From Lake to Summit and Back Again: Banyoles to Mare de Déu del Mont via Besalú
We set off from Banyoles early. The lake was still half in shadow, the surface glassy and quiet. One of those mornings where everything feels a little suspended. Cool air, barely a sound. Just the hum of wheels and a sense of something ahead.
I (Julian) had done this climb before. More than once, actually. But not in a while, two years maybe. Long enough that it didn’t feel familiar, just… known. Like a place you used to visit often but haven’t thought about in ages. Eva, on the other hand, hadn’t ridden Mare de Déu del Mont at all. Which added a layer of quiet anticipation, maybe even a little tension. In a good way.
We rolled through Esponellà on soft legs. Early enough that the roads felt like ours alone. Conversation came easily, broken up only by stretches of calm. The terrain at this point is forgiving. Almost too forgiving. The kind of riding that lulls you into forgetting what’s coming. This is exactly what was coming.
Once we approached the climb, the ride shifted. Not just the road, but the mood. You feel it in your shoulders first, that subtle tightening. the. You get really excited for the effort that’s about to begin.
“I thought I was managing well. Then I looked up at my hammerhead and saw 15% and it just kept going.”
The road to Mare de Déu del Mont is unrelenting in its own quiet way. It doesn’t punch. It drags. Twists. Gradients that come and go without warning. I knew this rhythm, it came back to me. The switchbacks still bite but in a way that the legs remembered. The long, exposed sections still ask the same questions of your legs too.
For Eva, each turn was new. Each stretch of road a fresh unknown. There’s something strangely honest about that kind of effort — when you’re not comparing it to past experiences, just taking it as it comes.
The top arrived without ceremony. No fanfare, just that open sweep of sky and the quiet hush of altitude. The chapel stood still. The Pyrenees hung far off in the haze, layers of blue and grey like brushstrokes you forgot were real.
A walk through to the cafe and your just in awe of the architecture, everything is like time went back and stood still.
However we needed to refuel and pressed up stairs for a disappointing Pepsi as Cola Normal doesn’t seem to be a thing…
The view from the top of the terrace is just insane though, one you’ll savour. Although a hazy day really doesn't do it justice.
“I didn’t think I’d enjoy the descent. I was right it’s not the best to rush down. the road is rough and steep.” - Eva
We descended carefully, letting the road come to us. The light had shifted, sharper now. Hotter. And somewhere along the way, a bit of laughter returned After Julian overcooked it on a corner. Something about how climbs always seem shorter on the way back, even when they’re not.
Besalú, this time on the return, offered a kind of reward. Not a finish line, but a reset. We rolled slowly through town, weaving past cafés and quiet courtyards.
The last stretch back to Banyoles felt easier than expected. Tired, yes. But light. That sort of tired that settles in nicely, you have to take the main road on a loop so it’s not the most fulfilling but it’s fast.
On return to Banyoles we had the thought I’d doing Rocacorba but we opted for a boc instead, I’d still agree it was the right choice.
Post-Ride Thoughts (and maybe some advice)
Julian: Even if you’ve done this climb before, don’t trust your memory. It’s steeper than you remember.
Eva: I didn’t know what to expect, and maybe that helped. It made every part feel earned.
Bring plenty of water. Especially in summer. but you can get food and drink at the top.
Besalú is worth slowing down for. Coming back through it was one of the highlights.
Don’t rush the descent. Not because it’s beautiful but it’s dangerous and gravel stones in sections as it’s used for tire grip in winter for cars.
Riding together, even quietly, makes the hard parts softer.
Would we do it again? Absolutely. Not every weekend, but definitely again.