We headed for the mountains, an hour's train ride outside of Barcelona, with very little information to go on about what was there or what kind of climbing was available
, just that it was good. We bought a map, which indicated that there was some sort of campsite, so we bought a ton of food and fuel and crossed our fingers that we would be able to find water and a flat piece of ground. What we found was beyond all expecations - a campsite with not just water but hot showers, a great view, and hosts that were climbers and gave us detailed information on routes and how to get there. And just 5 minutes away, a beautiful monastery with all the amenities all of its visitors would want - specifically, coffee every morning.
Our campsite
Chris making dinner with the monastery behind.
Our tent, as (almost) seen from the monastery.
Some form of spiritual site has apparently been in these mountians for a long time, with the monastery being built almost a thousand years ago. It was amazing to be hiking around and coming across old statues and buildings and such all throughout the mountains, and even on top of them. There were hordes of tourists there every day but every evening the place cleared out and it was pretty much just us and the monks.
Montserrat also has a long history of climbing, with the current climbers having been taught there by their fathers. In one ‘refugio’, a little old church way up in the mountains that now houses climbers, there was climbing gear left over from some of the original climbers. They used chunks of wood shoved in the cracks to protect their falls. Yikes.
The climbing was like the best gym ever! The rock was ‘conglomerate’, so was all these chunks of different kinds of rocks all cemented together and sticking out into enormous hand and footholds, so we were able to climb some pretty overhanging stuff and still have lots to hold onto. (Agata, you would love it here!)
Finally, the sad day arrived when Chris had to leave the next morning. Many folks from the community at the base of the mountains and several of the monks came out for a good-bye fiesta at the monastery (and to celebrate Dia de St. Joan, which just happened to coincide).
We learned the ‘Sardana’, a traditional Spanish circle dance, and watched four year-olds set off fireworks.
There was talk of leaving with Chris or staying only a few more days, then heading for France and then Italy to climb but we decided that we like it here in Montserrat, and want to leave yet, so we are going to stay for another week, then fly directly to Venice.
We started doing some longer routes, and finished off with the spire which we had our eye on the whole time, called Cavall Bernat. 
We had to forego climbing it one day because some local climbers were setting up a 200m Tyrolean traverse between it and another nearby peak. The would hook themselves in on one peak and go whizzing most of the way to the other one, then haul themselves up the final bit of rope to the peak. Wa hoo
We learned that ‘Cavall’ means horse, which is fitting since Nelson rappelled down cowboy style.
