Mountains: Montserrat and San Cristobal

I love a good view, and the best places to find them is normally on the top of a large hill or mountain. In this post, I am going to talk about two of my favourite mountainous experiences: Montserrat in Barcelona and San Cristobal in Lima. They are two very different places set on almost opposite sides of the world, with very different views to be seen from the top.

Montserrat

Montserrat translates as ‘serrated mountain’ in Catalan and to look at it, it’s easy to see why. Instead of being one continuous mass of land, it is a collection of peaks of varying height. The tallest of these peaks is Sant Jeroni, which I climbed with a group of other international students in February 2015. I was living on the UAB campus at the time, and one of the benefits of living on said campus was that there were several opportunities to go on excursions around the city, Catalunya and even to Morocco. The only excursion I attended was climbing Montserrat; I discovered that whilst I had fun, big group activities perhaps aren’t my thing.

We left about 8 o’clock in the morning and took a coach to the base of the mountain, approximately an hour away from the UAB campus in Bella Terra. I didn’t know anyone before that day, but I met a student from Poland and one from the United States on the coach – who also knew no one - and walked with them I walked for most of the trip. It is a fairly good chance to bond, partially because you have achieved something together but largely because you end up sharing a mutual exhaustion by the end of the day.

At the base of the mountain, there is a small market selling local cheeses, honeys, nougat and candied nuts. You will also find a monastery with an impressive basilica, which is worth a visit. If you are lucky, it will be a quiet day so you can appreciate the architecture, decoration and flickering light from the votive candles in peace. If you are unlucky, a hoard of young tourists (on the day I went, it was the group of Canadian and American students also on my trip) will be loud, disrespectful and more focused on taking group selfies than learning or observing anything.

(At the base of the mountain, outside the abbey)

From the base, there is a funicular which can take you a good way up the hill. We didn’t take it, choosing to make life hard for ourselves and climb up the whole way. At this point, I was glad to go in February, since the chill soon dissolved with walking. There were several viewpoints on the way up, often complete with crosses or crucifixes. These points allow you to see different perspectives of rolling hills, other mountains, dusty rock and lush greenery, as well as the ever-changing shadows sprawling across the landscape. The climb up took about three hours, growing steadily steeper the more I climbed. Fortunately, the air was refreshing and there were a couple of sites of interest to break up the climb. For example, a small dilapidated chapel stood about halfway up, allowing for the brief reprieve from trekking to look around it and take arty photos of the disrepair against the natural beauty of the scenery ... yes, I like photography. Other nice photographic subjects were the several (presumably stray) cats which appeared along the route and provided comfortably quiet company whilst we ate our packed lunches.

(One of the mountain's cats posing on a wall)

Finally, after walking and occasionally scrabbling up to the top, we hit the bottom of stone steps which lead to the very peak. My advice if you can control what time you visit Montserrat is the earlier the better, so as to avoid crowds on the relatively small platform. This point offers a 360-degree view of the Catalan countryside, which takes on an otherworldly aspect in the absence of buildings, roads and vehicles. The earth rises and falls, undulating and casting long shadows over the valleys. Even as someone who tends to prefer cityscapes, I found the views really striking – a part of the land that appeared almost untouched by man. It helped that the day was crisp and clear, the sun highlighting every feature with a backdrop of uninterrupted blue skies.

(Views from the top ... and me)

After sufficient time to breathe in the mountain air, take photographs, observe the views from every angle, and actually just sit down for a little while, so began the inevitable descent. Despite taking two hours, one hour less than the climb up, I actually found it rather harder. The journey back isn’t as simple as just following the same route you took up, but from a point weaves back down the other side of the mountain. The journey consists partially of steps (lots and lots of steps, if I remember correctly someone referred to it as the ‘mil pasos’, or thousand steps); this bit sounds easy, but after a few hundred steps you begin to realise that actually it works totally different muscles to the ones you have been using to get up the mountain. The remaining sections of the way down mostly consist of natural ground, complete with ice, tree roots, stones and a couple of short but almost vertical steep declines. About two hundred yards away from the base, I did have a slight doubt I would actually make it when I came across one of these almost-right angles covered in long grass. Perhaps you are considerably more coordinated than I am, but I fall over a lot and I fall hard. Of course, I had to suck it up and essentially skid down like some sort of lizard on a sand dune, but it was scary and it was only the fear of losing what little dignity I have that prevented me from shuffling down on my backside. As you can tell, I lived to stretch out my legs and tell the tale.

