On the morning of November 3rd, 1975, the Berguedà's peace was forever broken. An explosion in the Fígols mines claimed the lives of 30 men, including fathers, brothers, sons, and friends. They had gone to work as usual, unaware that they would never see daylight again.
In the hours that followed, the towns of the region went silent. The only sounds were church bells and the quiet weeping of families awaiting news that never arrived. In the streets, people whispered. Someone said, “They say one of them was the man from Bagà", “The husband of my friend from La Pobla…” Names spread slowly, painfully, with each one becoming another wound for a family, another empty seat at dinner.
The Berguedà was built through sweat and blood, and it bled again that day. The miners of Fígols sacrificed their lives, strength, and dignity in the darkness of the Earth.
Even after fifty years, the Berguedà people remember. They speak softly of that day, of the smoke rising from the mine, of the women standing in the cold, and of the subsequent silence.
It was a dark day, one that is still painful to remember.
However, forgetting it would imply forgetting who we are.