This Journey Through Catalonia Could Be One of the World’s Most Beautiful Hikes
A solo walk in north-eastern Spain rewards with beautiful landscapes, generous meals and friendships made along the way.
Chanel the chihuahua cocks her head at me in confusion. I know her well enough now – we met two hours ago – to realise that I must be heading the wrong way. I rejoin her beside the refuge of Cogullons, where we both take a moment to admire the view. We’re standing more than 1000 metres above sea level, surrounded by forested gorges and the dramatic red sandstone escarpments and plateaux of the Prades Mountains.
It’s day one of my hike in southern Catalonia, Spain, and I’m following a stunning and occasionally challenging route devised by British-based On Foot Holidays. They put in all the legwork, so to speak, to equip hikers like me with every imaginable piece of practical information, including detailed written walking instructions complete with approximate timings, as well as digital and physical maps. They also book hotels and dinners and organise luggage transfers.
On Foot staffer Harriet Letherbarrow, just back from completing this very walk, kindly emailed me her tips before I set off, including a note to make sure no dogs follow me. Oops.
The week-long itinerary – I’m tackling an abridged four-day version – traces timeworn trading and monastic paths through the mountains to the prized vines of Montsant and Priorat. Great wine and food are a given around here and my accommodation is in handpicked lodgings, such as Mas de l’Arlequí, a 230-year-old, ivy-clad farmhouse on the outskirts of Rojals, where I begin my walk.
My first taste of the region and the arrangements could scarcely be more promising. My warm, generous hosts, Ana and Alvar, have created a small paradise among the oak trees, about 130 kilometres west of Barcelona. After a tour of the house, Alvar leads me along a heath-scented track to the edge of a monumental escarpment furnished with deck chairs, where guests can catch cinematic sunsets and, on a clear day, see Mallorca outlined on the horizon. I feel like a god up here.
There are six other hikers staying, four friends from Canada and a couple from Colorado. I’m walking solo as a challenge, to test my capabilities, but there’s comfort in knowing that for the first couple of days I won’t be completely alone.
I wake at Mas de l’Arlequí to hear an owl hoot in the 7am darkness. It’s late autumn and, despite the short days, ideal walking conditions. Daytimes are warm and nights cool, and the woods are lively with locals foraging for mushrooms – particularly rovellons (Lactarius deliciosus). Alvar cautions me against foraging for myself: “There are some mushrooms you can eat only once.”
Fuelled by a big breakfast of cheeses, meats, freshly baked apple cake and coffee, and armed with a picnic lunch from Ana, I start off sensibly by tailing the Canadians, cross-checking our movements with my notes to orient myself. Gradually I fall into step beside them – and the jaunty little hound they picked up along the way – and discover they’ve just done an On Foot walk on the England/Wales border. I quiz them about how to tackle maps and apps and by the time we part an hour later (I leave them poring over some Neolithic rock art), I feel more confident about the days ahead. Plus, their furry friend has adopted me so instead of a bouncing blue dot, I follow a bouncy golden dog.
I discover later from Alvar that Chanel is the neighbour’s pet. She often attaches herself to hikers and knows this trail intimately. It’s likely no surprise to her, after sharing my tortilla roll for lunch, that we part ways when the track drops down a cliffside too daunting for her tiny legs to navigate. She cries pitifully as I wave a sorrowful goodbye and thank her for helping me to find my feet.
This journey can be many things to many people. It’s bookended by the stately monasteries of Poblet and Escaladei and traces stone-walled ways trod by monks for centuries along the base of Montsant, the Holy Mountain. Those looking for a spiritual or religious alternative to the Camino might find it here on the Cami dels Cartoixans, “the way of the monasteries”. For nature-lovers there are magnificent, diverse landscapes and for hedonists there’s Catalan gastronomy – proudly local and seasonal – and the elite wines of Priorat. Dog-lovers won’t be disappointed either.
Walking days are long, usually between five and eight hours and at least 13 kilometres, at times gruelling but always exhilarating. I tramp through forests of oak and pine, along pathways fragrant with wild rosemary and thyme and traverse hillside vineyards carpeted in wild rocket flowers. Several times each day I pause to take in the enormity of a view – often soaring mountains and plunging canyons – and exclaim “Wow!” or “Oh my god!” to no-one because there’s rarely anyone in earshot.
The scenery is punctuated with medieval stone villages etched into mountainsides that accentuate the beauty of their surroundings: tiny La Morera sitting above a natural amphitheatre embroidered with hazelnut orchards and vines; ridgetop Bellmunt, where I feast on bocadillo and beer overlooking terraced hills of carignan and grenache; and the extraordinary sight of Siurana, a sandstone citadel that was the Arabs’ final stronghold in Catalonia, suspended in the air like a fantasy realm come to life.
At day’s end there’s always a bath and a bed waiting in characterful accommodation – including a converted 18th-century mayoral mansion in Cornudella de Montsant and a small vineyard hotel in the grape mecca of Gratallops – as well as memorable meals. In Prades, I dine like a prince on duck cannelloni in Pedro Ximénez sauce with a hint of truffle (they thrive in the hazelnut orchards here). At El Palauet in Cornudella the following evening, owner Dolors Sendra spoils me with a dégustation of olive oils and local wines and a hearty menu of everything in season. “Most people come here to know the nature and the wine,” she tells me. “These are good reasons.”
In Gratallops (“wolves scratching”) I try fine Priorat vintages at the pioneering Clos Figueras winery then, at its offshoot Slate Wine Bar, enjoy rustic food and hyperlocal wines, including a rare grape, grown only here, known as escanyavella or “choke the old lady” for its tough skin and astringent fruit. Like everything I taste on this adventure, it’s delicious.
At the end of the walk, I join its architect, Joanna Thomas, for dinner at Lotus Priorat hotel. Sipping a white grenache blend made by the same family for 10 generations, she explains how she pulled the itinerary together by weaving historical paths through changing landscapes and wine styles. “It’s so wild and full of history and culture,” she says. “I’m sure I’ve designed the most beautiful walk in the world.” After the glorious time I’ve had, it’s difficult to disagree.
