"The water in Majorca ..."

[IaninSheffield]

This isn’t an account of a ‘proper tour’ and I pondered for a while whether it rightly has a place within this section but it is a travelogue so I guess it fits. It’s an account I wrote of a trip I made back in November when the weather was warmer, the days were longer and I was younger … well, by a coupla months anyway. I wrote the account contemporaneously so the tenses might flip back and forth - apologies for that! Maybe it might help folks who have wondered about heading out to the Balearics or refresh the memories of those who’ve already enjoyed their delights.

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Prologue

For the past few years my good friend and cycling buddy, Paul, has headed out to Mallorca with a few fellow members of his cycling club for a week’s warmish cycling during what, in the UK, tend to be the cooler spring months. A hotel provides their base, they have day rides around different parts of the island, and enjoy convivial times in the evening. I joined them one year on a summer trip to the French Alps and they’re a lovely bunch of folks, but mostly progress at a quicker pace than I prefer. Paul always speaks highly of Mallorca, both the cycling and the place, so I figured I too might enjoy a solo visit, so I could explore places at a pace more suited to my needs and desires.

​

Last year, November 2022, I had just such a trip booked and was ready to roll but unbeknownst to me I’d clearly angered the gods. With my bike boxed and loaded in the car, suitcase packed, and just hand luggage to finalise, I got a call from one of the hospital consultants with whom I’ve recently become acquainted. A slot had opened up for a procedure I needed … the following week right in the middle of when I should have been cycling the hills of Mallorca. I could have declined of course, but for better or worse I had on my sensible head and with only eight hours until I was supposed to leave, I decided to cancel the trip. Having been rather hobbled by two years of the pandemic and one thing or another, this was my first chance to treat myself but alas it had to be consigned to the back burner. Now, however, it’s not only returned to the front of the hob but is ready to serve.

I booked with Jet2 and am flying from Manchester airport to Palma airport where I’ll transfer to my hotel in Puerto Alcudia on the other side of the island. From what I’ve found, this location offers access to a wide variety of rides heading up into the Tramuntana mountains in the north or across the central rolling plains. I opted for a package deal which, in addition to the air fare, includes a half-board stay at a hotel with all the amenities a normal holidaymaker might expect but also serves the needs of cyclists Compared with my usual trips away, this will be a real luxury! At least I hope so.

​

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Those of a certain age are more likely to recognise the source of my choice of title. For those who never experienced the big hair and shoulder pads of the '80's:

 

[IaninSheffield]

Day 1, Home - Port d'Alcudia
30th Oct., 0 miles

Day 1 began early. Very Early! Although I was on a 06:45 flight I decided that a 01:30 departure time from home was the safest bet. At that time, crossing the Pennines should present no problems, despite several potential pinch points on the Woodhead Pass. And so it proved, allowing me to drop off the van earlier than I'd anticipated when booking the Drop and Go parking. Arriving at the check in point my first worry was put to rest and the van fitted under the 2m height barrier. I've measured its height multiple times, on each occasion finding it to be 1.94m but that still didn’t assuage my concerns. The auto number plate recognition system detected it was me and provided on screen instructions for the next steps before raising the barrier to allow me through. Even at this ridiculous time of day there were staff around to help you through the process; it really was smooth and efficient. I was glad I chose this slightly more expensive option rather than the cheaper outside parking where (on the rare occasions I’ve flown) I've found it difficult to find a spot. And given the rainy conditions, trudging across a vast parking lot to reach a bus stop would hardly have been fun. The bus from the Drop and Go arrived almost the moment I got there and the driver couldn't have been more pleasant and helpful. I soon got to grips with lugging both the bike box and suitcase across the concourse at Terminal 2 and found equally helpful staff at the Jet 2 desk who wafted me through checking in my luggage; both bike box and suitcase were well under the permissible weights - another worry sorted. Made it through security without being frisked; still, you can't have everything! With two hours to kill in departures before boarding, I had plenty of time to mosey around the shops (yawn!), grab a rather early but leisurely breakfast, then wander down towards the gates and back just to keep my legs working.

Although departures weren't especially busy, even at this hour there were people. Lots and lots of people. More than I've been amongst in many a while. I didn't feel comfortable and was glad when eventually we were called to our gate. We boarded on time and took off on time. Because I hadn't opted to pay to choose my seat, I was allocated one from those left after others had booked all the good ones. I was in the middle of three seats but luckily the one to my right which was a window seat was unoccupied leaving more space than I could have hoped for. Given that the flight was perhaps 95% full I chose to mask up for the first time in a while - again so many people in such a confined space, I felt it was prudent to do so. Wearing a mask for two or three hours is now hardly a challenge and if it reduces the chance of catching something unpleasant, then count me in.

