Sant Antoni de Vilamajor

The church bell strikes noon as a tractor rumbles through Sant Antoni's modest plaça, its trailer laden with crates of just-picked chardonnay grapes. At 250 metres above sea level, this working village sits exactly where the Vallès plain surrenders to the Montseny massif, creating a microclimate that keeps mornings misty even when Barcelona swelters 35 kilometres south-east.

That altitude makes all the difference. Summer temperatures hover five degrees cooler than the coast, while winter brings proper frost that silver-plates the surrounding pine forests. The elevation also explains why the village's 5,000-odd inhabitants still harvest grapes, almonds and olives on slopes too steep for industrial agriculture. These aren't hobby vineyards planted for weekenders – they're family plots worked by third-generation farmers who supply the cooperative bodega on the road to Cardedeu.

A Village That Refused to Become a Commuter Town

Sant Antoni's growth has been messy but pragmatic. Yes, you'll spot 1980s apartment blocks on the outskirts, yet the historic core remains stubbornly intact. Carrer Major still measures barely four metres wide, forcing delivery vans to fold in their mirrors as they squeeze between ochre-coloured houses. The parish church of Sant Antoni Abat dominates this medieval grid, its squat bell tower visible from every approach road.

The architectural star is Can Mora, a fortified farmhouse turned cultural centre whose 16th-century defensive tower now hosts contemporary art exhibitions. Entry costs €3, though most visitors simply admire the Gothic-Renaissance facade from outside. More rewarding is following the signed walking loop that links six historic masías (farmsteads) within a three-kilometre radius. Can Bonastre's stone threshing floor remains perfectly preserved, while Can Sors still presses olives using horsepower – literally, they bring in a pair of mules each December for demonstrations.

Forest Bathing Without the Crowds

British hikers expecting Lake District-style waymarking should recalibrate. Local trails follow centuries-old farm tracks, marked by faded yellow paint splashes that require actual concentration to spot. The ten-kilometre circular to Font de Sant Mateu starts behind the municipal swimming pool, climbing through holm oak forest to a natural spring where villagers still fill plastic bottles on Sunday mornings. Allow three hours including the inevitable chat with locals who'll insist you try their homemade ratafia liqueur.

More ambitious walkers can tackle the GR-5 long-distance path, which passes the village boundary after descending from Montseny's 1,700-metre peaks. The full traverse to the park's highest point, Turó de l'Home, demands 1,300 metres of ascent – doable as a day walk if you arrange transport to the Sant Bernat trailhead, 12 kilometres north by car.

Winter transforms these forests completely. January snow isn't guaranteed, but when it arrives, the village becomes a gateway for Catalan families who've never seen the Pyrenees. Local taxis offer fixed-price transfers to snow-lined walking routes at €25 return, though chains are essential when conditions worsen. Summer's the reverse: Barcelona residents arrive seeking shade, crowding the forest car parks by 10 am. Visit mid-week and you'll share the pine-scented trails only with wild boar and the occasional mushroom forager.

Eating Like Someone's Grandmother is Watching

British palates will appreciate La Perola, where the €18 menú del día includes proper chips alongside Catalan classics. Their grilled rabbit tastes like chicken's more interesting cousin, served with garlic and rosemary from the restaurant's garden. Vegetarians should order escalivada – smoky aubergine and pepper strips that arrive at room temperature, exactly as tradition demands.

Shaporem Gastrobar represents the village's younger face. Here, thirty-something chef Marc transforms grandmother's recipes into sharing plates: cod fritters with honey alioli, or pork cheek stewed in local porter beer. The international wine list includes English sparkling Nyetimber, though you'd be mad to ignore the Vallès cava. At €4 a glass, Ca n'Estella's brut nature outclasses most supermarket prosecco back home.

Monday presents problems. Every proper restaurant closes, leaving only Bar Central's basic sandwiches. Kitchen hours elsewhere remain rigidly Catalan: lunch 13:30-15:30, dinner 20:30-22:30. Arrive at 19:00 and you'll face locked doors, whatever Google claims about "continuous service".

Practicalities for the Unprepared

Getting here requires planning. Renfe trains from Barcelona's Plaça Catalunya reach Cardedeu in 40 minutes (€4.10 each way), but the connecting bus runs just twice daily. Taxis from Cardedeu station cost €12-15 – book ahead on weekends when drivers vanish into the hills. Driving's simpler: take the C-17 autopista, exit at Cardedeu, then follow signs for five kilometres on the BV-5102.

Parking around Plaça de l'Església is free but fills fast on Sunday market mornings. The fortnightly mercat artesanal packs up by 13:30, so early birds secure the best honey, olive oil and artisanal sausages. Bring cash – many stalls reject cards for purchases under €10.

Accommodation remains limited. Hostal Sant Antoni offers ten basic rooms above the bakery from €55 nightly, including coffee and a still-warm croissant delivered to your door at 8 am. Alternatively, Can Bonastre winery provides boutique rooms from €120, though you'll need transport to reach village restaurants.

When the Day-Trippers Depart

Late afternoon brings Sant Antoni's finest hour. Schoolchildren kick footballs beneath plane trees as elderly men argue over dominoes outside Bar Jovi. The setting sun catches Montseny's peaks, turning them the colour of burnt toffee. This is when you understand why Catalans speak of "fer poble" – literally "doing village" – the art of simply existing in communal space.

It's not picture-postcard Spain. Some houses need paint, the 19th-century manor on Carrer Nou stands semi-derelict, and teenagers gather by the fountain drinking beer from plastic glasses. Yet this authenticity increasingly rare in over-Instagrammed Catalonia makes Sant Antoni worth the detour. Come for the forest walks and mountain views, stay for the realisation that places still exist where tourism supports rather than defines local life.

Leave before 9 pm though. After dinner, the streets empty completely. Even the bakery shutters roll down, and Sant Antoni returns to being what it's always been: a village that happens to welcome visitors, not the other way round.