A tram ride to Sóller

The anchorage in Sóller

The north-west coast of Mallorca is dramatic, but rather an unforgiving one. Steep cliffs drop straight into the sea, occasional valleys covered in pine forests running between them; in fierce weather there's almost nowhere for a yacht to hide. Port de Sóller, about halfway along the north-western coast, is the only port of refuge for thirty miles in either direction, and is consequently very popular. The fact that it's also an extremely pretty, and quite classy, tourist destination only adds to its appeal.

The north-west coastline

Having hung out in Santa Ponsa long enough, we set out early on Tuesday morning for this much-vaunted horseshoe anchorage - although not exactly concerned about any bad weather. There was no wind whatsoever, which has the upside of completely flat, glassy seas, and the downside of needing to motor and the lack of any breeze to provide relief from the heat. It was a surprisingly pleasant trip, though, in fairness; admittedly, I slept about a third of the way, but the landscape we passed was stunning and with Mediterranean winds we're very used to the sound of the motor.

We turned into the cala early afternoon, hoping we'd manage to find somewhere to anchor, given the reports of getting crowded in high summer. It was, indeed, very busy, and we were forced to anchor further out than we'd really prefer - but as the afternoon wore on perhaps fifteen more boats turned up and managed to slot themselves in, so perhaps we'd given up too soon. Bizarrely, that night someone started letting off flares, causing us to rush outside to establish if someone was in trouble. They seemed to be coming from the marina, though, and we couldn't imagine any situation in which a boat tied up to a dock could need to set off flares to get help; they must just have seen them as conveniently available fireworks, which is of course spectacularly illegal. We watched the last of them float downwards almost directly above us - I was quite ready to jump out of the way to prevent it landing on my head and setting my hair alight. It dropped into the water a few feet from our boat, but next morning we found ash all over our deck.

The view from the tram

Irresponsible flare-setting aside, it's a lovely place. Most of the restaurants are full of greenery and candles, and while wandering around we noticed a trio of musicians (who I want to call troubadours, but don't quite fit the technical definition) in costume moving between restaurants playing to the diners, and without a collection tin or hat in sight.

Me, and a giant open gap on a moving vehicle

This was only the port, though; the town of Sóller lies further inland, completely hidden from sight behind the forested hills. An old-fashioned, and beautifully maintained, tram runs between the town and the port and for the extortionate-seeming sum of €5.50 per person we got a ride into town. It was absolutely worth it. The tram clatters along fairly slowly, but much of it is open and it takes a scenic route through magnificent countryside. It was early in the day so the tram wasn't too busy, but we chose to stand at the back of the carriage - where you could, incidentally, simply hop off while moving, as there are no safety barriers whatsoever - to get the best of the views and breeze.

It's not far to Sóller, but the slow-moving tram takes around half an hour, winding its way through the hills. Suddenly, however, we emerged from the countryside straight into the town, somehow having skipped the outskirts entirely. About twenty seconds after we had hopped out of the carriage we were in love. The town is utterly delightful, and knows it. It's clearly cultivated a charming, classy image, mixing the quaint with the fashionable. For a small town, it has a surprising number of art galleries.

The shop's garden area

We stopped in one of the restuarants surrounding the town square for breakfast, relishing our shady spot under the trees, before heading down the main shopping street. We passed a boutique set up in a courtyard, with lit chandeliers dangling from the high, arched ceiling and clothes hanging from a tree at the back. Further on, on a whim, I turned into a shop that seemed to sell shells, and realised that the stairs led back to a garden that was still part of the shop. It was essntially an upmarket souvenir shop, with some home furnishing and clothing thrown in, not the kind of place we'd usually spend money in, but I was so taken with the effort they'd gone to - they'd used a tree as a hat stand! - that I felt they rather deserved my custom. We went back later in the day and I bought myself a hand-painted fan, which I'll at least be able to get some use out of in the summer weather.