Palma baggage hall​

The flight passed uneventfully and we arrived in Palma on time. After passing smoothly through security I went to pick up my case and bike box. Once again there were Jet2 staff on hand to help with any queries and directed me to the outsized luggage conveyor. Unfortunately it was bay 17, right up the other end of the baggage collection hall from where I was. When my box finally arrived I then had to hustle along back to the other end of the hall to collect my case, then back to the midpoint where more Jet2 staff directed me to the right transfer coach.

It was an hour's journey to cross the island to Pollença and the three drop-offs prior to mine, but far from being a hardship, I was grateful for the chance to view a bit of the island and gain some sense of scale. Even from my coach seat it was apparent that what many bloggers and vloggers had said - that drivers are for the most part wonderfully considerate towards cyclists… and, although it might not have been the Netherlands, I nevertheless saw quite a few! Check in at the hotel was as smooth as the rest of the day had been; I have to say how impressed I've been with all aspects of the Jet2 package; they really do seem to have got things nailed down.

After depositing my case in my well-appointed room, I took the bike down to the bike store which was quite impressive. It offered storage space for around seventy bikes - although there were only perhaps half a dozen in at the time - tools, a bike stand, track pump, a shower for cleaning your bike down, hanging hooks and cables plus locks for the bikes. Well impressed! It was however rather warm in the basement location so by the time I'd reassembled the bike (which seemed to be in one piece, phew!) I'd definitely got a bit of a dab on. It's actually pleasantly warm over here rather than being oppressively so in the way it probably is during the summer. Back in my room I unpacked my suitcase then took a much needed shower.

Port d'Alcudia marina​

With a few hours until the evening meal I took the opportunity to head out for a walk and get a sense of the locale. I was briefly tempted into a short acclimatisation ride, but the lack of both sleep and food suggested a different strategy. Down at the marina an onshore breeze had the little sports boats jostling one another at their moorings. I'll have to wander over for a closer look at the luxury gin palaces moored further out in the harbour on another occasion. When sheltered from the breeze and on the sunny side of the street, ambling along the road parallel to the sea shore in t-shirt and shorts was a delight, given the miserable weather I'd been driving through only a few hours ago. I called at the supermarket and picked up a couple of beers for the fridge in my room; it would be a shame for it to be doing all that chilling for naught.

Personalised door card?​

Back at the hotel I caught up with bits and bobs associated with settling in: what my route options are for tomorrow; what times the trains for Palma leave; and so on. Mostly it was about keeping active to stop my eyelids from shutting up shop before the evening meal. I was curious what it might be like, again, having never package toured before. I needn't have worried; the dining room was plenty large enough and filled mostly with two person tables, only a quarter of which were occupied when I went down. It was as I'd expected; a buffet style meal, with hot and cold starters and main courses with plenty of variety. Tonight I tried a small portion of several different dishes to decide which I prefer, since I suspect there'll be a base range which is available each night with a few dishes which switch. We shall see. I treated myself to a cerveza to whet my whistle and also ordered agua. Shan't make that mistake again! The beer was €3.60 for a pint-ish which was fine, but the 500ml glass bottle of water at €2.50 was more than a bit cheeky. The quality of the meal was fine; no more than that, but with several days of tough cycling to come, being able to eat as much as I want is probably more important.

 

[HobbesOnTour]

This isn’t an account of a ‘proper tour’

Enlighten me, please, oh wise one! What is this "proper" tour of which you speak?

Now, however, it’s not only returned to the front of the hob but is ready to serve.

Good to read.

but with several days of tough cycling to come, being able to eat as much as I want is probably more important.

There's all the evidence of detailed planning and lots of thought from early departures to choice of carparks, the measurement of vehicle height, the incredibly neatly organised bike bag, the bike shop....... and then there's this!
Eat all you want??? Now, that's a "proper" tour!

Looking forward to reading the rest of it.

 

[steveindenmark]

This is good. I too have found that if you start planning it months in advance and nail it all down from the comfort of home. Things run much smoother. Even smoother than you imagined.

I look forward to the rest of the trip.

 

[IaninSheffield]

What is this "proper" tour of which you speak?

Well, I guess a 'proper' tour moves on from place to place over time but, hey, if travelling around the area whilst staying in the same place each night constitutes a tour, then I guess this is one.

 

[IaninSheffield]

Day 2 - Sineu
31st Oct., 62 miles

The first day cycling in a new area is always exciting, more so when it's a country in which I've never cycled before. So today was bound to be good; I just hadn't appreciated how good.

