EUROPE'S MOST SPECTACULAR NEW HOTEL IS SET IN A FORMER WWII RAILWAY STATION

High in the mountains between Spain and France, a long-neglected train station has become an opulent hotel.

A few years ago, I was flicking through a magazine when I saw a photo essay about abandoned train stations. They were images of sublime squalor. The grand Greco-Roman columns of Michigan Central Station in Detroit were covered with graffiti. The Art Deco posters on the walls of the St.-Martin Métro in Paris were gradually peeling away. But the most haunting place in the collection was Estación Canfranc, high in the Spanish Pyrenees.

From the outside, this 790-foot-long Beaux-Arts palace looked like it had been transplanted from a fashionable Parisian boulevard. When it was completed in 1925, Canfranc was the second-largest rail station in Europe, after the one in Leipzig, Germany. Inside, the structure had cathedral-like proportions, as though it had been erected not merely to facilitate train travel but to worship it. Huge arched windows let in shafts of beneficent light. The ticket counter could almost pass for an altar. But by the time the photo essay was published, the congregation was long gone. The building closed in 1970 and had been empty ever since. Its vaulted ceiling was slowly moldering, and the floor was covered in dust and debris.

Now the travelers are back. One recent afternoon I arrived in Canfranc to check in to the station, which has been transformed into one of Europe’s most spectacular new hotels. Its scale and grandeur are incongruous, given that Canfranc is a remote mountain hamlet near the border of Spain and France. The town, which sits in a narrow valley enclosed by steep, forested slopes, has a population of only 600.

After the station closed, Canfranc lured only a trickle of adventure lovers, drawn by glorious summer hiking and two tiny ski resorts farther up the valley. But today, the hotel is a destination in itself. The renovation is the work of the Barceló Hotel Group, who took over the derelict building in 2021. The Spanish firm has given the place a train-centric revamp that balances old-world glamour with contemporary style. As I checked in, I stood gaping at the old ticket hall, which now serves as the hotel lobby. Its polished wooden beams shone with a deep luster, and the ornate plasterwork on the walls was as clean and white as confectioner’s sugar.

"When it was completed in 1925, Canfranc was the second-largest rail station in Europe, after the one in Leipzig, Germany. Inside, the structure had cathedral-like proportions, as though it had been erected not merely to facilitate train travel but to worship it."

In the station’s locomotive heyday, its north and south wings were occupied, respectively, by French and Spanish customs officials. Now the southern wing houses a bar and restaurant tricked out in Art Deco shades of green and gold; the bar is illuminated by pendant lamps that resemble train wheels. In the rooms, antique station windows have been refurbished as quirky wall art.

Yet the hotel’s brand of nostalgic luxury is only one reason to visit; the other is its history. The village of Canfranc may be tiny and remote, but its border location has given it an outsize strategic importance for centuries. The evidence is everywhere. After I arrived at the hotel I headed outside and looked north up the valley. Perched on a ridge high above me was a 16th-century fortress that the Spanish rebuilt after Napoleon’s invasion in 1808; they wanted to defend against another possible incursion through this mountain pass. At the other end I could see concrete bunkers, erected for the same reason by the Franco regime in 1944. As well as being a luxurious stop on the route between Paris and Madrid, the station has played a prominent role in the valley’s history of intrigue and espionage.

Later that afternoon, I met with Ana Badino and Marcelo Boveri, an Argentine couple who moved from Madrid to the Canfranc region in 2020 to enjoy a quieter life in the mountains. Since then, they have immersed themselves in the station’s extraordinary history and now run tours around the valley.

Until the 20th century, this corner of northern Spain was seen as poor and backward. The main economic activity was smuggling: alcohol and cigarettes went from Spain to France, and clothes, clocks, tea, and embroidery went the other way. But the locals wanted more opportunity than contraband provided, and the government wanted to take this roguish part of the country and turn it into a legitimate, modern commercial hub. So in 1912, the government commissioned the station as a statement of ambition and advancement. Fernando Ramírez de Dampierre, a Madrid-born engineer, was hired to design it. Both the president of France and the king of Spain were present at the inauguration ceremony in 1928.

For a few years, life in Canfranc was full of commercial activity. Daily trains from Portugal delivered port wine, cocoa, and coffee imported from Brazil. Industrial goods like coal and aluminum arrived from France. Badino and Boveri pointed out the rusted, obsolete cranes behind the station; they once loaded and unloaded this cargo.

But when war broke out in 1939, everything changed. As Bodina and Boveri explained, the head of the station’s French customs department was a man named Albert Le Lay. He was more than a mere border official. He was a vital member of the French resistance who used his position at the station to help Jews and allied fighters fleeing persecution and capture in Germany and Vichy France. Now remembered as an Oskar Schindler–like figure, Le Lay provided these fugitives with forged papers to help them cross into Spain and on to Portugal. From there they traveled to safety. The identities of Le Lay’s beneficiaries are hard to trace, but according to some historians, those who passed through Canfranc included Max Ernst and Peggy Guggenheim.

Bodina and Boveri led me a little farther down the valley, which is still crisscrossed by old railway lines. Eventually we came to a row of derelict warehouses, their heavy wooden doors bent and buckled from decades of neglect, their roofs full of holes where high winds had ripped the tiles away. Through the gaps we peered into the dark interiors. In one of the buildings, in 2000, a cache of Nazi paperwork was found that listed items the Germans had moved through Canfranc after the Gestapo occupied the station in 1942. They included looted gold bars and opium.

His job as a customs official gave Le Lay the cover he needed to continue his resistance work. He would receive information from agents masquerading as passengers as they arrived at the station. From there, messages were transported by a network of spies down the train line to Zaragoza, the nearest city. Canfranc, then, was a crucial node in a pan-European network of spies that helped disrupt the German war machine.

