirror.

The Honest Verdict

Sant Llorenç Savall delivers exactly what it promises: mountain air, forest silence, and a café terrace where nobody asks for your influencer handle. It also delivers steep lanes, patchy phone signal, and restaurants that shut when the chef feels like it. Come prepared – walking boots, offline maps, cash – and the town repays with empty trails and a monastery view that feels earned rather than handed over. Expect boutique shopping or nightlife and you'll be asleep by 9 p.m. with only the church bells for company. For walkers, cyclists, or anyone who measures holiday success in kilometres covered and calories consumed, that sounds close to perfect.