Having had a wonderful twelve hours sleep to catch up on what I'd missed, I was down at breakfast shortly after the 8:30 start. There were more folks around than last evening, so I guess a good number of guests are on B&B rather than half board. The range of options, hot and cold, was excellent so I fuelled up for the day's task, despite choosing a gentle introductory ride. Then it was kit on, retrieve the bike from the store, and hit the road. From the empty pegs in the store it looks like most folks prefer to make an early start; I had wheels rolling by 9:30, the time I seem to tend towards wherever I am. The first few miles to Sa Pobla and onwards were across the central plain and as such were flat. This was to ease me into cycling in Spain - getting used to the infrastructure and how fellow road users tend to behave. I have to say I'm impressed! Most vehicles only overtake when it's safe for all, pass at a reasonable speed, and allow plenty of space.

Guess we're not in Yorkshire any more Toto!​

Passing the station at Sa Pobla from where I hope to be catching a train later in the week, I was quickly out onto even quieter single track lanes where there was a distinct sense of peace. Even birdsong was rare, save for an occasional squabble between hens or crowing from a rooster declaring his presence. I don't know why I was surprised there was so little traffic; maybe I expected a greater concentration on an island of a similar size to Yorkshire. The range of buildings was quite stark, from a few grand villas, to modest fincas on a scrap of land, to derelict, presumably former farm buildings.

Shortly after skirting the edge of Inca I reached the outward limit of my westerly track and made the turn south then north east, passing first through Costitx and on to Sineu. The terrain now added interest in the form of a more rolling landscape. Sometimes I'd be on a flat, straight, quiet main road, then I'd be turning back and forth, up and down, once more briefly feeling remote from civilisation. Entering centres of population, whether villages or small towns, often involved a short, stiff climb; many of them seem to have been built atop hills, maybe proclaiming the status of the church? Or military defence? Maybe I need to look more into that.

Sineu windmill​

I took the spot of lunch that I didn't really need sitting outside a cafe in the plaza to the rear of Sineu’s grand town church. Ordering the coffee went well, the 'Tollades'(?) less so. From the three choices on the menu I figured it might be a toasted sandwich of some sort (so why not 'tostada'?) and rather than the intended cheese or tuna, I opted for the 'dolce' or sweet version, whatever that might be. My pronunciation was perhaps more Italian than Spanish, but a little finger pointing at the menu item got me where I needed to be. As a bonus the waitress (kindly or slightly irritatedly) helped me with the pronunciation of dulce - “dulsay”, apparently. Anyway when it arrived it was basically toast, butter and jam, but the bread was quality bread and it was all I needed at this point.

From Sineu it was along more varied peaceful lanes at a gentle pace, contrasted with the flat, straight stretches which encouraged a hastier pedal rate, until I reached the resort town of Can Picafort. The short section along the seafront/prom made it clear that the holiday season proper had come to a close, as it is wont to do at the end of October. There were blissfully few holidaymakers around, many of the seafront businesses had put up their shutters, and even the seagulls were notable by their absence.

Seafront, Can Picafort​

From here it was a straight run back to Port d'Alcudia and despite today being one of acclimatisation, I wondered whether I'd done enough. Perhaps more accurately I wondered whether I was up to the ascents that I knew were on some of my other routes. So, still feeling comfortable I decided on a short extension - a quick ride along the north coast of the little peninsula that juts out from Alcudia. I had planned this short out and back route as a potential warm up exercise and knew it had a couple of climbs, so on returning almost to the hotel I made a left turn for a little extra value.

Descending needed to be … thoughtfully considered!​

The road out towards Cabo del Pinar is only about five miles from base but, being along a precipitous coast, tends upwards and downwards quite regularly. And sharply! I also added an extra slice of climbing up to the Ermita de la Victoria, expecting to have great views back over to Alcudia but alas was thwarted by the trees and topography. On the way back down I was treated to my first taste of hairpin descents with minimal protection from sheer drops. To say that my abdominal contents were wibble-wobbling would be an understatement as I gripped the brake levers with the same ferocity as a Jack Russell with a bone!

By the time I rolled into the bike store back at base I had 62 miles under my belt; not bad for a warm up. It felt as though I'd barely been out, but that's less due to my (lack of) fitness and more to the joy I experienced while out in the saddle. The temperature was absolutely perfect; completely comfortable when pootling along at a steady pace, pressing on more forcefully, or sitting at rest outside a cafe. Rather than scorching the skin from flesh as the sun tends to do in summer around these parts, instead it soothingly caressed. Also the landscape was gorgeously varied, surprising me with how green it was when covering the universally red soil and stone.

Another one to add to the lengthening list of 'Great Days of Cycling'. I've been blessed with a few this year … and perhaps there's yet more to come?

 

[Emanresu]

Road surfaces look good and smooth so no worries about being on the edge. And do they have a local dialect there as pronunciation can vary?

 

[IaninSheffield]

Road surfaces look good and smooth so no worries about being on the edge. And do they have a local dialect there as pronunciation can vary?