In the hours afterwards, you will ache a bit. For the next couple of days, standing up and sitting down will prove almost impossible. Getting out of bed to go to class will not feel worth the effort. But having climbed the mountain on a gloriously sunny day, that was worth every second – and every shredded muscle.

San Cristobal

The journey up and down San Cristobal is somewhat easier, if only physically. Located just outside of Lima, you can catch a small bus from the historic centre of the city, on the corner of a church five minutes away from the Plaza de Armas. Unfortunately, I can’t remember the name at present, but if it comes to me when I lay awake at three o’clock in the morning, I will let you know. For the equivalent of about £5, you can get a return bus ride to and from the top of the mountain, with a guide offering explaining a bit about it during the journey. The drive isn’t particularly far, although from the base of the mountain to its peak, what it lacks in distance in makes up for in terrifying hairpin turns on the barrier-free edge of the road.

On the journey, you travel through what are essentially shanty towns, a very poor area of the city. Stray dogs roam the streets, the walls of which are painted a host of bright colours; buildings are built almost on top of one another, creeping up the mountainside. They looked as if they would simply fall apart in high winds, the rainbow hues cheering up the hastily and cheaply put-together constructions. The roads, as I mentioned, were narrow and would probably never pass a health and safety check, a pretty much vertical drop threatening at every bend. By the time we reached the top, my legs were like jelly and I don’t think I had taken a breath for about four minutes. But then, there we were.

(On the route up)

Since our excursion took place in September, late into the Peruvian winter, the view was initially hazy with the thick fog which shrouds the city in the colder months, but after a while the sun did come out of its hiding place. In fact, I think it was the first sunny day I had seen since arriving. This changed the tone of the scenery quite a bit: the city seemed considerably more optimistic and open, and lost the claustrophobic edge the fog could sometimes instil.

(Standing above the city)

What I find so striking about the view from the top of San Cristobal is the contrast. You can see sprawling shanty towns like the one I described above, whilst further towards the sea there were the shining, sharp-edged skyscrapers of Miraflores and the other wealthy districts of the city. Lima is a city of stark contrasts: the rich and the very poor; the pre-fab flats and the Spanish-influenced houses of Barranco; the beautiful Costa Verde with its roaring ocean, and the run-down urban streets of Pueblo Libre. From the peak of San Cristobal, you can see that contrast represented in its architecture, in how the city is laid out before you. The view itself is fantastic; what you begin to learn from it is both fascinating and slightly shocking. 

(Dogs at the top of the mountain)

With regard to what can be found at the top of the hill, there is a large statue of a cross, which apparently is lit up after dark, a small shop, a couple of dogs and many cacti. The best reason to go there really is the view – and, in my experience, making friends. I was invited by another international student who had just arrived in the city and was studying at the same university as I was. That day, we survived what I still consider to be the near-death experience of getting to the peak and back, appreciated and discussed the view, took some photos, and ended the trip with lunch and a beer back in the city centre. A good day, and I didn’t ache for a week afterwards!      

Montserrat and San Cristobal are different in almost every way: one offers vast natural views, whilst the other shows off a city scape to striking effect. One requires a trek, the other can be accessed by a (terrifying) bus. I visited one with a large group, and the other with just one person who became a great friend during our months of studying together. But as different as they are, what they have in common is that they both impress and both leave you with some fantastic memories and hopefully some great photos, too!

(La ciudad es nuestra - the city is ours!)

Photo gallery