{"id":749264,"date":"2026-06-20T10:23:17","date_gmt":"2026-06-20T10:23:17","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/749264\/"},"modified":"2026-06-20T10:23:17","modified_gmt":"2026-06-20T10:23:17","slug":"why-catalonia-is-the-perfect-soft-cycling-adventure-for-2026","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/749264\/","title":{"rendered":"Why Catalonia is the perfect soft-cycling adventure for 2026"},"content":{"rendered":"

This article was produced by National Geographic Traveller (UK).<\/p>\n

From a distance it\u2019s not immediately clear where the rider ends and his bike begins. Silhouetted against the rising sun, the two merge in a symphony of sinewy, Lycra-clad limbs and range-topping carbon fibre. This cycling centaur stands at the viewpoint of the hilltop monastery taking in the sea of green below. He\u2019s clearly a pro \u2014 a not uncommon sight here in the northeastern corner of Catalonia. I, manifestly, am not. Joining him with my chunky e-bike and billowing jacket, I\u2019m greeted cursorily and then, with a click and a whirr, he\u2019s gone.<\/p>\n

He\u2019ll likely be tackling a training ride of several hours, perhaps into the foothills of the Pyrenees \u2014 discernible as a faint smudge in the far distance. My itinerary is considerably less demanding: a six-day, indulgently circuitous meander in the opposite direction, blending medieval hilltop towns with sparkling Costa Bravan coastline. I\u2019ll be averaging around 20 miles a day; my departed friend \u2014 and the peloton of elite riders who\u2019ll pass a little way west of here when Catalonia hosts the Tour de France\u2019s curtain-raising Grand D\u00e9part this summer \u2014 could probably knock that off in half an hour.<\/p>\n

I linger at the viewpoint, relishing the warmth of a sun that was still slumbering when I embarked on my battery-assisted climb half an hour before. As monasteries go, the Sanctuary of Our Lady of the Angels isn\u2019t much of a looker: pale, blocky, with faint echoes of a Victorian workhouse. Yet, given what it\u2019s endured over its six-century life span, the austere aesthetic can be forgiven.<\/p>\n

The monastery was looted in the 18th century during the War of Spanish Succession; torched\u00a0by French troops who besieged nearby Girona in the Peninsular War a century\u00a0later; then rebuilt and attacked again during the Spanish Civil War of the late 1930s. By the time Salvador Dal\u00ed, the region\u2019s most famous son, staged an uncharacteristically subdued wedding here in 1958, calm had been restored.<\/p>\n

\"Small<\/p>\n

The view from the Santuari de la Mare de D\u00e9u dels \u00c0ngels looks out over the forests of the Gavarres.<\/p>\n

Pete Goding<\/p>\n

\"Elephant<\/p>\n

P\u00fabol\u2019s Gala Dal\u00ed Castle has surrealist touches added by the artist.<\/p>\n

Pete Goding<\/p>\n

Through much of this turbulence, the view has remained largely unchanged. Waves of deep green radiate out in every direction \u2014 the oak and cork forests of the Gavarres, a protected, mountainous swath that extends from the city of Girona all the way to the placid coves and fishing villages of the Catalan coastline. The monastery\u2019s lone approach road weaves through the trees like a silvery-grey serpent in the undergrowth. I watch as the ribbons of mist gathered in the forested folds gently dissipate, then hop back on my bike and set off down the mountainside.<\/p>\n

Bastion of surrealism<\/p>\n

For Dal\u00ed\u2019s wedding, his Russian-born muse and bride to be, Gala, drove him to the Sanctuary of Our Lady of the Angels in a Cadillac. The outsized steel-blue vehicle is still parked at the castle \u2014 now a museum \u2014 in which she lived. Gala Dal\u00ed Castle is located in the village of P\u00fabol, around six miles away, and is my next stop. You might expect such a car to strike an incongruous note amid the towering plane trees and redoubtable stone walls of an 11th-century Catalan fortress. In fact, as I discover when I park my bike outside and join the steady flow of visitors entering the castle, it\u2019s entirely in keeping, thanks to its Dal\u00ed connection.<\/p>\n