Local dialect? Yep, you're much quicker on the uptake than I was. More to come on this

 

[IaninSheffield]

Day 3 - LLuc
1st Nov., 47 miles

Today's target was the hills or more correctly, the mountains, the Tramuntana range to be precise and a playground for serious (and leisure) cyclists to improve fitness. Me? Just going for the views.

LLuc Monastery​

I really am enjoying my breakfasts, despite them being much later than I would normally partake. At least it means I get a long lie in, which is probably no bad thing. Whilst I enjoy a good breakfast in a B&B, if you're there for more than a couple of days, the choice becomes somewhat repetitive. Here at the Eix however, there's always an excellent choice and of course plenty of it; just what a cyclist needs before setting out for the day. Today, for me, it was orange juice, muesli with a luminous green yogurt (my choice!), scrambled egg with mushrooms on toast, followed by baguette with marmalade, and of course coffee. That may sound excessive, but I'll remind you dear reader of where I'm heading today, more specifically, the Col de Femenia at 515m or 1700ish ft.

I was away relatively early (for me!) around 9:15, beating more of my fellow cyclists than yesterday, judging by the number of bikes still on hooks. My route took me over to Alcudia, briefly along back roads then up the coast towards Port Pollença. It was wonderful cycling along in the sun on a wide cyclepath, just a few feet from the water's edge, tiny little waves kissing the narrow, pebbly beach. Visiting the town will have to be for another day as my route cuts inland at its outskirts. From here towards Pollença the road almost imperceptibly climbed, but the change in direction brought me to the attention of the south westerly that had been forecast yesterday. On a main road, or rather the generous cyclepath provided, there was little shelter for the first few miles until I began to mix it with the upwards gradient and found myself surrounded by steep sided walls of rock with the road snaking back and forth.

A sign on the roadside warned that the Col de Femenia was 7.7km ahead at an average gradient of just over 5%. That doesn't sound too bad, but I've heard a few YouTubers comment that that sign takes a far too optimistic view. To be honest, although I found 8km of constant uphill quite challenging, and I was definitely ready for reaching the summit, it wasn't as tough as I'd been under the impression. From cycling along the coast earlier up to this point, I was clearly on a route frequented by more cyclists than I had been yesterday. Every so often I'd see singletons, pairs and even a few group rides on the opposite side of the road, as well as those regularly passing me! Up the hills it was the same, although during the ascent I managed to pass a handful of others. Naturally I didn’t manage to haul in any racing snakes though!

Loads of visitors in Lluc barbecuing amongst the rocks … food that is!​

The views both right and left were often stunning yet my priority, I'm embarrassed to say, was to reach the Col without pausing, just to prove I could … if I could! And I did. The scenery was particularly rugged and rocky, sharp outcrops of what looked like limestone, boulder fields, all intimately sited alongside the road. This was the case right through to Lluc, a thirteenth century sanctuari accompanied by a handful of other dwellings, all in the terracotta coloured stone that characterises much of the island. From here there was a short climb up to what most cyclists seem to call 'the Repsol garage', a filling station with attached cafe that provides welcome sustenance after your climb. Not for me today though; a bit early and I had plans for a later stop.

Now it was the descent, a similar drop in feet to that which I'd recently climbed but this felt more demanding. The precipitous drops protected by two foot high concrete blocks offered no solace for me. I was passed by far more folks on the way down, which I could argue was because two routes came together at the garage and channelled more folks down this descent, but no, it was simply that I was taking my time. Not to enjoy the views, though they were magnificent, it was more about concentrating intently on the road as it wound back and forth, especially at the numerous tight hairpins. I did stop at a viewpoint to grab a couple of snaps and in the few minutes I was there, a trio of what seemed to me to be professional standard riders flew around the hairpin at the viewpoint. How on earth did their tyres adhere to the tarmac? Have they no fear?!

I gingerly made my way downwards at a pace I could cope with, eventually running out into the village of Caimari then onwards onto similar back roads to those I'd revelled in yesterday - narrow and winding, rolling rather than flat, and other than an occasional cyclist or two, perfectly peaceful and decidedly more relaxing than ascending or descending mountain passes.

In the town square at Campanet I took a break at a cafe, successfully ordering un bocadillo con queso y jamon, y un cerveza pequeña. My beverage of choice is usually coffee at cafe stops but service sometimes has a more … relaxed approach over here and the coffee can end up cold before you get your food. On a warm and sunny day, beer seems to make more sense … in moderation of course! Following a long rest (due to the pace of the service) it was back to the wonderful quiet roads with that south westerly now in my favour all the way to Alcudia then to the hotel. A great day's cycling and not too exhausting; certainly encouraging if I elect to take on some of the other climbs this week. I even went out for a brief run to Alcudia and back. The late afternoon sun cast the ancient walls of the town in rather fetching light.