Like many travelers to Canfranc today, I arrived via the airport in Zaragoza, the regional capital. Zaragoza is an underrated destination compared with Barcelona, Madrid, and Seville. Following the Umayyad invasion from North Africa in the eighth century, it became a major city in the north of Muslim Spain. At its center is a Moorish fortress, the Aljafería Palace, which is built in a magnificent architectural fusion of European and Islamic styles known as Mudejar. On the bank of the Erbo River, which courses through Zaragoza, stands a monumental Baroque basilica whose central dome is surrounded by four towers. But for me, the biggest lure was the opportunity to admire the art of the area’s most famous son, Francisco Goya.

After spending the night at the NH Collection Gran Hotel de Zaragoza, I walked over to the Goya Museum. It’s a small institution that packs a big punch. The star attractions are Goya’s etchings, displayed in a large, crepuscular room that protects these delicate artworks from light damage.

Goya’s etchings rank among his strangest and most personal pieces. “Los Caprichos,” a series of 80 prints, is a pitch-black satire on religious hypocrisy, corruption, and superstition. These images feature grotesque goblins dressed as clergymen; a donkey in an aristocrat’s silk coat studying his family tree; a woman pulling teeth from the mouth of a hanged man to be used as lucky charms. In another series, “The Disasters of War,” the devilish comedy of “Los Caprichos” is replaced by documentary horror. The etchings captured the violence of conflicts like the Peninsular War, which ravaged Spain between 1808 and 1814.

From Zaragoza I drove two hours across the tinder-dry plains of northern Spain to Jaca, a compact city with a Romanesque cathedral. It dates from the 11th century, when the king of Aragon decided to turn his territory into a stopping point for pilgrims on their way to Santiago de Compostela, 500 miles to the west. Pilgrimage was good business: you had to be wealthy to take several months off work and pay your way across Europe. Jaca did well from the foot traffic. In the Middle Ages, the road outside the cathedral passed 16 shoe shops.

After a meal of venison carpaccio at a small restaurant, La Cocina, I drove into the mountains to Canfranc. Having been cooped up in the car, I wanted to explore the landscape, so the following morning I met up with Fernando Garrido, a wiry mountain guide with silver hair and a deep tan. Garrido, a partner in a Jaca-based company, Aragon Aventura, is a serious mountaineer. For 30 years he has held the world record for spending the most time at high altitude: he stayed, alone, for two months straight on the summit of Mount Aconcagua, in Argentina, at an altitude of more than 22,000 feet.

Thankfully, our plan was more down to earth. It was a blue and shimmering Sunday, and we decided to head to Ordesa & Mount Perdido National Park, a 90-minute drive southeast of Canfranc. We hiked into a deep canyon, following the course of a river that had been reduced to a slow trickle by a two-month drought. The canyon’s sheer limestone walls rose almost 3,000 feet, and birds of prey circled on the thermals.

"Yet the hotel’s brand of nostalgic luxury is only one reason to visit; the other is its history. The village of Canfranc may be tiny and remote, but its border location has given it an outsize strategic importance for centuries. The evidence is everywhere."

As we walked, Garrido pointed out the fajas, the narrow paths that run along the cliff edges. Looking at the thin lines they traced across the rock, I couldn’t help thinking about those wartime refugees I had heard about in Canfranc. During the German occupation, the route became more perilous, and despite Le Lay’s help, many were arrested at the station. In hopes of avoiding the authorities, thousands walked across the Pyrenees on foot, clinging to these narrow, cliff-edge paths as they searched for safety.

That night, I sat down to dinner at Canfranc Estación’s Restaurant Internacional, which is run by Eduardo Salanova and Ana Acín. Chef Salanova’s food is a fusion of local ingredients and avant-garde presentation. That evening’s 15-course tasting menu included foie gras with strawberries, local caviar, a terrine poached in mulled wine, and sous-vide eggs. (Another restaurant, Canfranc Express, opened after my visit in a restored train car outside the hotel, and has since been awarded a Michelin star.)

As I ate, a fog descended over the valley and a gentle rain began to fall. Through the window I could see the silhouettes of Canfranc’s old cargo warehouses and, beyond them, the wooded hillsides. Sitting there in the warm glow, I thought back to the stories my Argentine guides had told me — about the secret agents running messages through this building, about the villagers sewing notes into the linings of their clothes to protect them from the Gestapo. The setting was worthy of a wartime spy thriller, and as I sat in the opulent dining room I imagined myself waiting not for my dessert to arrive but for a tap on the shoulder from a clandestine contact bearing important papers and, along with them, a chance of freedom.

Where to Stay

Canfranc Estación, A Royal Hideaway Hotel

This spectacular mountain hotel is worth a trip in itself. Tours of the property and the surrounding valley can be arranged through the concierge.

NH Collection Gran Hotel De Zaragoza

Previous guests at this imposing hotel in the center of town include Walt Disney and Ernest Hemingway. Stop by the excellent restaurant, La Ontina, for seasonal dishes like braised white asparagus.

Where to Eat

Jaca La Cocina

A small but stylish restaurant in Jaca that serves regional dishes like venison carpaccio and olla jacetana, a stew of beans and pork.

What to Do

Aragon Aventura

Fernando Garrido, my hiking guide, co-owns this Jaca-based adventure company. He offers walking excursions as well as a range of other mountain activities, including canyoning and snowshoeing.

Goya Museum

This small museum in Zaragoza has the world’s finest collection of Goya’s etchings.

Pirineo Esencial

Knowledgeable guides Ana Badino and Marcelo Boveri offer tours of Canfranc and the surrounding valley.

A version of this story first appeared in the May 2024 issue of Travel + Leisure under the headline "Full Speed Ahead."

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