Travel
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Montserrat Natural Park is within day trip distance from Barcelona, and can be reached with easy public transport connections.
It is a place of great natural beauty and also has much religious significance.
| "Life
is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away." |
It is odd how sometimes vague whispers heard about a place can turn into treasured travel experiences. Such was the case for me with Montserrat.
Before travelling to Spain I had read a little about Montserrat. In the Catalonia Tourist Office (in Barcelona), my request for more information was kindly met with several colourful brochures and detail about getting there by public transport. A quick glance at the brochure photographs was enough for me to know that Montserrat was the sort of place I would enjoy wandering around.
On the morning of Friday 17 January, 2003 I took the metro to Pl Espanya, then the train to Montserrat-Aeri. When we arrived at the cable car station there was initially some disappointment as the cable car was not running in the off-season. But the bus trip proved an adventure as we wound our somewhat treacherous route up a steep winding road, with ice and snow from the recent snowfall still visible in places.
Where we parked the bus, there were shrines that immediately made clear the monastic connections with this mountain. There was a large memorial to monks who had died as a result of the Civil War, a wound still remembered in the Spanish soul.
My first impressions of Montserrat were not all that favourable. There was beauty all around me, but there was also huge construction going on, and the noise was overwhelming. A new cog railway for improved access to the mountain was being built.
I passed by it and headed up into the monastery church. Like so many other churches in Spanish Catholicism, its decoration was ornate and splendid. I decided to follow the well-trodden passage up to see the revered Madonna behind the altar, feeling somewhat unsure of my own motives. When I arrived at the narrow alcove where the statue stood, I found a young couple standing there, clearly distressed and needing to remain. I felt like an intruder in the presence of real pray-ers and quickly left.
At 1pm boys from the famed choir school were to perform and I waited to hear them. The monastery bell tolled loudly to announce their singing. A fairly small group sang, accompanied by organ, and I listened, enveloped in the wonderful sound they produced.
But the best part of the day still lay waiting to surprise me. I took the Funicular St Joan on its steep journey up the mountainside, and emerged from the continuous construction noise below, into a place of silence. The glory of Montserrat was all about me. A profusion of unusual conical peaks stood out against a blue sky. Natural beauty held me in awe.
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| If you want to learn more about the monastery, here is its official site. |
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Montserrat
from just above the Funicular St Joan station
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From the funicular station, I first took a wide path uphill, and the views became even more spectacular. Next I followed the path along to the Hermitage of St Joan. The hermitage was shut and deserted, but stood as a poignant reminder of the history of religious dedication on Montserrat.
Returning downhill, I took the Santa Cova funicular, and emerged onto a much more shady and cold part of the massif. A path led down past many devotional sculptures where the hand of Gaudi was evident. I began to guess at the inspiration for his "chimney shapes", as I saw in them a resemblance to the natural peaks here in Montserrat.
The path led on down to a chapel where a Madonna stood in a cave blackened by smoke. Inside, several young men were praying devoutly. I sat quietly behind them for a while, before passing into the rest of the small basilica. A room was festooned with baby clothes and other objects. Presumably people prayed in this place to have children, or for the healing of children. In the pilgrim's book I made a note asking prayer for those of us brought up Catholic, who feel an indefinable "tug" in such places where we no longer properly belong.
The shorter days of winter meant that I had to quickly walk back uphill from the chapel in time to catch the last funicular and bus. I left the mountain reluctantly, its secrets so briefly encountered.
There was a sense of camaraderie amongst the tourists returning to Barcelona on the train that evening: a feeling of beauty shared and a special place experienced.
The next day, Saturday, saw me exploring some more of the treasures of the city of Barcelona. A real highlight was the Palau de la Musica Catalana, with its stained glass dome glorious above the auditorium. Such an intimate, warm and welcoming venue in which to enjoy choral music. How wonderful it would be to sing there as part of a choir, with the audience so comfortable and closely present.
Barcelona
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also spent quite some time exploring the Sagrada Familia church, magnificent
with Gaudi's revolutionary tree-shaped columns soaring up. The spires
reminded me immediately of the peaks of Montserrat. It was such a
privilege to be walking within a cathedral under construction for
so many years, as happened in centuries past. The revolutionary architectural
spirit of Gaudi and his spiritual yearnings were still alive in the
building of today.
The next day, Sunday, was my last day exploring on the continent of Europe before I returned home to the Antipodes. There were still "important" places in Barcelona that I hadn't visited, like the Picasso museum. But as I thought about what to do on my "last day", I felt a real longing to return and explore more of Montserrat. I realised that although I was fascinated by important cultural treasures, being in landscapes such as that of Montserrat drew me more. Sunday morning saw me again leaving Barcelona for Montserrat by train. This time the cable-car was running, and it became obvious that Sunday was a day for the Catalan populace to enjoy their mountain. As
I arrived up by the monastery, celebratory peals of the bells were
loudly ringing out for Mass at 11am. Although I have not been a
practising catholic for many years, the bells seemed to be urgently
summoning all into the church, and I almost guiltily climbed into
the funicular to go higher up the mountain. But I was not alone,
and many locals were dressed for some "serious" Sunday
climbing and walking. Back at the funicular station, I read track descriptions as I contemplated where to walk next. The track for Sant Jeroni was a popular choice for other walkers, but the description did say "very steep stretches". I decided to follow the locals anyway and try out the track. I was soon in bush and enjoying new views of yet more conical peaks. Before long I came to a place with a beautiful view back down the valley to the monastery. Many flowers had been strewn down the steep cliffside at this point, including a couple of fresh red roses. I had noticed a well-dressed woman, with a man, carrying these on the cable-car and funicular. I added my thoughts to whatever prayers had accompanied her when she threw these flowers down, gazing at the monastery. I kept walking along the bush track, not finding any "steep stretches", and being greeted warmly with the Catalan "Bon Dia" or what sounded like "Haloandia" all along the way. I arrived at the small, closed Sant Jeroni chapel to find many eating lunch on the ground nearby so I joined them. While sitting, I noticed walkers going to/from another track and I next headed in that direction. Soon the "steep stretches" were in view, but so too was the summit. It had been many years since I had stood at the summit of Mt Egmont in the province of my birth, but I knew that taking it slowly I could also reach this new, very visible summit easily enough. At the top, I joined several Catalan family groups, ecstatic to be standing together on the summit despite the cold. A toddler was there with his mother and a baby was in a backpack. Suddenly a group of "proper" climbers appeared from the other direction. Roped together, they had been climbing the steep conical chimneys to reach this point. They had obviously exerted themselves, and were immensely happy with their achievement, jumping all over each other with joy. I think I was the only English speaker, and it was strange to be in such a beautiful place, surrounded by so many, but not able to share words about the beauty! Montserrat
has been a special place for the people of Catalonia for centuries.
I felt blessed to have shared just a small part of its mysteries
and beauty. |
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