Seeking a modicum of recovery, tomorrow I suspect I'll aim for an easier day, at least in terms of climbing. But who knows how I'll feel after breakfast.

 

[IaninSheffield]

Day 4 - Palma RailRide
2nd Nov., 56 miles

Palma cathedral​

Today's plans wobbled slightly, although were ultimately completed; it was all down to the weather. After yesterday's exertions in the mountains I was aiming for a gentler ride, settling on a RailRide which involved catching a train to Palma then cycling back from there. Having checked the timetable, and being aware that bikes aren't allowed on trains during the rush hours, the earliest I could reasonably get without missing breakfast (no chance of that happening!) was the 10:10, failing that, the 10:50. However, the nearest station is at Sa Pobla, some nine miles away. So the plan was breakfast at 8:30, on the bike by 9:10, thereby leaving an hour to cycle nine miles across flat terrain. Piece of cake. Err, no! I failed in my duties the previous night by not checking the forecast closely enough. I knew it would be sunny first thing, possibly clouding over around midday, then with a chance of showers in the afternoon. What I hadn't checked was the wind. How could I possibly have been so derelict? The breeze which sporadically made its presence felt yesterday had now stiffened up somewhat. This meant I'd have a tail wind most of the way from Palma, but cycling to Sa Pobla it would be in my face … and it was!

I rushed through breakfast so didn't enjoy my food (that's a bad thing), only got away by 9:15 so was 5 minutes behind schedule from the outset (still not a problem - 9 miles to complete 55 minutes was still doable), then made a wrong turn leaving Alucudia (didn't hear the warning beep from the Garmin because of the wind noise). After a 5 minute faff I was once more on track but as I left the town and got onto the straight, open roads of the plain, the full fury of the breeze hit me in the face, slowing my pace to less than that I generated heading up to the Coll yesterday. I was then trapped in one of those 'will I or won't I make it?!' conundrums, flicking back and forth between ‘If I push hard I can still make it’ and ‘Just ease off and wait till the next train’. I reached the station at 10:10 and was put out of my misery as the train pulled away just as I arrived. And after all that effort! On a supposedly easy day!

Sa Pobla plaza​

Seeking to pluck opportunity out of adversity, I decided to head into Sa Pobla and check the town out. Although the narrow streets are loosely arranged in a grid format, ubiquitous 'No entry' signs conspired to make my path to the town centre far more circuitous than it perhaps need have been. Nevertheless I eventually found myself in the town plaza only to be overcome by underwhelmment. The square was gloomy and claustrophobic, though how much of that was due its size or the tree canopy or lack of a grand church I wouldn't like to say. (The above image perhaps provides a more accurate impression than my mood at the time). At least navigating around the town killed some time and I headed back to the station where, ten minutes before departure time the train was at the platform and passengers were boarding. I spotted at least four cyclists, two of whom were boarding in the front cycle area and two the rear. I hoped Spanish rail operators would be relaxed about the number of bikes on board, and it turns out (at least on this occasion) they were, with me and another chap standing with our bikes in the entryway. I took the chance to try out the smart card payment system where you tap in as you start the journey and tap out at the end. Simple … assuming no errors need resolving!

Palma interchange​

The journey to Palma took just under an hour; it's only about 40 miles, but there's over a dozen stations. Despite the rather grubby external appearance of the carriages - graffiti partially masked by months of accumulated grime - the service seems quite efficient. The transport interchange at Palma is on multiple levels with two below ground; the city also has a metro in addition to the railway and buses. I took the lift up to ground level rather than risk whacking someone with the bike when ascending the stairs. Emerging into daylight I was immediately assailed by the heat - the breeze was not penetrating into this part of the city - and the frenetic pace! The interchange is on a major multi lane thoroughfare, one which had the potential to be challenging for cyclists, who were notable by their absence. Rather than immediately start my route home I intended to see at least some of the city so headed down to the waterfront. I walked with the bike a little until I spotted a two-way cycle lane heading in the general direction of where I wanted to go. Getting to the sea was challenging to say the least. The Garmin tried to direct me onto cycleways where possible but sometimes I was on main roads jostling with all sorts of traffic, including incredibly sprightly electric scooters which seem very popular over here. Earlier I shared the train with a scooterist(?) for about half the journey. If I remember correctly they're not allowed on trains at all back in the UK.

Palma waterfront​

By luck rather than design I eventually found myself on the waterfront, which couldn't be more different to the quiet Can Picafort through which I'd passed the other day. I was confronted by a massive marina full of boars which obstructed much of my view. There was a narrow walkway and cyclepath where users often didn't seem to be aware of the existence of one another and from here we were all now exposed to the full power of the sou'westerly. Waves battered the sea wall throwing spray into the air in such a way that I was reticent about taking out my camera. I of course also had a ride to embark upon and because I wasn't feeling the love for Palma (just too big a city for me) I gave the Garmin a second chance as I asked it to find a way back to the start of my route. It redeemed itself, finding a pleasant route through tight, wiggling, one way streets whose architecture implied significant history. Maybe I was in the old town?