The Tramuntana wind that surges down through the Pyrenees, airbrushing the region\u2019s cobalt skies of cloud and sharpening the outlines of the honey-coloured stone settlements, is said to inspire madness \u2014 and genius. Salvador Dal\u00ed straddled both camps, and having purchased the castle as a gift for Gala in 1969, the master of surrealism wasn\u2019t about to hold back. Within the castle grounds, I encounter 10ft-tall elephant sculptures teetering on spindly legs, trompe-l\u2019\u0153il ceilings and doors, and art works that include a faux medieval tapestry depicting monks worshipping a flaming giraffe. On display in one room is a chess set with silver-embossed pieces shaped like severed digits. Gala, who died in 1982, is interred in the basement crypt.<\/p>\n

As a key Dal\u00ed pilgrimage site, P\u00fabol lacks the sleepy authenticity of so many of the other settlements I encounter. Sant Jordi Desvalls, however, better fits this mould. My ride there \u2014 a few miles north \u2014 is enlivened by the delicate white flowers of sweet rocket lining the traffic-free lanes. Like many of the region\u2019s hilltop towns, Sant Jordi Desvalls appears hunched and inward looking on first impression \u2014 as if assuming the architectural brace position. There\u2019s a reason the towns of northeast Catalonia are laid out like this: defence. The region has been forged from faith and vigilance. For centuries, threats swirled around this strategically desirable, politically fragmented corner of the Iberian peninsula; if pirate raiders, rural bandits or rival feudal lords didn\u2019t clean you out, then sorties from across the French border surely would. Braced for anything, villages and towns of the area often feature a heavily fortified church with a watchtower in its bell tower. The subtext being: pray \u2014 but best keep an eye out, too.<\/p>\n

\"Cyclist<\/p>\n

Narrow streets and stone walls characterise towns like Sant Jordi Desvalls.<\/p>\n

Pete Goding<\/p>\n

But there\u2019s no need for such guardedness when I park up at Sant Jordi Desvalls in search of lunch provisions. The wood-fronted grocery store at the top of town is third-generation family-run. It\u2019ll be four if Albert Font, 39, ever commits to taking over from his 69-year-old mother, Isabel. He laughs as he tells me this, glancing over at Isabel, who sighs affectionately from behind the\u00a0till.<\/p>\n

Until the 1930s, the building was a much-prized cinema. \u201cThe whole village would turn out,\u201d Albert tells me. \u201cThen, once the film finished, the reel would be sped by motorbike to a meeting point midway between here and the neighbouring village and switched.\u201d Through such roguish ingenuity, the frugal villagers could save on costly rental fees.<\/p>\n

I depart the store with a pannier full of freshly baked bread and llonganissa (a slender, spiced regional variant of chorizo), which I eat in the shade of the imposing church as the clocktower clangs its way through an early afternoon hour.<\/p>\n

Air of mystery<\/p>\n

The beauty of unhurried cycling lies in its capacity for spontaneity. I\u2019m reminded of this as I\u2019m departing Sant Jordi Desvalls and my eyes are drawn to a barn-sized structure by the roadside. Stepping into the cool, I discover something between an art gallery, an antique store and a tapas bar. A dizzying assortment of sculptures, abstract paintings and furniture is assembled within, lit by slanting beams of light from small, high windows.<\/p>\n

