Final days on Mallorca
Tattooing, bushwhacking, climbing, kayaking
I'm headed to Portugal today. The past week or so has been especially adventure packed– Here’s a bit of what I’ve been up to!
Tuesday consisted of an underwater cave and a dinner party.
My friend Tristan and I went sea kayaking first thing in the morning. We worked on our synchrony and fought headwinds that proved entirely worth it; choppy water brought thrilling waves to paddle over.
Miles of paddling down the coastline brought us to an underwater cave. What looked like any other rock in the sea was actually completely hollow, discovered only by swimming under and into its dark abyss for a solid five to seven seconds.
Holding your breath for seven seconds is, of course, not very difficult. The challenge lies in swimming through a tunnel with the knowledge that within those seven seconds, you cannot come up, considering the rock above your head.
I filled my lungs with air and followed Tristan into the dark. I emerged, albeit coughing and shaking, into a stunning cave. Surrounded by drooping rocks formed by centuries of dripping water, it was utterly quiet aside from my breath and the lapping sea.
I submerged again with my goggles to see the tunnel we entered from. The view from underwater depicts a massive hole to the other side. An absolutely magnificent bright blue, it is unbelievably vibrant in contrast to the dark cave around me. Within it the sea floor sparkles, sun rays skewer the surface, fish glide by and algae sways in the current.
The swim back out was easy– entering that beaconing hole of blue light.
Then I ate a sandwich, glad to be alive.
Later that evening we attended a dinner party with Tristan’s Australian family friends, who spend half the year here in Deià and the other in Perth. We hiked up to their home, which was gushing with warm light and lush with vines on the terrace. We reveled in wine and tapas before dinner, captivated by a view of sea, sailboats and stars.
They roasted a suckling pig paired with salads, pastas and stuffings, and a fig pastry for dessert. Savoring every bite, we feasted like kings. How lovely it is to be thrusted into these situations.
I felt like Jack Dawson in Titanic, at a luxurious dinner exclaiming “just last night I was sleeping under a bridge, and now I’m having champagne with you fine people.” Or Liz Gilbert in Eat Pray Love, at Thanksgiving in Italy– “I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”
Valldemossa rocks
One morning, I decided to head to Valldemossa for Coca de Patata and coffee. Coca de Patata is a traditional Mallorquin pastry, originating in the village of Valldemossa (just south of Deià). A soft, fluffy potato bun dusted with powdered sugar, Coca de Patatas are perfect paired with coffee, horchata or hot chocolate.
I entered Ca’n Molinas, a one-hundred-year-old bakery known for the original Coca recipe. I sat on the bakery’s bustling garden patio and enjoyed my coffee and pastry, taking millions of mental photos.
Photos of the morning sun illuminating vines that swirl around outside walls. Photos of ladies eating pastries, chatting with powdered sugar on their mouths. The clinking of glasses and plates and mugs. Strangers making friends.
I then walked beyond the village and down the main road, to a spot on the mountain where I’ve been told people typically climb. I’d been dying to touch some rock; Mallorca is known as a stellar climbing destination due to its top tier limestone.
I arrived at the pin, though not an easy feat. It was much farther than anticipated; I essentially trudged through a ditch on the side of the highway, trespassing a few times to avoid scary road bends of racing cars. Once there, I hiked around and soon made friends with a couple of guys that were top-roping.
Carlos and Rafah, two friends of 15 years, were skilled climbers and fascinating to watch.
“Want to try?” Carlos asked me. “Oh my gosh, well sure!” I responded in pseudo-surprise. My climbing shoes were already in my bag; I had to be prepared in the event of an opportunity. Carlos had me look over the guidebook, Rafah tossed me a harness and I was on the wall in no time.
I spent some hours climbing with them. The routes they’d set were pretty advanced, and, given that I hadn’t climbed in two months, the forearm pump was real. Nonetheless, the guys were extremely encouraging the excursion scratched a looming itch.
Tatted
As I mentioned in my Small Wins Abroad blog post, I got to talking with a tattoo artist named Stephen on the bus earlier in my stay. He urged me to come into his studio for a free tat. I agreed, of course. So this week I went into Palma (the city on Mallorca) with two ideas: an outline of the village of Deià, and a small, simple lemon. He insisted on doing both. Ideal mementos!
Hyperlink to the small wins post**
While in the studio, I met Stephen’s 10-year-old son and co-workers. After getting poked, I grabbed a Pokè bowl from a restaurant nearby– I ate the exact same meal last time I was in Palma, and haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.
Lost in the woods
On Saturday, Tristan and I hiked through the oak forest and up the mountain to see the sunset from on high. We veered from the trail, scrambled through steep gravel and crossed falling rocks to find a supreme viewpoint. Naturally, it became dark after the sunset. We quickly realized we had veered a little too far and didn’t have the slightest idea where we were.
As we began making our way back, we became distracted and decided to make a fire. Collecting dry wood and twigs, we assembled our materials into a teepee shape. On our third try, the fire was roaring. After enjoying its warmth for a solid hour, we extinguished it and went back to being lost.
The entirety of the following hour consisted of bushwhacking by the light of the moon. We were slingshotted by trees, scratched by twigs and assaulted by pokey vines. I really even whipped out my compass at one point. There’s nothing like being humbled by nature. By the grace of God, we emerged onto a proper trail around midnight.
A trek to Port De Soller
On Sunday, I hiked from Deià to Sóller, the next town over. The route has a few options, and I chose the longer one in order to be alongside the coast for the entirety of the trek. Eight miles of steep topography meant plenty of time to feel the quad burn while enjoying the sound and sight of the crashing sea.
Lemon cerveza and coconut water sustained me throughout the journey. I packed myself a lunch of quinoa and fresh vegetables with goat cheese wrapped in Jamón Serrano, which I enjoyed cliffside.
In typical Gwen fashion, the trail I chose was the least marked. Lost in the woods for the second time in 12 hours, I trodden on, trusting I was headed in the right general direction. I’ve never been more encouraged by the occasional cairn.
The trail spit me out next to the lighthouse of Port de Sóller at a magic hour. The sun remained only on the mountains, illuminating them gold while puffy pink clouds hung low over their peaks.
As I descended from the lighthouse and into the port, a Mallorquín band was performing seaside. The whole town glowed with the light of the sinking sun; the air was pink. Everywhere I looked, there was love.
Barefoot children played. Families clapped along to the music. Mothers danced and clutched their babies. Birds encircled the sand. Couples walked with arms intertwined. Three friends sat eating pastries, six legs dangled over the pier.
It was the kind of beauty that makes your muscles relax and your eyes tear up. I rewarded myself for my hike with some pineapple basil gelato before catching the bus back home to take a post-adventure shower and eat mounds of pasta.
My workaway host, Joanna, has been off on a cruise for the last nine days of my stay here. So I’ve been in my very own little house in Mallorca! What a trip.
Now off to Portugal!
With love from an easyJet airplane,
Gwen
Your writing has me squealing
My sister is the absolute coolest woman ever