After a short scary stretch along the busy road in front of the interchange, I was soon on a cycleway which escorted me the few miles outside of the city. The cycling infrastructure is far from perfect when compared with the Netherlands - it's mostly too narrow, mixes too much with pedestrian infrastructure, and crossings can be confusing - but it's a darned sight better than Sheffield back in the UK.

Cycling along the quiet lanes​

The route home was around forty miles and much of this was along the quiet single lane backroads I'm finding so alluring. My journey was punctuated by occasional villages or towns to spice up the interest and with the Tramuntana range a continuous companion on my left flank.

Originally I intended to find a cafe for lunch and a break out of the saddle; Binnissalem, Lloseta, or maybe Campanet again. Yet I became all too well aware of a bank of aggressive looking clouds to my rear being pushed along by the same breeze that was making my cycling easy and rapid. I was feeling good and the thought of sitting outside a cafe in less than sunny, breezy conditions held little appeal, so push on I did. Passing through Selva I think it was, I got caught up in the rush of senior school break out. Given my former career, this is hardly an event with which I'm unfamiliar, but seeing so many teenagers spilling through the all too narrow streets of a historical town was a different experience altogether. They weren't at all unruly, just a seemingly never ending flow.

Campanet​

After Campanet I picked up the same route back as I had yesterday; almost as enjoyable, but somewhat tempered by the threat of the looming clouds. Arriving back at base and having garaged the bike for the night, as I was leaving the cycle storage, the two cyclists I'd shared a train carriage with rolled in. I seem to remember they had the foresight to leave the train a couple of stops before central Palma thereby avoiding the angst I was obliged to endure, a strategy it might be wise to adopt for future RailRides.

After showering, cleaning kit, and sorting 'stuff', I was about to head to the supermarket for some bananas and a snack - the hotel provides a good choice of fruit at mealtimes but not bananas - when the rain that had been chasing me home finally caught up. I'll manage without bananas for another day and my appetite for the evening meal will be all that better for not snacking. Even rain, at the right time, can have positive outcomes. Sometimes!

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Then it was kit on, retrieve the bike from the store, and hit the road. From the empty pegs in the store it looks like most folks prefer to make an early start

This "store", is it a part of the hotel? Separate?

Most vehicles only overtake when it's safe for all, pass at a reasonable speed, and allow plenty of space.

I haven't checked it out in detail but my understanding is that some pretty hefty laws back up a generally "we all get along" attitude. I actually find it quite uncomfortable (still) to be riding (meandering) on a decent road with a car pulled in behind displaying a caution that is unusual just about anywhere else.

I took the spot of lunch that I didn't really need

Spain!

the joy I experienced while out in the saddle

That's what it's all about!

Really enjoying this!

 

[IaninSheffield]

This "store", is it a part of the hotel? Separate?

Yes, part of the hotel. It's a large basement area kitted out to store/garage your bikes.
Whilst searching he Jet2 site I selected 'holidays for cyclists'. The results returned then included hotels which are bike friendly and provide similar facilities.

I actually find it quite uncomfortable (still) to be riding (meandering) on a decent road with a car pulled in behind displaying a caution that is unusual just about anywhere else.

I know what you mean and often feel similarly unsettled; I'd much rather they were past so I can get back to enjoying the ride. This sometimes happens back here too.
On balance I guess it's better than having some plonker shoot past on a blind bend.

 

[IaninSheffield]

Day 5 - Cap de Formentor
3rd Nov., 35 miles

Before setting out today I remembered to account for both yesterday’s ride and the weather. It mostly worked out! Since yesterday had been an <ahem!> easy ride, I could afford a bit more challenge from today’s. The forecast suggested I might expect a reasonable morning with rain showers in the afternoon, together with a side serving of even stronger wind than yesterday. The forecasters (from several sources) got that partially correct, scoring on my grading system maybe seven out of ten?

I emerged from my slumber intentionally a little earlier than previous days and having discovered that breakfast appears to be served from 8:00 rather than the 8:30 I (think I) was told I decided to give it a try. Indeed I found the dining room to be well populated with hungry breakfasters at 8:15 - that would make a difference when I next aim to catch a train.

Suitably fuelled, today’s mission would be Cap de Formentor, another of the classic Mallorca cycling challenges. From here in Port Alcudia, it’s not that far to the lighthouse at the Cap, some eighteen miles or so, but it involves two 700 feet climbs. And that’s just on the way there! Truthfully I wasn’t sure whether I’d be able to manage it, but I did take heart from the climb up the Coll de Femenia the other day. Today’s climbs would be shorter but with more total ascent and with only a slight increase in average gradient. Time to find out!

