Oxtail Sponge Cake

"So what do we reckon for October, Scotland or Mallorca ?". And so we turned south.

The prospect of some autumnal sunshine was more appealing so after a short hop on Easyjet, during which Pete's legs were voted as "most effective" we landed in a sunny Palma where we were greeted by a car and whisked off through the mountain tunnels to Soller, our base for a long weekend. As the hotel didn't have one, our first priority was to find a friendly bar for that all important last minute training. Luckily we found a craft beer bar (Sullerica Bar), 3 metres from the hotel's entrance and this became our home from home, base camp and HQ for the trip. A fine range of interesting beers on tap ranging from sensible to down right lethal. First round of beer and tapas before we decided to go and fuel for the following day’s exertions - we made it as far as the restaurant next to the hotel - and then back to the bar. 

The following morning dawned bright and clear and we were all on fine form - except for Tav who had apparently had too much ‘tapas’ and had given him a headache. 

After a traditional breakfast of coffee and cake (with tomato puree) we headed off. Today was going to be the bigger of our two walks - but still looked eminently do-able for men of our experience; a mere 20km. We couldn’t really work out why the guidebook suggested 8-10 hours for the walk. We soon found out. Heading out of Soller we walked up steep streets until we started following a path up through the terracing and then eventually we were walking through woodland. The sun had come up and we were grateful to be in the shade of the mountain and the trees given the somewhat uphill nature the walk. 

The profile gave us a clue why we were working so hard and going so slowly. No need to worry, we thought, once we make the ridge it will be a stroll along the top and a nice easy descent. It proved a long way up but we soon broke clear of the trees and could see the radar installation at the top. 

 Apart from the hard work, the walk up was notable for two things. Firstly the route was marked in places with red dots (as the paths were largely non existent) so it all sounded like we had a case of navigational tourettes as the phrase ‘red dot’ would suddenly be blurted out as they appear on trees, rocks and slow moving animals. Secondly, Dave E lost one of his contact lenses so spent the rest of the day walking in a slight curve, squinting and generally tripping over things. As we climbed through the fence on the top, some light cloud appeared just to make it all a little bit mysterious but there were still plenty of views (and lunch) to be had. If you look closely, you can see Dave squinting.  

Now for the easy stroll. The well worn path on the top soon disappeared and then we spent the next few hours either scrambling up and down rocks or attempting to walk through this long grass that hid both rocks and potholes. It turned out to be slow going as we stumbled tripped and generally disappeared from view every few minutes as we lost our footing. The guidebook was suitably vague about where to go other than along the ridge but as one side or the other was alternatively precipitous we crossed over the top numerous times in an attempt to avoid death. Part way along we met another group of people who were doing the walk in the other direction who seemed suitably depressed when we told them how long we had already been walking. 

 When the clouds scuttled away, the views down to the sea were magnificent and the whole mountain range was an amazing sight - though hard going. Eventually we dropped off the ridge to join the national route GR221 which led us back down the amazing Torrent de Biniaraix, a steep sided chasm with a river flowing through it (a sedate one at this time of year, but by the evidence along the floor must be fairly spectacular when in full flood).

Now I can understand the need to prevent erosion on a path like this but I’m not sure I'd have voted for cobbles all the way downhill. After spending many hours falling down holes and off rocks, the cobbles proved somewhat painful to walk down for the next few hours. At various points in the steeply descending (roadless) valley we’d come across little houses and wonder how people got their stuff up and down the valley. We came across both of the options.

Firstly, own a donkey. I was alerted to the presence of the donkey by Tav hurling himself into a bush that had done nothing to deserve it as it shot past carrying a lot of kitchen rolls. It obviously knew where it was going (not that there were many navigational choices in this valley) as a few minutes later two locals strolled up after it, not worrying in the least where all their rolls of Bounty had gone. Secondly, own a caterpillar tracked wheel barrow which was incredibly slow, needed constant steering, was noisy and stank. Even Tav concluded a donkey was a better idea.

We eventually reached the small village of Biniaraix where after a quick drink we then plugged on along a village road back to Soller. All in all just under 20km and 1200 m of climbing had taken us 8 and a half hours, which we think makes it our second longest walk on a Tavs Tour. It was a stunning walk but quite hard going.  A few tired, happy, hungry walking wounded by the end. 

That evening we had a bit of an explore followed by more beer and tapas but none of this potato chunks with aoili rubbish (though we had some). We lucked out and picked a restaurant known for its gourmet tapas and dined like kings. Not only that but they stocked the craft beer from our favourite bar - it was meant to be.

Peter uncovered the automatic shopping centre (4 vending machines) which sold such delicacies as a fully vended hamburger (didn’t sample), a range of sex toys (also didn’t sample) and coffee (did sample - atrocious).

After the exertions of the previous day, the next day was always going to be a gentle stroll. If the Friday was a full-on adventure, Saturday was a gentle perambulation interrupted by food and drink. We decided to follow a much shorter loop through a number of local villages.

We’d stopped for lunch after about 4km and after a brief discussion about how far we were going to walk ordered a round of beers. That naturally put a cap on the afternoon. We had a long and lazy lunch sitting in the sun in a village square, served by a waitress from the NE of England - all very pleasant. All looking very jolly as you can see: 

The afternoon consisted of a very enjoyable walk on wooded paths and tracks which eventually led us back to Soller just in time for a beer. Dave kept both his lenses in all day so got a much more balanced view of the countryside.

A very sedate 10km in 3 hours walking time (and about the same in sitting down time). More tapas were called for and yet again we lucked out finding (another) restaurant famed for it’s food. Some of the English translations proved a little problematic but we dined on such delicacies as oxtail sponge cake, old cow tataki and goatling brine. There was even edible soil. Simply amazing.

And a waitress from the south of England this time. Heading back to the UK we reflected that it was a great place to go for a walk in October as the sun shone, the locals were lovely, the beer was nice and the scenery was stunning - I recommend it.