Mallorca. 14-21 April 2004
Like true expats they
came, bearing welcome British Newspapers...
Congratulations to ten
valiant Meths(wo)men — nine walkers and one non-walker — who made it to the
hotel with only one car insisting upon a short extra recce through the back
streets of Portals!
We were blessed/cursed
with plenty of patriotic red, white (OK, silver), and blue transport; blessed
because it enabled people to 'do their own things'; cursed? — well, you try
negotiating a convoy of drivers, unfamiliar with their just-hired cars, driving
on the 'wrong' side of the highway, and terrified by curvaceous,
roundabout-ridden roads, through traffic which swarmed like a disturbed
anthill. Literally HUNDREDS of all types of vehicles were scooting about side
lanes trying to evade the effects of a totally blocked motorway! There had been
a serious accident.
Much 'fun' was also
'enjoyed' on the day we visited Palma. The Blue car, declaring that it knew the
way, vanished jauntily into drizzle. Brandishing an assortment of brollies the
others made their sedate way to the castle where they admired the view for as
long as it was possible to survive brass monkey weather. Deciding not to suffer
the fate of the aforesaid monkey they eventually entered the edifice and
lingered as long as they could over the genealogy (legit — in gold, and
otherwise — in silver) of Mallorquin royalty. Proceeding smartly UP the
gracefully-curving and safely-modern DOWN route and clambering perilously DOWN
the steep, straight, worn-silly steps of the official UP circuit, they gawped
at the smoked kitchen, termite-munched beams, etc and braved the breezy roof.
The Red and Silver
contingent was about to abandon the Blue lot and go on to the Cathedral when
Blue materialised — having experienced a 'thrilling' extra tour of unknown and
undesirable sections of Palma.
Arrangements to meet
at the Cathedral were thwarted by the city council who, as usual, have decided
that the start of the tourist season is the moment to embark on extensive
road-works and city improvements. A miraculously driven Silver managed to keep
in touch with Red in spite of unexpected NO ENTRY signs and newly designated
ONE WAY streets. Meanwhile, having taken a cursory glance at the castle, Blue
was faced with the same problems and unable to follow given directions. With
great skill Blue found a parking slot in the innermost bowels of ancient Palma
and the entire group incredibly located each other in the Cathedral. (It must
have been the Meths smell!)
The next problem was
how to find Blue and then lead the convoy to the restaurant. DM³ said she knew
the way to Blue’s prehistoric parking spot... Like hell! She hadn’t counted on
more blocked-off streets. Red, followed by Silver, (and other perplexed cars as
well) squirmed through ever narrower and darker one-way alleys while Blue
waited and wondered what had happened to its pals. The Yorks efficiently
followed our route on the map, and uttered encouraging sounds of 'Ja! Ja! You
can pass!' while also coping valiantly from the passenger seat with the
windscreen wipers and heating knobs. (At the end of the week we used the air
conditioner).
Urged deeper and
deeper into the labyrinth and finally blocked skin-tightly into a cul-de-sac by
an entirely new set of bollards, the procession came to an inauspicious halt
not far from Blue. DM³ dashed between raindrops to indicate the address of the
restaurant, then did her famous (see below) abandoning act and left Blue to its
own devices. A veil should be drawn over the centimetre by centimetre
contortions which enabled Red, Silver, and several following cars in the queue,
first to reverse down the thread of an alley and then to veer sharply right
into an equally anorexic lane. We all drew in our breaths and made the cars
slimmer. But Meths folk can’t be beaten. We reunited over a good meal in a
fascinating local hostelry.
On the day of arrival
a convivial lunch at DM³’s extended (like the tummies) rather further than
intended, so we left for the walk on the first evening much later than planned.
Having led the jet-lagged throng over, and then up, rocky cliffs to a watch
tower the brave leader abandoned her flock in the sunset and raced off alone to
attend to unavoidable business. This attempt to evade the responsibility for
the meet and lose her sheep failed. They cleverly found the suggested
alternative route home and reached the hotel in time for supper.
During the next six
days, starting with a hike, we walked on alternate days and sight-saw on the
intervening days.
