There’s a specific kind of morning in Barcelona that I love. It’s the hour when the city is still rubbing the sleep from the eyes, the smell of toasted bread and bitter coffee drifts from the panaderías, and the light hits the Gothic spires in a way that makes you feel like you’ve stepped into a painting. But on this particular Tuesday, I wasn’t heading for a leisurely breakfast in the Born. I had a mountain to catch. I was going to Montserrat.
If you’ve been in Barcelona for more than a day, you’ve seen it. You look down the wide spine of the Avinguda Diagonal, or you gaze out from the Bunkers del Carmel, and there it is—a jagged, serrated silhouette of rock that looks like a saw cutting into the sky. It doesn’t look real. It looks like a spine of a prehistoric beast half-buried in the earth. The Catalans call it la muntanya meravellosa—the marvelous mountain. And for centuries, they haven’t just been looking at it; they’ve been living on it, praying on it, and hiking through its hidden paths.
Getting there is an adventure in itself. It’s a journey that layers the world around you: first the rumble of the metro, then the rhythmic clatter of a commuter train, the silent glide of a cable car, and finally, the breathless climb of a rack-and-pinion train that seems to defy gravity itself.
If you’re planning this trip—and you absolutely should—let me walk you through it. I’ve done this trek more times than I can count, with parents who struggled with stairs, with friends who just wanted the best photo, and solo, just to hear the silence of the monastery corridors. Here is everything you need to know to make your Montserrat day trip from Barcelona by train seamless, affordable, and deeply memorable.
The journey begins, as most things in Barcelona do, at Plaça Espanya. It’s a chaotic, beautiful square dominated by the twin Venetian towers and the Palau Nacional looming behind it.
I arrived at 8:00 a.m., just as the sun was starting to burn off the morning mist. The FGC (Ferrocarrils de la Generalitat de Catalunya) station is tucked right underneath the Magic Fountain. You can’t miss the big digital boards. You are looking for the R5 line headed towards Manresa. Crucially, you need to get off at one of two stops: Monistrol de Montserrat or Aeri de Montserrat.
I usually aim for the 8:14 a.m. train. It’s the "sweet spot"—early enough to beat the massive tour bus crowds that arrive around 10:30 a.m., but late enough that I’ve had my coffee. The train ride itself takes about an hour. It’s a suburban commuter line, so it stops frequently, but as you leave the urban sprawl of Cornellà and L'Hospitalet behind, the landscape shifts. You’ll see the beginnings of the Baix Llobregat orchards, and then, looming ahead, the mountain starts to dominate the view.
When you buy your ticket (more on that in a moment), you have a major decision to make: how do you want to ascend the mountain?
You get off the train at Aeri de Montserrat station. From there, it’s a short walk to a yellow cable car that zooms you straight up the cliff face.
You stay on the train until Monistrol de Montserrat. There, you switch to a red funicular train that chugs up the steep mountainside.
I have done both, but on this Tuesday morning, I chose the Cremallera. I love the Aeri, but there is something grounding about the Cremallera. It feels like a pilgrimage.
I used to just rock up and buy tickets at the window. I learned the hard way that in July, the line for tickets can be longer than the line to get into the Basilica.
Here is the breakdown of the Montserrat day trip from Barcelona by train cost:
My Strategy: I buy the ticket online the night before. I choose the "Cremallera + Aeri" option if I plan to hike down, but usually, I stick to the "Tomba" standard. I scan the QR code at the turnstiles. No paper tickets, no fuss.
The Cremallera train pulls into the Monistrol de Montserrat station, and the climb begins. The tracks are laid on the side of the mountain. To your left, the drop is stomach-churning; to your right, the wall of rock is close enough to touch.
When the doors open at the top station (Plaça de la Devesa), you are hit by two things: the cool mountain air and the sheer size of the monastery complex.
I stepped out and looked up. The Basilica of Santa Maria de Montserrat rises like a fortress of faith. But before I went inside, I needed to get my bearings.
I headed straight for the Basilica. The line to see the Virgin of Montserrat (La Moreneta) can be long. It moves, but it requires patience. She sits in a small niche, dark-skinned, holding the child Christ.
