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As is befitting of a spectacular national park (officially declared so in 1987), the pink-hued and unfeasibly jagged Montserrat mountain range causes a chap to stop and stare in wide-eyed wonder at its majestic presence as it hoves into view just thirty eight miles northeast of Barcelona. My admiration on this particular occasion, however, was somewhat tempered by the fact that my companion and I should, in fact, have been somewhere else entirely, approximately sixty miles away. Well, that's satnavs for you.
I wasn't driving and so, as any well-mannered passenger knows, it was incumbent upon me to keep schtum and hand out boiled sweets at regular intervals for no discernable reason. This, in spite of the mounting evidence being displayed on the traditional road signs (you know, the ones that actually tell you where you're going) that we were hurtling headlong towards a selection of random destinations which hadn't the faintest connection to where we actually wanted to be - unless you count being located vaguely within the borders of Catalonia, which is a pretty tenuous link, I'm sure you'll agree.
The fun didn't stop there. Our efforts to flee the shadow of Montserrat and get back on track comprised a series of missed exits and U-turns that lasted for miles, the likes of which were last seen in a 1976 episode of the Wacky Races. It was unclear at this point which would run out first - the boiled sweets or my patience.
Luckily, just as I was about to jump ship and start hitchhiking, we were granted a gift from the gods - the phone with the satnav on it ran out of juice. I'd never considered black to be a particularly attractive colour until I saw that screen. I was initially admirably restrained with my analysis of the situation.
"Oh well, we'll just have to use the traditional road signs, I suppose."
"No, I think there's a phone charger in th -"
"Let's just use the traditional road signs, eh?" My tone was, by now, what might be termed, somewhat euphemistically, a little more 'forthright'.
And so, owing to our newly-adopted old-fashioned system of navigation, we subsequently got to where we wanted to be (the Santes Creus monastery - highly recommended) with the minimum of fuss, before heading for home - again simply following the road signs - and arriving safely without taking so much as a single wrong turn along the way.
Screeching to a grateful halt, we headed straight for the pub. It was closed.
One can only presume the owner was using a satnav system to get there from his house.
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