We managed many of the
proposed objectives suggested in circular 64. That was both a great, unexpected
achievement and a huge credit to the stamina and cheery attitude of all
participants. They even put up with the collie’s 'skilful?' diversity of lunch
times — all done to avoid monotony, of course!?: once at noon (French Hours)
because she mis-read her watch; once at 15.00 (Spanish Hours) due to the
adventures in Palma; and some meals actually dotted (by luck) more or less
round 13.00 (British Hours).
Walks — other than
the first evening run
From the tremendous
escarpment of The Archduke’s Circuit DM³’s direct line to the Clerk of the
Weather proved faulty so extensive views (down to the sea on both sides, and
over lower mountains) were slightly marred by wisps of haze. All 10 walkers
completed this long excursion (our second jaunt) and scorned the available two
escape routes.
Homeward bound the
'Border Collie' did her best again to discard her responsibilities by shooting
off down the motorway. This, of course, was merely a character-building test of
the type so beloved by the army!! Would they find their ways back? Our noble
Methsmembers rose admirably to the challenge. Both Silver and Blue devised
their own more 'interesting' routes home taking in only small deviations to
view exciting(?) unscheduled sights before remembering that they should be
heading towards 'Anthrax' (ie Andratx) After that DM³ gave up trying to lose
her flock.
It rained heavily
during the night before the third walk. Four people remained in Portals Nous to
enjoy what turned out to be a gloriously bright day there. So then we were
seven. We staunchly (or dubiously) set out towards the clouds that glowered
over dark mountains. En route a mobile ‘phone informed us that Blue’s driver
had left his boots behind at the hotel. That gave him the perfect excuse to
drive home after he’d deposited his passengers at the mist-swept start. So then
we were six.
Abandoning the idea of
doing a peak first and then exploring the lower-level Canaletta, we reversed
our plans and were soon rewarded by pleasant sunshine which lit our pretty
lunchtime glade. A talkative, overflowing stream made a small water-meadow
complete with hundreds of dancing lilies.
Having eaten, we
walked along the narrow top of an ancient waterway. This hugs round faces of
cliff and slides down a wide spectacular valley with steep sides and gorgeous
views. Distant plains showed far below. Water gurgled through the pipe at our
feet. The foot-path-thin Canaletta passed over a three-arched bridge with
nothing on either side... and when we later had to circumnavigate a promontory
into space by threading a short tunnel one member, who had so far borne up
extremely bravely, decided that 'enough was enough' and sat down to wait. So
then we were five. We promised to return within 20 minutes and left her to the
devastating sounds of unexplained falling stones and crackling branches. A
little further on another anti-exposurist, sick of our rear views, decided he’d
lie low so that he could take full frontal snaps as we returned... (Polevault,
of course was all for as much exposure as possible!) So then we were four...
Luckily the day stayed
fine so no-one slipped off (!) and we collected our friends on the way back.
Finally we nearly
achieved D’Almallux Peak but, discouraged by large boulders with multiple
razor-sharp edges on a short cut, we left the summit to its own devices when
returning clouds started to embrace it too amorously.
As the week
progressed, the weather became finer and finer. The fourth walk turned into
two! Books expounding the difficulties and dangers of the climb to Tomir
deterred tired members although DM³ assured them that the texts were
exaggerating. Three people set off alone and managed to avoid being blown off
Tomir before completing a different-terrain circuit back to their car. Meanwhile,
Daphne kept her mouth shut (an unusual event!) and led five others on an
excursion which, in fact, entailed more tricky exposure than the Tomir ascent.
They all managed it without turning many hairs though the wind did its best to
upset the whiskers on several knobbly knees of optimists who appeared in shorts
for this fairly low-level outing.
An extra amble was
introduced into a sight-seeing day when (pagans that we are) we sought the
enigmatic Camel Rock near LLuc Monastery instead of following the stations of
the cross on the road up a kopje. The extensive monastery area was heaving with
people carrying long staves topped with tufts of rosemary. They were
celebrating the meeting of two virgins. We are not clear as to when, where or
why the virgins of Rocio and Pilar met but we watched, fascinated, as hundreds
of people danced Sevillanas and ate at long wooden tables under a vast roof.
