Three weeks, countless memories. From wandering ancient fortresses in the quiet of night to moments of kindness from strangers, our road trip through Southern France and Northern Spain was packed with the unexpected. Each stop — whether a hidden gem or a spontaneous adventure — added a new chapter to our story.
An itinerary map of our road trip for context.
Here are the highlights that still linger in our minds.
Trip Highlights: 24 Days of Moments That Still Live in Our Heads
Fireworks Over Ujué – Light in the Quiet
Our night in Ujué, Navarra, felt suspended between centuries. The town itself seems carved out of the hill — cobbled lanes winding between stone walls, doors barely higher than your shoulder, the smell of wood smoke drifting through the alleys. We arrived just as evening swallowed the last daylight and parked the van below the old fortifications. There wasn’t a soul in sight.
We wandered through the heritage area until the only open bar, which closed not long after, our footsteps echoing off medieval arches. From the top, looking out over the plains at 10 pm, we saw distant fireworks blooming over the valley near Olite.
It was one of those still, improbable moments that feel like travel itself is rewarding you for being patient.
And patience was needed the next day as our little one became sick, but that’s a tale for another day.
Fog and Faith in Roncesvalles
The Pyrenean fog that greeted us the next morning wasn’t a drizzle or a cloud; it was an atmosphere. Roncesvalles looked like something out of a legend — all beech, fir, birch, maple, and oak trees, wet leaves, and muted bells. We had spent the previous evening in a welcoming pilgrims’ dining room, sharing a simple €14 menu: soup, pasta, trout, wine, bread. Around us were people from everywhere — Korea, Germany, Argentina, the States — most walking the Camino.
That dinner was more than food. It was a quiet communion with strangers who would start walking at dawn, while we continued by road. The next morning, when the fog rolled in thick and the forest swallowed the road ahead, we understood why people call this stretch sacred. You don’t see the path; you feel it.
Lourdes – A Techno Cathedral of Faith?
Beneath Lourdes, the underground chapel offers a serene and sacred retreat for reflection and prayer.
Lourdes is a paradox — faith and commerce, devotion and spectacle, ancient ritual and modern sound system. Pilgrims shuffle toward the grotto, filling the air with murmured prayers and the soft flicker of thousands of candles. But what truly struck us was underground: the Basilica of St. Pius X, a colossal concrete chamber buried beneath the earth, capable of holding 25,000 people.
It felt like a spiritual velodrome, vast and echoing. The lights pulsed gently, the air hummed, and somewhere in the distance, organ music from a parade that was taking place outside. It was equal parts reverent and surreal — like a techno festival for the devout. We left dazed, somewhere between belief and disbelief, and rolled south toward the mountains again.
Gerber Lake and the Witch Path – Magic and Mud
We spent three days in Val d’Aran. On the last day, we set out early to reach the Gerber Lakes, tucked high among granite slopes. The first one — Estanyola de Gerber — was a perfect mirror surrounded by silence so deep it rang in your ears. The trail leading up there grew rocky, too steep for a toddler’s small boots and fitness, so one of us stopped midway without regret.
That’s the rule of travel with a child: you don’t conquer; you adapt. And often, the smaller victories — reaching one lake, finding a smooth stone, watching clouds curl over a ridge — are the ones that stay with you.
The day before, between Vielha and Baqueira, we found Tredós’ Camí de les Bruixes, the Witch Path — a short woodland trail dotted with carved figures and legends from local folklore.
The Tredòs Witch Path is a 2 km family-friendly trail through forested scenery with carved “witch” figures and a small waterfall.
Our daughter ran ahead, stopping carefully near the wooden witches and their huts, asking questions about every one. It was one of the simplest walks of the trip, and one of the most magical.
The Unexpected Kindness of Montgarri
Montgarri, in the Catalonian Pyrenees.
Montgarri sits at the end of a long gravel road in the Baqueira Beret skiing domain that seems to go nowhere. We hiked there, hopeful, with Asia on her 3-wheeled kids’ scooter, following a river through meadows and shepherd huts. However, when it was time to get back, we realized it’d all turn dark during our return.
Getting to Pla de Beret from Montgarri
I started asking visitors if they’d be going back to el Pla de Beret (Beret plains) by car, as we could definitely use a ride. However, I had zero luck with that. Until a local staying at Refugi de Montgarri, seeing us tired and running late without a clear plan, offered a ride back to the main road. There was something profoundly human in that gesture. He dropped us 2km from our motorhome, waved once, and was gone.
Thank you, stranger!
Fageda d’en Jordà – A Forest That Breathes
The Garrotxa volcanic region is where the world slows down. Beech trees rise from black volcanic soil, their trunks silvered by light, the air cool and heavy with the smell of earth. In autumn, the ground turns to a mosaic of rust-colored leaves.
Mushrooms were on point.
We walked slowly — not hiking, just drifting — through the Fageda d’en Jordà. Every step was muffled, every sound softened. At one point, our daughter stopped as massive mushrooms surrounded her. The forest wasn’t silent — it was alive, pulsing quietly around us.
Baqueira Beret – Views for days
I mean, look at this.
Baqueira valley, Spain.
Banyoles – The Still Water
After days of curves and climbs, Banyoles Lake felt like balm. The water stretched still and silver, broken only by ducks and the occasional ripple from a breeze. We found a shady spot near the water to park our rig and spent a paused day near the Olympic area.
Collioure – French Charm at a Slower Pace
Yet another perfect overnight parking spot near Collioure.