Cycling along the coast to Port Pollenca​

The first few miles took the same outbound route as the one to the Coll, travelling along the coastal cycling path but instead of turning off before Port Pollenca, this time it was straight through. The path travels much of the way along the prom and cycling alongside a sandy beach for a few miles is a real treat, especially since the tourist throngs have now gone and most places are blissfully quiet. The majority of bars and restaurants have closed of course, but that presents me with no problems at all.

Port Pollenca sea front​

Having been visible for several miles during the approach, the climb begins immediately after leaving town. It’s quite intimidating and gave me no reassurance whatsoever. The hairpin bends are quickly upon you leaving no question that you’re embarking on a serious climb, but despite the initially worrying views, I was in good shape when I crested the first summit and took a breather at the viewpoint. It’s impressive and well worth the effort getting there, especially since there’s a downhill section to follow taking you almost back to sea level.

Just one of the spectacular views​

A couple more hairpins on the way down hint at the effort that will be needed on the return journey and with a precipitous drop on one side or the other, introduce more than a frisson of excitement. The next mile or so provided shade for those hotter days in the form of a Mediterranean style woodland - small leaved smallish trees - a real contrast to some of the wide expansive vistas offered in other sections of this ride. The climb continued but now on the opposite and windward side of the cape, snaking back and forth as the road complied with the demands imposed by the geology. My nerves from here to the lighthouse continually jangled as each new bend saw me buffeted by fierce gusts of wind in directions I could not predict. On one side I was protected from an error in judgement which would have me plunging to my doom by nothing more than a two feet high barrier, whilst on the other was a drop into a gulley and smashing into the jagged rock face. That might be an overdramatisation, but there was no telling my nerves that as I began the descent leading to the bend before the final short climb. Even during the final few hundred metres climbing slowly uphill I felt the need to stick to the centre line of the road and inconvenience the car waiting patiently at my rear.

Lighthouse, Cap de Formentor​

With only eighteen miles done - despite my fraught nerves - I had no need to avail myself of an extortionately priced (so I’ve been told) coffee and knew I’d be heading straight back. That would be after I weaved my way between the dozen or so Fiat 500s jockeying for the meagre parking options; must have been a club outing. Of course the wind battered me once more for the first few miles until I reached the leeward side of the cape and relative safety.

Looking back over the approach road to the lighthouse​

A good number of motorcylists had also made the journey to the Cap and I couldn’t help but think what I (as a former motorcyclist) would have made of that trip. Sure, a 200+kg Suzuki might provide a bit more resistance than a sub 10kg Sabbath Aspire, but I’d argue winds gusting above 30mph are fun for no two-wheeled riders, whatever their steed.The final climb came and went, never troubling me too much, before I plunged down … OK, I gingerly made the final long descent towards Pollenca.

View back over Port Pollenca and beyond​

The views over the bay were stunning, especially given how clouds scudding across the sky bent light levels at ground and sea level to their whim. Just a scoot through the town, a ride back along the coast and I was once more back at base. As I garaged the bike I got nattering to a slightly older fellow retiree from ‘t’other side on’t border’ who was saying he comes out here two or three times a year, sometimes for a month at a time. He loves the place and his cycling while he’s here. I’m beginning to see why. At no point on today’s ride had I been weighed in the balance and found wanting and I’m starting to think that I might give Sa Calobra a shot after all.

After getting some kit washed and out on the balcony to dry, much of the afternoon was still available so I headed down to the supermarket, grabbed a few bits to eat then strolled a short way to enjoy my picnic on the beachfront walkway. As I saw in Pollenca, there are so few holidaymakers around, barely a dozen folks passed me in the half hour it took to enjoy my snack. I then walked back towards the central hub and had a wander around the marina where boats to suit various budgets were moored.

With the walk having loosened any tight muscles I was now obliged to consider a short run. My better side won the toss and off I went to retrace some of my steps along the beachfront. Such a delight with the sun starting its downward track and a now gentle breeze combining to provide comfortable conditions. Now I could turn towards my evening meal feeling as though I’d earned it.

Oh and that rain forecast for this afternoon? Like yesterday it finally arrived around 6pm when I was safely back in my lodgings. Even threw in a little thunder and lightning for good measure. If it continues like that for the remainder of the week, I'll be a happy chap.

 

[IaninSheffield]

Day 6 - Palma RailRide & Puig de Randa
4th Nov., 65 miles

Since yesterday was a little shorter, in theory I could extend the distance today, assuming of course that I could find a route that accommodated the weather. The south westerlies that have been plaguing the island for the past few days were forecast to strengthen some more, so I riffled through my list of planned routes and found another RailRide which mostly tracked north after heading slightly south east.