When DM³ felt a tug on her rucksack she swung round ready to swipe an expected
thieving Gypsy only to be over-ecstatically greeted by friends eager to show
off their frilly Sevillana outfits.
We enjoyed:
·
views
from the heights down to blue sea which sparkled when the sun shone and lashed
itself into white horses most of the time.
·
On
Caragoli peak: Mallorquin Hierbas served in tiny plastic liqueur glasses’
(routine Mallorquin picnic equipment).
·
daily
thermos tea/coffee and biscuits, always below the looming heights of mountains,
and once incongruously but hilariously seated on tarmac in a monastery car park
round a tablecloth contrived from a (clean) plastic rubbish sack.
·
lunch
in a vast hall that was once a wine cellar. Enormous antique wine vats
decorated the walls, a grape press, laden with hams and huge peronnes (bottles
with long pointy spouts from which to drink without touching the spout), faced
the entrance. Bull Fight posters lent colour.
·
an
elliptical boat trip (the circuit was elliptical not the boat) undertaken by
two ladies who braved the choppy seas.
·
observing
the distant islands of Ibiza and Cabrera (and perhaps seeing without noticing
Menorca Island).
·
the
sight and sounds of a lone Mallorquin bag-piper on a rocky cliff-top which had
splendid sea vistas.
·
much
excellent camaraderie and many jokes (mostly in good taste, believe it or not!
There wasn’t even the slightest communt when a very dark gentleman and his
older white lady-friend — both apparently English ! — asked us to take their
photograph.).
·
seeing
an ancient, but still functioning, olive oil factory with its great conical
stone crushers and the 'rush' mats between which mush is squeezed to produce
the oil.
·
a
memorable drive down the endlessly winding road through strange boulder-ridden
scenery to the clear waters of Sa Colobra Gulf and, once there, the longish,
damp, narrow tunnels which take pedestrians through a bluff into the lower end
of the Torrente de Pareis Gorge. At present this is filled with a lake of cold
fresh water.
·
the
hotel which provided pleasing seaward views. Despite dead vegetables (offset by
some tasty dishes and prawns) we received good value for money in a pleasant
environment with friendly cheerful service.
·
the
antics of Toni in the hotel restaurant. We hope that he has never watched
Fawlty Towers and didn’t realise why we called him 'Manuel'.
·
an
uproarious evening when eight performers demonstrated some Mallorquin dancing —
(well, the visitors put on a excellent show of seeming to enjoy it and two good
sports even joined in at the end) There was a moment when we wondered just what
sort of dancing was about to be shown as one of the Marias, hot from her
prancing, flapped her traditional skirts and showed precisely what she had on
underneath. That really broke the ice and the only reason we didn’t all end up
dancing The Gay Gordons and Strip the Willow was because DM³ hadn’t brought a
Scottish CD with her. The hotel’s delicious local tapas (snacks) helped the
event greatly.
We saw:
·
dotted
about in the woods: MANY ancient charcoal burning circles, some antique lime
kilns, lots of 'desirable?', though decaying, stone dwellings once used by the
charcoal burners and lime makers. One wonders how they survived in those remote
areas. Snow pits are large and beautifully lined with stone. Here, in times
before fridges and freezers, snow was compacted into ice in layers separated by
straw and, in summer, mules carried chunks of ice down to people who could
afford such luxury. We found covered springs, another flowing unhindered from
the mountainside, and one gushing very powerfully forth from
just-below-water-level into the minor lake at Sa Colobra.
·
on
cliff tops: watch towers with fine views along the mountainous coastline. In
some cases anyone wanting to reach the top level of the tower was provided only
with metal rungs — rather loose — and stone steps leading apparently into the
void — all very exciting!
·
Sa
Foradada: The distinctive whale-shaped peninsular pierced by a huge hole at
precisely the right spot to represent the whale’s eye. A white trig point
occurs very aptly above the 'blow-hole'.
Birds seen/heard:
·
one
soaring and one pair of inquisitive vultures,
·
two
inspectorial eagles,
·
roaming
ravens,
·
one
unrelenting cuckoo,
·
two
pairs of hoopoe,
·
scuttling
blackbirds in good voice,
·
charmingly
tame and rosily russet chaffinches,
·
dozens
of doves,
·
scores
of seagulls,
·
some
sea falcons,
·
cliff
martins,
·
night
jars,
·
LBJs,
and other birds, some sunbathing on beaches while we shivered in sweaters.
