A mountain(-ish) ascent

There was not a sound anywhere, apart from the rustling of the leaves in the wind. Nor was there the path our guidebook had told us to expect. Or a phone signal. Hmmm.

Kevin and I were taking advantage of another beautiful day to do walk number 3 (the weather app keeps threatening a lengthy period of rain, so we are living each sunny day as if it's the last). So far we've started gently, with short, fairly flat routes. This time, the plan was to hike up a mountain. 

We drove north-west from Portals Nous towards Andratx past the almond blossom fields, which are coming along nicely. Our destination was the pretty little village of S'Arraco, or rather its cemetary, where the walk started. After transversing the village twice, we finally found it, just where the book said it would be. And there, as stated, was a little lane that soon turned into an earthen path winding through countryside.

After passing a single house just behind the cemetary, there were no other signs of life - no houses, no dogs, no people; just an overgrown path through undergrowth. But the directions were good (turn left at the ruined stone hut etc), and the route was surprisingly easy to find. Until it wasn't.

The problem was where to cross the stream bed. Apparently it would be marked by a cairn (a little stone pile like the ones we found on our pirate path from Cala Pi - I feel so appreciative towards previous walkers who have bothered to make these unobtrusive but massively helpful signposts). We walked, and walked; but found nothing. So should we follow our current path to who knows where? Or should we go back, and see if we can find the one we've missed?

I voted heavily for retracing our steps - I like following instructions, so wanted to do what the book said; and I also felt anxious about venturing into the unknown, despite Kevin's amazing sense of direction. So, bless him, back we went, and although we didn't find the crossing, we did find the onwards path. So having pushed our way (slightly painfully) through some thorn bushes to get to it, we stomped onwards. 

Up to this point, our journey had only contained minor ups and downs. From here, it was "increasingly steep" (as the book pre-warned). We ploughed on, up to the head of the gully (I didn't know what a gully was before this, but I can now tell you it's like the beginning of a little valley, before it splits - you learn something new etc...). 

And then it got serious. Kevin led the way up a very steep, rocky hillside, following a zigzagging route marked out with cairns - you couldn't even call it a path. Legs and lungs working hard, we kept on; and then we finally reached the top: a ridge, with the cliff falling steeply away below us down towards the sea, with the island Sa Dragonera lying straight ahead. Beautiful. 

We had a little sit down on a rock and enjoyed the moment. Not a sign of human existence either side of us, just lush greenery, bright blue sky, and dark blue sea. Plus two mountain goats who appeared on the rise to our left, looking down at us curiously from their precarious perch right on the edge of the ridge - Kevin got a bit worried they were becoming threatening, and might at any moment scramble down to headbutt us off the cliff...

And then it was back down the mountain again. (It actually turned out to be a hill - 55m too short to classify - but it felt pretty mountainous to us.) When we got to the stream bed, we discovered how we'd missed the crossing: we'd passed a small fallen tree, and hadn't thought much of it; but it turned out that the tree had fallen on top of the marker cairn and the crossing point. At least we found our way despite this.

And that was it for walk number 3. Back to the car, and a quick detour to buy some camping chairs for the beach before collecting Jemima (we ended up eating at the main shopping mall, and it was another case of more expensive, worse food than Chameli's). And then a repeat picnic on the beach in the afternoon sun, with Jemima frolicking in the waves; followed by chocolate ice cream in the marina before bath and bed. Kevin and I agreed later that that hike was about as intrepid as we want to be - neither of us aspire to be proper mountain climbers. But we are proud of our (mini) mountain adventure.

Leading the way through a variety of terrain 

You might be able to see the cairns that were our route markers either side of Kevin

The top!

Our mountain goat neighbours

The way down

Beach picnic

Beach!

"I wanted to be left on my own!" wailed Jemima, as Kevin and I retraced our steps along the beach. We'd realised that she wasn't going to follow us as we pretended to walk off, and was instead perfectly happy to see us go. She was enjoying herself too much to leave.

It had been Jemima's idea to go for a picnic after school. Kevin and I had had a restful day: our morning run was followed by a quiet afternoon in the flat, with me reading coaching books on the balcony - the sun had returned with enthusiasm that morning. Then our usual Chameli's visit (handshakes from the head waiter today! We've probably been about ten times in three weeks so I think we now count as regulars...), before collecting Jemima. After she suggested the beach outing, we packed a picnic, got the towels, and walked down there to enjoy the last of the sunshine. 