Beneath a huge Warholian banana mounted on exposed brickwork stands co-owner Luis Mohedano. Relocating from Barcelona, the 64-year-old artist started Aire Arte with his partner Laura Sanchez, a local woman \u2014 they named it after their two chickens, she tells me. Dressed in a black wool top and jeans, with his cropped grey hair and stubble uniting around amiably creased features, Luis digs around in the back and brings out a slender bottle, no bigger than the type dessert wine comes in. It\u2019s sealed, with a woman\u2019s face and some words I can\u2019t discern painted cartoonishly on the outside. \u201cAire del siglo veinte,\u201d says Luis \u2014 \u201820th-century air\u2019. A mounted article from a Catalan newspaper elaborates, describing how the artist had 1,000 of the individually decorated bottles sealed and verified prior to the turn of the millennium, then kept them in storage over the intervening years. \u201cThe bottles sell for \u20ac60,000,\u201d Laura says, proudly. Lucrative art conjured literally out of thin air? Dal\u00ed would surely have approved.<\/p>\n

\"Empty<\/p>\n

The medieval hamlet of Madremanya glows the fierce gold of the wheat fields that encircle it.<\/p>\n

Pete Goding<\/p>\n

It\u2019s a flat, leisurely seven-mile ride back to Madremanya and the hotel in which I\u2019m based for the next two nights. I last saw the little medieval hamlet in the gloom of pre-dawn. Now, lit by a sinking sun, it glows the fierce gold of the wheat fields that encircle it. Windows are shuttered and the chunkily cobbled lanes are as silent as a pre-shootout scene in a Western. I briefly wonder whether I\u2019m not so much the only hotel guest as the village\u2019s sole occupant.<\/p>\n

But, come dinner, served in La Pla\u00e7a de Madremanya\u2019s low-slung vaulted stone restaurant, around half a dozen tables are lively with conversation interspersed with appreciative silence for the Catalan food. I order the creamy cannelloni filled with roast chicken and drizzled in a truffled b\u00e9chamel sauce, followed by a delectable crema catalana \u2014 a lighter, lemon-infused take on cr\u00e8me br\u00fbl\u00e9e.<\/p>\n

Thereafter, I find my cycling trip morphing into a food tour punctuated by the occasional outbreak of pedalling. Here, in a region lauded for its gastronomy, progress is measured in meals, not miles. Grilled rabbit skewers, foraged mushrooms and a glass of sweet local cava are sampled in Monells the next day. I\u2019m joined by 53-year-old Santi Puig and his 18-year-old daughter Jana, whom I find sitting outside their restaurant in the village centre, enjoying the lull after a busy weekend.<\/p>\n

Monells is film-set pristine \u2014 not a patch of stonework unscrubbed or flowering climbing plant untrained. The cinematic comparison proves apt: just over a decade ago, one of Spanish cinema\u2019s highest-grossing films was set here, a romantic comedy entitled Ocho Apellidos Catalans (\u2018Eight Catalan Surnames\u2019). It made a star of the village\u2019s focal Jaume I square, and the broad arched walkways and handsome, ivy-draped houses that enclose it.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis, officially, is one of the prettiest villages in Spain,\u201d declares Santi, wringing his pendulous beard. As a couple of cyclists kitted out in matching taupe Lycra and road bikes freewheel into the square, I ask Santi about the region\u2019s two-wheeled credentials and whether he\u2019s aware of the Tour de France\u2019s impending arrival. \u201cOf course,\u201d he says. \u201cThe sunshine, the mountains, the sea; this is cycling perfection.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"A<\/p>\n

Traditional Bisbalenc pastries are a speciality in La Bisbal d\u2019Empord\u00e0, the capital of Baix Empord\u00e0 county.<\/p>\n

Pete Goding<\/p>\n

A couple of miles south east of Monells lies La Bisbal d\u2019Empord\u00e0, the capital of Baix Empord\u00e0 county, in which the remaining days of my trip play out. Together with neighbouring Alt Empord\u00e0, this forms a corner of Catalonia to which locals feel a powerful attachment. Many I meet speak of being Empord\u00e0n first, Catalan second. Spanish, of course, trails a distant third.<\/p>\n