When we crossed back into France, Collioure felt like a sigh of relief. Pastel houses, hilly narrow lanes, and a small harbor where painters still set up their easels just as Matisse and Derain did a century ago. We walked slowly through the port, shared galettes, and dipped our feet before taking a bus back to our motorhome parking spot, a few km up north in yet another coastal paradise.
Collioure doesn’t ask much of you — it only asks you to stay long enough to fall under its spell. And we did.
Cadaqués and Cap de Creus – Where Art Meets the Sea
Cadaqués, like Collioure, also has a rhythm all its own: artists and fishermen, galleries and guitars, whitewashed walls that smell of salt and paint. On a Saturday night, the town glows with rumba music drifting through the streets and families strolling the promenade with ice creams in hand.
No better way to explore the coast!
The next day, we walked from our parking spot to the nearest beach in Portlligat and launched kayaks toward Cap de Creus. Clear waters, imposing cliffs, and rocky beaches awaited.
Cala Montgó – The Cliff Rescue
The Cami de Ronda near Cala Montgó is a scenic coastal path offering sea views and easy access to hidden coves.
Cala Montgó was the only place we stayed more than one night, and it earned it. The bay curved like a perfect half-moon, clear water shimmering against the limestone cliffs. We swam, dried our towels on the van mirrors, and finally stopped trying to keep seeing more for a while.
One afternoon, we followed a cami de ronda up the cliffs, chasing what looked like the logical way to coast our way to L’Escala from Cala Montgo. It wasn’t. The path ended abruptly at a drop, leaving us with a three-year-old, her mobility aid, and no way back but to do a 180-degree retrace. Just as the last sunbeams reached the beach, a local couple fishing nearby, cheerful as angels, offered us a ride back into town.
Riells and L’Escala are coastal towns on the Costa Brava, known for beaches, seafood, and a relaxed Mediterranean vibe.
They saved us from a long, sweaty ordeal — and dropped us off just in time to watch the sun melt into the sea in the nearby town.
Monasterio de Piedra – A Wonderland in Aragon
Hidden in Aragón’s parched interior, Monasterio de Piedra was a revelation. The landscape had been dry and ochre for hours when suddenly, out of nowhere, we found ourselves walking beneath waterfalls, quaint bridges over emerald lakes, and caverns dripping with golden afternoon light.
The sound of rushing water echoed through the old monastery gardens, where monks once lived among cascades and fish ponds. It was one of those places that feels geographically impossible, and spiritually restorative. Even after weeks of natural beauty, this oasis left us speechless.
Bodegas Pandora – Wine, Conversation, and Warmth
In Rueda, Bodegas Pandora crafts crisp, aromatic white wines from Verdejo grapes.
We reached Rueda under an early-morning sun and stopped at Bodegas Pandora, a cool new winery where nothing felt staged. The guide poured us glasses of crisp Verdejo straight from the barrels and talked about weather, soil, and patience. No marketing, no hurry.
We left with a few stories after a great tasting session, the perfect halfway point between travel and homecoming.
The Final Nights – Family, Friends, and a Taste of Home
The road west turned into a string of reunions. A long lunch with Asia’s great-grandmother in Tordesillas, the table crowded with tasty dishes and laughter.
Beers and tapas that turned into an impromptu Benavente dinner with José’s old college gang, stories looping back over the years.
The main church in Benavente, Iglesia de Santa María del Azogue, features a blend of Gothic and Renaissance architecture.
The next morning, before hitting the road again, we wandered through the Parador, the old library, and the main church, their calm interiors a quiet pause after the night before.
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- Parador de Benavente
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- Benavente’s main library
And finally, in Vilardevós, on the last evening of the trip: my friend María and her partner, Baba, who cooked domoda, a Senegalese stew so rich and comforting that it felt like closure itself.
Vilardevos serves as the headquarters of Asanta Teranga, my friend’s nonprofit.
The house filled with kids, spices, and stories from the road.
Other Little Moments That Stayed With Us
- The toddler’s sneaker that flew out the van window on a cross-country highway.
- A few nights of “emergency pizza,” almost one too many.
The road from Baqueira to Beret winds uphill through tight hairpin curves, offering both challenge and stunning views.
- The nerve-wracking hairpin bends on mountain roads in the Pyrenees as we were leaving an electric storm behind.
- The realization – once again – that boondocking in Spain and France isn’t just allowed — it’s addictive.
- The rhythm of the road itself: the slow hum, the steady forward motion, the sense that life is wider than we are forced to believe.
The La Peulla (Bonaigua) parking marks the starting point for the Gerber Lakes hike.
If We Could Bottle It…
If we could distill 24 days into five moments, they’d be these:
- Watching fireworks over Olite from Ujué’s Romanesque fortress church.
- Forest bathing in the Pyrenees enchanted forests.
- Paddling beneath the cliffs of Cap de Creus.
- Being helped by strangers in Montgarri and Cala Montgó.
- Sharing domoda and laughter on the last night.
Horses often share the road on the way to El Pla de Beret, adding a touch of local charm to the drive.
Looking back, it wasn’t just the places that made this trip unforgettable — it was the moments in between. The quiet nights in small towns, the unexpected acts of kindness, and the feeling of wandering without a fixed plan.
Once again, it wasn’t about where we were going, but about enjoying the ride.
Curious about how we made it all happen? Check out the full itinerary, detailed map, and breakdown of costs for our 3-week road trip — it’s packed with tips to help you plan your own adventure!
