Leaving the big catalan city, heading north

Leaving the big catalan city, heading north

olaf
City, Mountains, Roadtrip
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It was time to step away from the city routine and back onto the road. Northbound this time. Further south would have been tempting, originally even planned, but some ideas don’t survive contact with calendars. Not on this trip. Our next destination was Andorra.

Getting out of Barcelona took about an hour, mostly because the city prefers farewells that involve detours. We threaded our way through the small streets and handsome houses of Gràcia, then climbed through the one-way chaos around Park Güell, steadily gaining height and perspective. The city thinned out, the inland hills took over, and the temperature climbed with quiet confidence.

We tried the motorway for a while, but Spain has a very self-assured idea of toll pricing. After a brief calculation and a longer look at the signs, we escaped back onto the country roads. Andorra was already signposted, surprisingly clear, considering Spanish signage can be more interpretive than directive. The landscape made up for everything. Rock formations slid past on both sides, sculpted, layered, unapologetically solid.

The heat peaked around 32 degrees. Then the road dropped into a wide valley with a reservoir: steep rock faces, bright sun, deep blue water, saturated green slopes. One of those scenes that almost feels too composed, until a power station quietly reintroduces reality. We kept heading straight toward the rock wall, which turned out not to be the end of the road but the beginning of a four-kilometer tunnel. Six euros later, we emerged on the other side into something that felt like a large-scale Black Forest, familiar, but amplified.

The last Spanish towns passed by, more villages than cities now. A soft, unceremonious goodbye. Mucho gusto, España. Our paths will cross again, especially with the Catalan capital. Cities like that don’t really let go.

Ahead: mountains, borders, and a different rhythm altogether.