Beatrix pottering: Ticking off the list

The end of our visit, in mid-April, is now fast approaching. So I have started making mental lists of the places we have yet to explore before we go home. Monday's plan was Calvià, a popular and nearby hillside town we have previously visited during siesta time, and found basically closed. Today we were trying again.

After our morning run, we drove the short distance inland and slightly uphill towards the town. Kevin pointed out there were the remains of a Roman villa somewhere, so I must like it... And it was a lot more appealing at a lunchtime - still no main street, which I missed; but the buildings were attractive, lots of them from the 17th century; and they actually had people among them, which made it feel more alive.

We'd planned a lunch stop in Calvià's most popular restaurant, Mesón C'an Torrat. It was properly old school, with a lot of wood, beams, a tiled floor, and a wall full of bull-fighting photos and memorabilia, including an actual bull's head. We had a friendly welcome, and our waiter's two year old boy was running around, fondly supervised by his grandfather, which added to the family feel (as we left, I spotted the boy stretched out napping on a little mattress in the corner of the restaurant). And the menu was old school too: starters; and "meat". So we ordered some delicious padrón peppers, and roast chicken for two, which was very tasty: a tiny chicken each, with great chips and a lovely pile of veg.

After lunch we had a wander through the town. We found an elegant old house which was the town library, set in a pretty garden; and through a little archway some dilapidated buildings that included a farm animal shed, an ancient wooden plough, and a stone outside toilet. It was a pretty town, with the honey-coloured stone buildings set against the green encircling mountains. But still not a lot of life, despite the cyclists scattered at every bar and restaurant (including ours) as well as all over the road.

Tuesday saw the same problem. Our destination was Es Trenc on the south coast, supposedly Mallorca's answer to a Caribbean beach. So our route took us through the flat farmlands of southern Mallorca, along with a rash of cyclists in little clusters or scattered separately along the road. (This is my kind of cycling - flat and fast, none of those horrific mountain climbs.)

Es Trenc turned out to be a bit of an anticlimax. The photos look amazing - a hugely long stretch of white sand curving in a wide bay, lapped by turquoise sea (see here: https://goo.gl/images/HuF1HJ). Today, not so much: it was windy, so the sea was rough, with waves pounding against the shore; and while the sand was beautiful, it was also covered with black seaweed, which spoiled the effect slightly - the seaweed actually made the waves look black, they were so full of it. "It looks like an oil slick", said Kevin. Ah well. We had a very blustery walk (I'd left my coat in the car, fooled by the sunshine, and regretted it); and then retreated back to the enormous (empty) car park. Give it a few months and the carpark will be fuller; but at least the beach won't look like an environmental disaster. We will return.

Our early departure meant we had time for a few more stops on the way home: Ses Covetes, a tiny village at the far end of Es Trenc beach with waves crashing into the rocks; then a little drive to another couple of coastal spots: Sa Rapità, with a tiny yacht club, and S'Estanyol. Then our tour of the south coast over, we turned inland due north past Llucmajor, whose church spire is always visible from the main motorway across the island, and to the tiny and adorable village of Randa. And this is where the rash of cyclists became a plague.

I should interject at this point: I am not against cyclists. I used to be one in London (albeit the commuter rather than hill-climber type); and I certainly couldn't do what they do, making it up these mountains. And they bring a huge boost to Mallorca's off-season economy, which is brilliant. But I do think they look a bit ridiculous; and sometimes they are dangerous (riding in clumps across the road); or, it turns out, when going up really steep hills with poor visibility...

We were planning a drive up to another impossibly high religious building with views: the Santuari de Cura. And it seems that the road there from Randa is highlight number one on a cyclist's Mallorca tour: they were everywhere, toiling up the steep hill, meaning I closed my eyes every time we went round one of the many tight corners (they are going so slowly, you are upon them almost before you can see them); and they were also whizzing down at high speed, in some cases no less treacherously because they were taking the racing line around blind corners i.e. head on into us. I didn't enjoy that bit much; but Kevin drive carefully and considerately and we made it to the top without incident (to find at least another 50 already up there).

But no matter: this was the most epic view yet: this hill, near the middle of Mallorca's central plain, had 360 degree views, from the South Coast we'd just visited; back towards Palma Bay, north towards the Tramuntana mountains, and even (on a clear day) across to Ibiza. It was stunning. We didn't have long to explore - school pick-up deadline - but will return another day to visit the museum (13th Century manuscripts apparently - yes from me, maybe not from Kevin) and have lunch on the gorgeous terrace. It's just a shame we have to dice with (cyclists') death to get there. But thankfully we made it down without incident (much less hairy) and got back in plenty of time for a Chameli's lunch before collecting Jemima.

And then there was one last adventure: we'd promised she could choose where she had dinner tonight. So we went down to the marina, and she chose Cappuccino (for their colouring, it turned out, rather than food or location - but we each have our own criteria...). So while she ate (a delicious of pricey burger), Kevin and I had a late afternoon drink in the sun. And it was lovely. Let's see what more there is to explore!

Warmth trumps style...