This sense of regional identity is manifested in distinct dishes and delicacies. I taste the latter at Pastisseria Sans \u2013 Bisbalenc as I\u2019m passing through Bisbal on day four. The bakery sits among the old kiln chimneys and ceramics shops on Avinguda de les Voltes and across the street from the handsome 19th-century stone arcade for which the thoroughfare is named. A row of identical, lantern-adorned arches longer than a football pitch lines the road. In the shaded, wind-warmed hinterland within, groups of old men sit around cafe tables earnestly engaged in the most important job of the day: inconsequential chatter.<\/p>\n

I watch them from the window of the pastisseria as I overindulge on Bisbalenc: a crumbly concoction of puff pastry, pine nuts, crunchy sugar and cabell d\u2019\u00e0ngel (angel\u2019s hair) \u2014 a sweet, stringy jam made from caramelised pumpkin fibres. Then I stroll through the labyrinthine streets of Bisbal\u2019s Ciutat Vella (\u2018old town\u2019) district as noisy pulses of jackdaws rise and fall from the 18th-century bell tower.<\/p>\n

\"Man<\/p>\n

Retired stockbroker Quim Alemany grows carrots in the countryside around Peratallada.<\/p>\n

Pete Goding<\/p>\n

\"Lots<\/p>\n

Tomatoes are a key locally grown ingredient in the region.<\/p>\n

Pete Goding<\/p>\n

Sleeping under the stars<\/p>\n

As I continue eastwards, the land opens out. Hedgerows and sinuous lanes give way to open road and farmland. Three miles east of Bisbal, I encounter Quim Alemany. Dressed in a waterproof jacket and trousers, he\u2019s using a pressure hose to clean a wheelbarrow of huge leeks at the roadside, the spray splintering the sunlight into a glistening halo.<\/p>\n

He smiles warmly from beneath a thick, greying moustache as I greet him. We get chatting and he enthusiastically talks me through the bounty around him: the leeks, which go to Bisbal market on a Friday; carrots in a rainbow of colours; cabbages; spring onions; and some of the dozens of varieties of tomato he grows, which, he insists proudly, are in demand as far south as Barcelona.<\/p>\n

Quim is no ordinary Catalan rural worker, it transpires. An \u201calmost retired\u201d investor specialising in US stocks and AI, he\u2019s rented the handful of acres that surround him to reconnect with the land of his birth. \u201cI\u2019ve worked all my life sitting in front of a screen,\u201d says the 65-year-old. \u201cNow, I work in the open air and I work for pleasure. It can be hard but every day I see the sun come up and in the late afternoon I see it set. It\u2019s good for the soul.\u201d<\/p>\n

He talks of Spain as a foreign country, and of\u00a0his pride in Catalonia \u2014 where his family have lived for more than a millennium. I ask him what he feels defines this part of the country. The fertile soil? The independence of spirit? \u201cHospitality,\u201d he says, with barely a pause. Tapping his heart, he adds: \u201cWe have it in here to welcome people. I think you\u2019re finding this, no?\u201d<\/p>\n

\"Close-up<\/p>\n

The hilltop town of Peratallada takes its name from the Catalan word for ‘carved stone’.<\/p>\n

Pete Goding<\/p>\n

\"Cyclist<\/p>\n

La Vermuteria is in Peratallada, a stout labyrinth of ivy-coated arches and slender passageways.<\/p>\n

Pete Goding<\/p>\n

Leaving my enlightened stockbroker to his leeks, I push on, with the hilltop towns of Peratallada and Pals my target. The former, a stout labyrinth of ivy-coated arches and slender passageways through which I carefully wheel my bike, takes its name from the Catalan for \u2018carved stone\u2019. The moniker is apt \u2014 in places it seems less a town, more an eruption of molten sandstone that\u2019s hardened over the centuries and become habitable.<\/p>\n