Jemima loved it: paddling in the (completely freezing) sea, singing to herself; playing in the sand; and relishing the whole experience. So much so, that we couldn't drag her away, not even with the lure of some post-picnic chocolate ice cream. Hence the bluff that she could stay on her own and we'd leave her to it. Unfortunately, as stated, she actually rather liked that idea.

When we finally persuaded her to leave, we did go for the promised chocolate ice cream: to Flanigan's in the marina, so Kevin and I could share some more of their ambrosial jamón. Not bad way to end the day really. Good thinking Jemima.

Studying on the balcony

Chameli's

The beach!

Underground, overground

How to entertain kids in Mallorca on a rainy day? That was our Google search on Saturday morning: Jemima woke up sunny; the weather did not, with proper rain for the first time. So we decided to retreat underground, to the Caves of Drach.

For someone who isn't keen on confined spaces, weirdly I rather like a cave (as long as it's not a small one - no hardcore spelunking thank you very much). And Jemima also seemed keen - she enjoyed the one we visited in Australia. And as it turned out, this was a great cave.

First we had a rainy drive across the middle of Mallorca, through windmill-sprinkled fields, more almond blossom froth starting on the trees, and little lambs running about - all very spring-like, apart from the weather. I've (voluntarily) vacated my front seat for Jemima on the weekends - she loves giving directions (basically repeating the sat nav), and has started to "help" Daddy change gear (with her hand under his on the gear stick). They have a lovely time together; and, despite my relegation, it is actually quite peaceful in the back.

After an hour we arrived in Porto Cristo, a little town on the east coast with a small marina, a nice looking beach, and a front of touristy restaurants, all of which were closed, bar one. (It turns out off-season Mallorca looks a lot more desolate in the rain.) After a fruitless search for something more appealing, we resorted to that one open place, and had an indifferent, expensive lunch (twice the cost of Chameli's menú, to which everything is now compared). But then it was time for the caves.

The entrance was not far, just outside town. We lined up for our tour's entrance time with about 40 others, then went down the steps into the earth. The heat hit you first - it was noticeably warmer in there, and Kevin's glasses steamed up. And then we saw inside: a walkway through a cavern of beautifully lit stalactites and stalagmites, looking like frozen water with soft ripples and curves to them. Some were thick pillars; others clumped together to look like organ pipes; and the roof was completely covered with a fringing of baby stalactites, like a spiky ceiling.

The path led continuously down, and every bend took us into another open cavern with more to see, including gaps where icy blue water could be seen far below, as transparent and still as glass. And then the highlight for Jemima: we overtook a six year old German girl called Finilla, who was as keen on Jemima as she was on her. For the rest of the tour they travelled together, holding hands and commenting on what they saw around them (despite not really having a word in common). 

Our final destination was a big open chamber, with an expanse of underground lake winding through it - one of the largest in the world apparently, 115m long and up to 12m deep. We sat on benches in stepped rows (our 40 people filled up barely a quarter of the spaces - goodness knows what it must be like at peak season). And then from around the bend, three rowing boats appeared with lights along their edge reflecting ethereally in the water. As they got closer, musicians in the first boat (a violin, a viola and a cello, plus - slightly incongruously in a boat - a piano) started playing something classical and vaguely familiar. The three boats rowed to one end of the chamber and back, playing beautifully; then the musicians rowed away, and we all had a go on the boats.

Jemima and Finilla sat in the front with Kevin, while myself and Finilla's parents were in the row behind. To be honest, it was pretty short; but still very atmospheric to be floating on that amazing water so deep underground. After the boat ride, it was many steps back up to the surface; big hugs goodbye to Finilla; and then back home for fajitas before bed, and hopefully better weather tomorrow.

Sunday dawned much brighter, thankfully. Jemima and I had our usual Sunday morning of homework, phonics and games, plus FaceTime to say happy birthday to Granny; then Kevin led us out to find a children's playground for our day's diversion. There was a bit of driving around some rather less attractive bits of Palma before we discovered what we were looking for; then we found a space for the car, and headed into the park.