Flora:
·
(apart
from cultivated plants): three types of ground orchid,
·
cliff-tops
of dancing wine-coloured gladioli,
·
dazzling
fields of varied yellow/white/mauve flowers,
·
shimmering
sprays of pinky-silver shoulder-height asphodels,
·
lovely
blue rosemary,
·
not
much fruit blossom (citrus and probably cherry and/or apple),
·
numerous
lilies of various sizes and vastly-different shaped blooms,
·
red,
blue and mauve pimpernel,
·
cephalaria,
·
scabies,
·
euphorbia,
·
globularia,
·
thistles
short and tall,
·
cistus
(various shades),
·
Cytinis
ruber — tiny waxy crimson and parasitic on roots of pink cistus, moluccella,
gorse, broom, dandelions, daisies, poppies etc, etc etc for those with eyes to
see.
·
Various
trees and shrubs, in particular olives, almonds, apricots, carobs, two types of
small oak (one with holly-like leaves),
·
and
thousands of Mediterranean pines which encroached when oaks were felled long
ago by charcoal-makers to pay taxes to kings on the mainland. The Romans first
imported the pines to make boats, furniture and buildings.
Fauna on the
mountains:
·
loads
of (reasonably unfrightened) wild goats,
·
one
snake-in-a-hurry,
·
one
large bulbous-eyed locust,
·
meandering
mules and dreamy donkeys,
·
sheep
with tinkling bells,
·
one
motorcycling dog,
·
a
company of feral cats...
·
some,
but not too many, other walkers including two lone individuals who shared our
end-of-walks tea and talk.
Sayings:
·
Polevault:
as we beheld an 18-month-old nymph cavorting in a woodland glade: 'How did that
get here? I’ve just strained a gut to reach this point...!' (We found her
parents beside the well.)
·
DM³’s
car: 'I can find my own way to that hotel now. You don’t need to drive.'
·
Lord
of the Big Ruo: 'I’ve got waterproofs for everything except my codpiece!'
·
The
Duchess of York: 'In an ‘art’ display in Oslo one of the exhibits was a
disturbed clutter of furniture bearing dirty crockery and filthy cutlery.'
Comment: DM³’s house was a Nobel-Prize-winning ‘art’ exhibit for the entire
week.
·
Socks:
'I know the way...'
·
Daphne:
'I can’t find...' Her face flannel turned up mysteriously under a pile of dirty
plates on the sink. Her radio had taken refuge under the bed in the spare room!
! Her hairbrush was in the toolkit of the car!!!!
Summits attained:
·
Galatzó
(by those who arrived early);
·
Cap
d’Andixtol (the first afternoon);
·
Puigs
deTalaia Vella and Caragoli on the Archduke’s Route;
·
On
the last walking day Puig de Ses Bases, and Tomir
After the meet:
·
the
weather blew itself out and became crisp and clear as it should have been
throughout the METHS week. Dave and Daphne completed the Tomir peak-and-circuit
trip in sparkling conditions — and then the Monsoon and the ICE AGE arrived.
DM³ is investing in an ark and in ice skates. Meths people were much amused to
discover a Ferreteria in the village. So now in Meths-talk you buy hardware in
a 'Ferret shop'.
I hope — think — that,
in their individual ways, everyone who came enjoyed this Meet which broke new
ground in that we ‘sight-saw’ as well as walked. I cannot thank the
participants sufficiently for their positive outlooks and enthusiasm without
which the whole week would have been a damp wind-blasted flop. I also thank
them for the really lovely hydrangea in the pretty cache-pot and for the
hilarious card. Not only is the plant beautiful but I’m told that later on I’ll
be able to propagate it into several bushes in the garden. DM³
Present: The Lord and Lady of the Big Ruo,
The Duke and Duchess of York, Ballcrusher and Crushess, Mr & Mrs Socks,
Polevault and Missus. DM³.
©
WDYFO, 2004