As I\u2019m departing, the wind picks up and I can detect the faint scent of sea in the air. The frothy fringe of Catalonia\u2019s coastline duly reveals itself from the summit square of Pals, a 15-minute ride east. The town is arranged in an elegant spiral with a narrowing corkscrew of cobbles that demands my e-bike\u2019s strongest setting to scale. Popping out at the lofty Pla\u00e7a de l\u2019Esgl\u00e9sia at the top of the town, I pull my bike on to its stand amid the cypress and olive trees and follow the sound of animated laughter to family-run El Pedr\u00f3.<\/p>\n

The restaurant commands a shaded backstreet near the pinnacle of the town. I take my place at one of the parasoled tables and mirror the menu choices of the multi-generational Catalan family next to me. Succulent snails, served with a tomato sauce and aioli, arrive. This is followed by an indulgent terra i mar (surf and turf) casserole the colour and texture of melted chocolate, bobbing with cuttlefish, prawns, braised beef and plump rice that\u2019s grown nearby.<\/p>\n

\"Path<\/p>\n

Tackling the steep cobbled streets of Pals is no easy feat for cyclists.<\/p>\n

Pete Goding<\/p>\n

Beyond sated, I tackle the eight postprandial miles to coastal Llafranc \u00ad\u2014 my final base \u2014 at a pace best described as geological. It\u2019s been a dozen years since I was last on the Costa Brava and I\u2019m apprehensive. Yet I\u2019m reassured to find all is as it was: the hand-painted fishing boats, hauled up on the sand; the whitewashed cottages gleaming in the sunshine; the precipitous cliffs and teetering pines entwined in their precarious union.<\/p>\n

At the advent of Spain\u2019s great costa holidaying experiment in the 1950s, landmark hotels such as mine \u2014 Llafranc\u2019s century-old Hotel Terramar \u2014 attracted A-listers such as Sophia Loren, Kirk Douglas and Elizabeth Taylor. Today, the little resort town, bookended by steep headlands barely half a mile apart, is refined rather than starry.<\/p>\n

I pedal through the umbrella pines on the seafront and past the dinky marina, and use the last bar of my e-bike battery to reach Far de Sant Sebasti\u00e0, a 19th-century lighthouse perched 560ft up on the town\u2019s northern promontory. The views up and down the neatly serrated coastline are as cheering as they are stirring, the imprint of civilisation effortlessly eclipsed by a deep-pile carpet of green.<\/p>\n

On my final morning I venture south, past the low-rise cubist houses of neighbouring Calella de Palafrugell and on to the wild Cap Roig peninsula. I\u2019m heading to Cala Estreta, a fabled beach a couple of miles beyond. It\u2019s some of the toughest cycling of the trip, as smooth asphalt gives way to a sandy cycle path veined with roots. At one point, I have to get off and push. But at length, I\u2019m greeted by a modest sign and a little bike rack.<\/p>\n

A shoulder-width path through the pines leads me to the water\u2019s edge and a perfect \u2018m\u2019 of interlocking sandy coves. They\u2019re stroked by\u00a0cyan waters so clear I can pick out individual pebbles from the depths. The beach is deserted but for a figure in a salt-encrusted white fedora. He leans against a makeshift driftwood bench, ankles crossed, hands behind head, staring out to sea. He has a\u00a0chalk-white beard and a manner of impregnable contentment.<\/p>\n

\"Sandy<\/p>\n

The sandy beach at Cala Estreta is backed by cliffs and pine trees.<\/p>\n

Pete Goding<\/p>\n

This is Francesc Cots; Quico, for short. A notable local figure, as it turns out. For the past 15 years, Quico has lived on the beach, bedding down on the sand, or in the southern corner in an old fisherman\u2019s hut with a vaulted brick ceiling. The 62-year-old lives off unsolicited donations of food, water or a few euros from locals and travellers passing through \u2014 trusting in the region\u2019s benign climate and generosity of spirit to get by.<\/p>\n

