Traginers Festival in Balsareny, Catalonia, Spain. February 2026
- Mules Qui peut
- 2 hours ago
- 3 min read
This summer, during a lively conversation, N’ot Pascal — bubbling with energy and passion — told us about a traditional Catalan festival in Balsareny: the Traginers Festival.
Apart from Laurent and Claude, for the rest of us, it was a complete mystery — total confusion??? First of all, what is a traginer? What is this legendary parade? And where exactly is Catalonia? ^^
Let us explain everything.
Where Is Catalonia?
Catalonia is an autonomous community in northeastern Spain, officially recognized as a nationality in its Statute of Autonomy. Its capital and largest city is Barcelona. Part of its territory borders France.
You see, that’s quite a journey when leaving from Vallois, in Meurthe-et-Moselle…
So… What Is a Traginer?
The word traginer is associated with transport — mules, horses, donkeys (we’re not talking about cows or oxen here?). It’s a fairly regional term, though it can be used more broadly.
It may not please antispeciesists, but when you need to transport 150 kg of goods — goods upon which the survival of animals or humans depends — it’s still easier with a pack animal than on the back of a woman, child, or man.
The Great Epic – Friday
It was La Francine, N’ot Pascal’s right hand, who orchestrated everything. La Francine is the jewel of N’ot Pascal — and of Mule Qui Peut: a blend of Swiss Army knife efficiency, intelligence, speed, precision, and finesse. When we say she’s a gem, we mean it.
Booking the lodge, planning, organizing carpooling.
Departure at 4:30 a.m. from Vallois, in Meurthe-et-Moselle, aboard the minibus: N’ot Pascal, La Francine, Nadja, and Céleste.
Stop in Mâcon to pick up Bernard and the President, then toward Loriol, where Pascal and Dominique joined us.
We won’t go into the return trip.
On site, Rémy, Laurent, and Annabel had already warmed up the lodge and lit the fireplace.née.
The Traginers Museum in Igualada – Saturday
A museum dedicated to the muleteer’s trade. In addition to showcasing the work of carters, harness-makers, and coopers, the museum houses an exhibition of ploughs and carriages, with a room dedicated to the sculptures of Antoni Rosi.
Exceptional pieces, rich with history — the photos speak for themselves.
Emotional reactions within the group…
After lunch, back to Balsareny to meet Claude and Redouane — two remarkable characters, regulars at the event. Jacine, president of the Traginers Association of Balsareny, who speaks French, kindly gave us a behind-the-scenes tour of the event: more pack saddles — some massive ones — halters, baskets, crates, milk cans, wine skins… a real Ali Baba’s cave.
The Parade – Sunday
All hands on deck at 7 a.m.: breakfast with the organizers — a great moment!
Pan con tomate, botifarra, chickpeas, and red wine.
Around thirty animals, maybe more: mules, horses, donkeys, ponies, patiently waiting to be dressed. The seasoned veterans were calm, while humans bustled around them. With experience and composure, children and teenagers were often at the animals’ heads, stroking them — a gentle pat here, an affectionate tap there.
Since 8 a.m., it had been buzzing: discovery after discovery — types of animals, equipment, their use before motorized vehicles existed. Someone had to go to the market, deliver bread, vegetables, fruit, wine; transport fodder, tiles, bricks, flour, newlyweds — and even the deceased.
You’ve understood: a leap into the past, when cooperation between animal and human was vital for both. And the craftsmanship of the elders was striking — they made equipment built to last, with an aesthetic sense that could sometimes be flamboyant, but always magnificent.
Redouane, magnificent in a military medic costume, with a mule fitted with a cacolet for transporting the wounded.
There were also children dressed as traginers — tiny little ones barely taller than three apples, with or without a donkey, melting your heart — men, women, teenagers sharing memories of the tradition to keep it alive as long as possible.
We’ll spare you the restaurant moments — lots of laughter around a table of fifteen, Léon (a Basque muleteer) and his wife having joined us — and the Mule Qui Peut evenings at the lodge by the fireplace, full of hearty laughter and that simple joy of being together.
Thank you to Pascal, Claude, and Redouane — without whom we would never have discovered this event — and to Jacine for his warm welcome and for giving us a moment to present Mule Qui Peut.
That’s Mulardie.
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