An early breakfast was needed to allow me to once more cycle the nine miles to Sa Pobla to catch the slightly earlier weekend version of the 10:10. Despite even more ferocious headwinds than before, breakfasting earlier paid dividends, allowing me to arrive at the station with almost 15 minutes to spare. In these conditions it's not a pleasant start to the day, but if you want to access a wider range of the island's offerings, then catching the train becomes necessary.

Palma interchange metro platforms​

I started once more in Palma, making the mistake to tarry too long firing up the Garmin at the Interchange, thereby allowing an elderly drunk Catalan sympathiser to express his opinion on the Spanish government. He may not have been entirely clear but his chatter was rich with invective. Despite his state of inebriation I was impressed how well he held this conversation in English, not least at his capability with an expletive vocabulary. It was this chance conversation that made me think more about the geopolitical situation in Mallorca in relation to Spain. I hadn’t appreciated that the Balearics are an autonomous spanish region where both Castilian and Catalan are official languages (hence the dual language signs), but where the local dialect of Mallorquin is often spoken. There’s hardly any wonder my rudimentary Spanish has struggled at times!

Rather blowy again along Palma seafront​

Now more familiar with the surroundings I was quickly able to find the cycle paths down to the sea front and on to the southbound cycleways along the coast. On any other day (although perhaps not during high tourist season) cycling alongside the water in this way would have been a delight; today with a ferocious onshore gale, it was at times less than pleasant. Whether it was wind blown sand in your face, or the same sand strewn across the path threatening to throw your wheel out from under you, or the continual mist of sea spray, only the wind and kite surfers seemed to be getting the benefit.

After about five or six miles I turned inland and consequently got a slight boost from the wind, which now acted partly in my favour. After a short stretch on the backroads I now found myself on a more major road. Although traffic was sparse (and what little there was, was of course mindful), it travelled straight as a die for six miles, gradually climbing into the bargain. Eventually my target for this section of the ride nosed into view and gradually dominated the skyline ahead and to the east - Puig de Randa.

Llucmajor plaza​

Whilst passing through the charming town of Llucmajor, I declined the opportunity of a cafe stop in the square, keen to have at it with the Puig. There's also a cafe/restaurant at the former monastery on the summit, should I be so inclined. The climb towards the village of Randa is reasonable enough, but the ascent proper doesn't begin until just after when the gradient makes its presence felt. It's never a ridiculous climb but the first kilometre or so is the toughest part. Well beyond the village, and between the two peaks, you finally pop out onto the southern face (and into the fury of the wind) before a slightly more sheltered stretch. Although these were not sea cliffs like those yesterday, once again I found myself cycling alongside precipitous drops whilst being buffeted to and fro as one hairpin after another changes how the wind can both tease and intimidate. Before you can see the monastery, the radar and network transmitting station comes into view and you now have almost 360° views across the island.

Puig de Randa radio and radar installation​

Just a few hundred yards and a few more feet of climbing and you're in the monastery car park. I decided to give the restaurant a miss - I was neither desperate for food nor surprisingly even a break, and the thought of another terrifying descent under the close and merciless attention of the gale was preying on my mind. Better to get stuck in, so I did. There was even less traffic than on the Formentor challenge so I took every chance to take the centre line of the road, leaving as much wobble room as possible. Fun this was not, especially given that there were amazing views if only I'd dare let my eyes settle on them for more than a fraction of a second.

View west from the Puig de Randa​

The village of Randa marked the close of the descent proper, yet there was still a good deal of altitude to lose. Swooping down became fun as the gradient was never ridiculous, the roads were straighter and wider, and the wind was mostly from the rear. Woohoo! This wind insistently encouraged me on my way and I could once more enjoy the winding, rolling back roads of central Mallorca, and I transformed into the dog after the proverbial rabbit. Whilst perhaps common for some, scooting along the flat at between 25 and 30mph is not a treat I've previously experienced.

Sineu Church​

The towns of Sineu and Muro slowed me as I negotiated the narrow streets at more sensible speeds. Still not tempted by cafes I pressed on, for once relishing the speedy progress. Sedate and stately progress is usually the order of the day; I take pleasure in becoming acquainted with my surroundings, but today felt different and I can blame (or thank) the wind.

 

[HobbesOnTour]

I declined the opportunity of a cafe stop in the square

I decided to give the restaurant a miss

Still not tempted by cafes

I'm sorry, I've tried running these phrases through all the online translators that I can find........ and I still don't understand!

Presumably there's a good few other folks with bikes in the hotel (and other hotels?)?
Any specific geographical origin? Friendly & chatty or too cool for school?

Are the trains especially set up to take bikes?

And the biggy..... what's the difference between having a "hub" and moving on from place to place. This is your second "hub & spoke" (that you've written about here) so you must have some ideas, no?

Sorry!