Quico offers me a coffee and I join him on the sand. He tells me about the all-pervading peace and the nights when he sits, mouth agape, beneath what he describes as a \u201cdome of thousands of stars\u201d. He\u2019s relegated the rapacious materialism of 21st-century life to an irrelevance, and it\u2019s hard not to feel a pang of envy.<\/p>\n

Loneliness never troubles him, he insists. \u201cHere,\u201d he says, swinging his arm in an arc that encompasses forest and beach, sea and sky. \u201cHere, I have everything I need.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cycling trips for beginnersWhere to start<\/p>\n

Cycling trips can be a rewarding way to widely explore a region while still immersing yourself in its culture and cuisine \u2014 but choose with care. Most itineraries will be badged according to the strenuousness of the terrain and\/or distances; go for \u2018easy\u2019 or \u2018moderate\u2019 as a beginner and consider the e-bike option even if you\u2019re a seasoned cyclist. It\u2019s better to have the power at your disposal and not need it than vice versa \u2014 particularly in hilly landscapes. <\/p>\n

How to prepare<\/p>\n

Only consider bringing your own bike if you\u2019re fastidious about your set-up or are driving to the destination and well versed in transferring bikes. It\u2019s costly and stressful to fly with one, while bike space on trains is usually meagre and oversubscribed. Take a puncture repair kit and know how to use it. If possible, rent a GPS unit with preloaded routes, as this is preferable to reading from route notes. Safety gear is essential: bring a helmet and reflective gear as a minimum, to make yourself conspicuous on narrow rural or mountain roads.<\/p>\n

What to expect<\/p>\n

Catalonia\u2019s cycle-friendly reputation is well deserved. The climate ensures year-round biking is a pleasure \u2014 spring and autumn have optimal temperatures and fewer crowds. Surfaces are well maintained and motorists are generally understanding. Most cafes and bars will be happy to fill your water bottles, which you should do at every opportunity. Cycling-themed cafes, often offering mechanical assistance, are also springing up all the time, and hotels and guesthouses commonly offer secure storage. <\/p>\n

How to do itFor northeastern Catalonia, the nearest airports are Girona and Barcelona, both of which are served by regular flights from London and regional airports such as Manchester. The flight time is around two hours. Inntravel<\/a> offers a six-night, self-guided cycling trip through rural and coastal Catalonia, with various dates from April to October, from \u00a31,345 per person. The price includes half-board accommodation, bike hire, luggage transfer and maps. E-bike hire is an additional \u00a394 per person for the week. Excludes flights.<\/p>\n

This story was created with the support of Inntravel<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Published in the June 2026 issue by National Geographic Traveller (UK).<\/p>\n

To subscribe to\u00a0National Geographic Traveller\u00a0(UK) magazine click here<\/a> (available in select countries only).<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"This article was produced by National Geographic Traveller (UK). From a distance it\u2019s not immediately clear where the…\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":749265,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[445],"tags":[268011,268003,268019,268013,268008,268016,49,48,134178,268018,635,268004,268005,170091,268017,268015,51741,268009,82,268012,268014,268006,268010,268007],"class_list":["post-749264","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-cycling","tag-best-attractions-catalonia","tag-best-cycling-holidays-in-europe","tag-best-cycling-trip-spain","tag-best-food-in-catalonia","tag-best-road-trip-catalonia","tag-best-towns-in-spain","tag-ca","tag-canada","tag-catalonia","tag-catalonia-holidays","tag-cycling","tag-cycling-holiday-spain","tag-peratallada","tag-salvador-dali","tag-short-spain-trips","tag-small-towns-in-catalonia","tag-spain-holidays","tag-spain-road-trips","tag-sports","tag-things-to-do-catalonia","tag-ultimate-guide-to-catalonia","tag-visit-pals","tag-visit-salvador-dali-sites","tag-where-to-go-in-catalonia"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/749264","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=749264"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/749264\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/749265"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=749264"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=749264"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=749264"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}