An English park this was not - there are very few places that can rival our city parks (although the one in Christchurch, NZ is pretty amazing). But there were people out enjoying their Sunday; it had a scooting surface for Jemima; and as we got further in, we found the playground - a huge castle-esque structure, full of kids, with a café nearby for Kevin and I. 

After a coffee and a play, it was time to eat. Kevin and I suffered a slight marital disagreement, so we went home for lunch and to re-group. Then, after a quiet interlude, with the sun still out, we all went down to the marina for an early dinner.

Back to Wellies, and a lovely table in the sun with a view of the boats - it really is hard to beat. Some games (Jemima is now playing our old favourite Ants in Your Pants in Spanish); some good food; a nice glass of wine; and lots of scooting up and down the marina in the early evening sun.  Then home, with Jemima not too exhausted and ready for another week at school. The time is going so quickly - next week it will be a month since we arrived. But thankfully, there's still a bit more time to come.

Porto Cristo in the rain

The Caves of Drach

I know it's blurry, but she looks so happy!



Friends!



A little relax



Parc de la Riera

Back at the marina

Portals New to Portals Old

Friday felt English - chilly, with grey skies and spitting rain for our scoot to school. But Kevin and I stuck to our training plan, and ran regardless. Then we ventured out (with umbrella) to Portals Vells ("old" in Catalan), at the very western tip of the Bay of Palma.

After leaving the main road to go onto the headland, we weaved down an immaculate narrow ribbon of tarmac through undeveloped woodlands - presumably a protected area - until the first of the three bays that make up Portals Vells. A few dog walkers and a motorboat at anchor were the only other signs of life; but despite the cloudy sky and the deserted restaurant, it was still unbelievably pretty, with more of the fabulous turquoise water we've seen in other little bays around the island. 

As the sun came out, we followed the coast path east past some amazing hollows that had been carved out of the sandy rock by the sea. Then after a slightly precarious cliff scramble, we wound down the hill towards the second bay, Cala Mago. This was smaller, but with a similarly deserted restaurant, and equally pretty (I've put a request in to come back here for lunch once it opens - it looks idyllic). And then a more sensible (if steeply up- and down-hill) road route to the final bay, frequented by naturists apparently, but not today - we had the place to ourselves. 

Another beautiful bit of Mallorca. I've heard the little calas (coves) around the island poetically described as a necklace of pearls around the coast, and after having seen a few, I can see what the writer meant. They are mostly not long wide strands, but instead these gorgeous little bays with tiny strips of sand and this amazing sea - I've always thought the Greek sea was the best, but this is rivalling it. A lovely little explore, with some more exercise for slightly tired legs - we have been discovering Mallorca's hills alongside Mallorca's bays.

After we'd walked back to the car, we drove on as far as you could go onto the headland. The road disintegrated, so we parked and walked up the last bit, until the Bay of Palma stretched out before us - from the lighthouse just to our right that marked the western edge, and then the 50km of the Bay curving away to our left and onto the horizon. It is huge. Quite a view. Then that was followed by a little drive around the EXTREMELY expensive real estate on the hillside above the third bay - an area called Sol de Mallorca, where the two houses for sale would have set you back £5m or £9m respectively. 

Back home to Chameli's for delicious pasta with ham, peas and mushrooms (at this rate, I will forget how to cook! At least the increase in eating out costs has been balanced by a massive reduction in supermarket spending...); and then to collect a knackered Jemima from school. It was the celebration of Sant Antoni in Portals Nous that night (which I now know means "new" in Catalan - although I still don't know what "Portals" means...). Patron saint of animals, Sant Antoni is celebrated in all the villages in Mallorca during January with fiestas, including bonfires and devil dances in some places. Our bonfire was being lit at 7pm, so we thought there was a slight chance we might make it; but no, she was pale and grumpy, so we parked it. Another thing for another time. Instead, an early night, and on to the weekend. More exploring to come!

Portals Vells

The sandy cliffs

The entrance to the furthest two bays (and pricey Sol de Mallorca behind me - the blue and turquoise house has both a human and a car lift down from the road)

Cliff scramble



Cala Mago, or Portals Vells II

The furthest bay - Portals Vells III

A mini marina for the millionaires residing above

The three bays of Portals Vells seen from the headland

The Badia de Palma

The lighthouse at the western edge (we can see this flashing from our flat)