I’ve seen grown men weep in that line. I’ve seen toddlers reach out with sticky hands, eyes wide. When it was my turn, I followed the local custom: I reached out and kissed the orb she holds in her right hand. It’s a tactile connection to history that goes back a thousand years. You don’t have to be religious to feel the weight of the devotion in that room. It is heavy, incense-scented, and utterly human.
Once you’ve paid your respects, wander. The monastery is a sprawling complex of honey-colored stone.
If you have time, it’s worth a visit. It’s not a dusty regional museum; it houses works by Caravaggio, El Greco, and Picasso. I once spent an hour staring at a small, moody landscape by Marc Chagall that felt like it held the entire mountain in its blue hues.
Located in the Visitor Center, this is actually a great way to understand the history of the monks here. It explains why they stayed when everyone else fled during wars and plagues.
But Montserrat isn't just a monastery; it's a geological wonder. The rock here is conglomerate—ancient river stones cemented together over millions of years. It’s porous, jagged, and full of holes (called "forats").
I wanted to hike to Sant Jeroni, the highest point of the mountain (1,236 meters). It’s a moderate hike, about an hour and a half up, an hour down.
I took the Sant Joan Funicular up to the starting point of the high trails. This funicular is an engineering marvel—it shoots almost vertically up the cliffside. The doors open, and you are standing on a precipice looking down at the monastery. It’s terrifying and exhilarating.
From there, the path to Sant Jeroni is a mix of stone steps and metal walkways bolted into the cliff. You walk through tunnels in the rock. At one point, I squeezed through a narrow passage called El Pas de la Cadena (The Chain Pass)—historically, it used to require a chain to navigate; now it’s just a narrow, vertical scramble.
When I reached the summit of Sant Jeroni, the 360-degree view stopped me in my tracks. To the east, the Mediterranean shimmered blue; to the west, the Pyrenees were snow-capped even in late spring. You can see the geometric patchwork of the Catalan countryside. I sat on a rock, ate a bocadillo I’d packed, and felt the sun warm my face.
People often ask me: Santa Cova funicular vs. aerial cable car montserrat?
The Aerial Cable Car (Aeri) is the one that looks like a gondola. It’s fast, scenic, and connects the Aeri station to the monastery.
The Santa Cova Funicular is different. It’s a narrow, steep funicular that takes you down to a cave—the Santa Cova—where the Virgin is said to have appeared. It’s a quieter, more spiritual descent. The stairs leading up from the Santa Cova are a workout (the "Stairway to Heaven"), but it’s a beautiful forested path.
By 1:30 p.m., I was hungry. There are a few dining options up there.
This is the main buffet-style restaurant. It’s… functional. It’s not a culinary destination, but the botifarra (Catalan sausage) is decent, and the views from the terrace are lovely. It’s located near the monastery.
I actually prefer grabbing snacks from the cafeteria or buying cheese and cured meats from the Maternal (the shop near the monastery). I found a quiet bench near the Plaça de Santa Maria, watching the fountains. There is a specific joy to eating simple, rustic food in a place that feels this ancient.
If you are short on time, take the 8:14 a.m. train. Take the Cremallera up. See the Black Madonna (45 min wait). Walk around the monastery (1 hour). Take the Sant Joan Funicular up, look at the view, and come right back down. Catch the 2:30 p.m. train back. You’ll be in Barcelona by 4:00 p.m., exhausted but happy.
Take the early train. Do the hike to Sant Jeroni (3 hours round trip). Have a sit-down lunch. Visit the museum. Watch the choir (if you can stay until 6:45 p.m.). Take the sunset train back.
As the afternoon light turned soft and amber, I made my way back to the Plaça de la Devesa. The monks were preparing for Vespers. The sound of bells echoed off the rock faces. It was time to go.
The descent on the Cremallera is much faster than the ascent. You plummet back down to the valley floor, the world expanding again. I caught the 5:30 p.m. train back to Plaça Espanya. The carriage was full of hikers with muddy boots, tourists clutching bottles of Montserrat liqueur, and a group of school kids singing quietly.
When I stepped out into the humid embrace of Barcelona, the city felt louder, faster, more chaotic. But I carried the silence of the mountain with me. It’s a strange thing, Montserrat. You go there to see a monastery, but you stay for the way it changes your perspective. It reminds you that nature and faith are powerful, enduring forces, and that sometimes, the best way to find yourself is to get lost in the jagged spine of a marvelous mountain.