The town square

This was typical of the town - everywhere you stumble across gardens, trees, even orchards. While trying to locate the supermarket, we came across a stone arched walkway through lush climbing flowers. We couldn't figure out how to get there, but it reinforced our impression that this was one of the nicest towns we'd seen in our travels. Even the bank (Santander) building was ridiculously attractive; it had an ornate balcony straight from a medieval castle.

We opted to return to the boat around lunchtime, and shared the tram back with an enormous number of people off for a day at the seaside, meaning that the trip back was rather less comfortable. In the afternoon we tried to visit another cala further along the coast, but were forced to go back to Port de Sóller again as the anchorage was just too full. We did see dolphins, which always brightens the spirits, but our trip to the town in the morning was definitely the highlight of the day.

The Yachting Capital of the World

The cathedral dominates the skyline from the waterfront

Palma, probably the only real city in the Balearics, is known as the yachting capital of the world. So are quite a few other places, in fairness, which suggests that there's some hyperbole going on, but the rows upon rows of shiny white yachts that have braved the extortionate summer prices for a marina spot attest to its popularity among sailors. 

So, naturally, we got the bus. Apart from anything else, half an hour in an air-conditioned vehicle is a tempting prospect in the heat of a Mallorcan summer. As ever, the chief source of our excitement about seeing a new city, one with a huge variety of tourists attractions, was several well-stocked supermarkets. Here we could find all those ingredients we've been forced to go without! 

Or not. We didn't try very hard, admittedly, not bothering to go looking for a large Carrefour, but the Supermercado in El Corte Ingles (an enormous Mecca of a department store) held almost nothing we haven't found elsewhere since we've been away. 

Never mind. Palma is still a beautiful city, and we were delighted by the abundance of green space and trees everywhere. Having walked past the grandiose cathedral, put off from going inside by the size of the queue, we turned down a tiny side-street at random and came to an open set of gates with a sign telling us that whatever was inside was open, but failing to mention what that might be. We wandered in, and found that it was a small walled garden, one half of which appeared to be growing chilli peppers while the other was ornamental and gorgeous. A tree with impossibly bright pink flowers hung over a pond full of waterlilies and fallen pink blossoms; further along were rows of huge spherical blue flowers and at the end stood a stone basin with drinking water. We splashed ourselves with water in a vain attempt to cool down a little and wandered off again.

The tourist industry evidently plays up this almost quaint charm; along every other attractive street are horse-drawn carriages in the dappled shade, and as you explore the old town you're bound to hear clopping hooves behind you or a more distant jingle as the carriages take their occupants on sedate tours. 

Horse-drawn carriages all in a row

Having taken care of our shopping requirements, we returned to the cathedral to find the queue much diminished and paid €7 each to visit it. A lot of the detail seemed a little too elaborate and too dependent on gold to be entirely to my taste, but when taken as a whole it was rather lovely, the lighting and stained glass windows combining to create a warm glow. One small, bizarre chapel designed by Gaudi, though, was quite charming in its oddness. The windows look as though they've been damaged by fire, while both walls are covered in a seascape, complete with curling waves near the roof. It's completely out of character with the rest of the cathedral, and has a rather sinister feel to it, but I liked it for precisely that reason.

As the afternoon wore on, we bought ice creams (from a shop claiming to sell the best gelato in the world, which seemed unlikely outside Italy) and retired to a long, pedestrianised avenue lined with benches to consume them. We had a perfect view of the cathedral (the photo below was taken from our bench) and a gentle breeze, which somehow managed to occasionally scatter us with water droplets from a fountain a hundred yards away.

Palma's cathedral peeks out from behind the greenery of a small park

We hadn't exactly taken advantage of being in the yachting capital of the world, but despite the number and scale of the marinas in the harbour, it didn't strike us as being particularly impressive. On the other hand, if we do find ourselves in need of obscure bits for the boat, we may well become converts to Palma's yachting facilities. 

Looking out across the harbour

In general, visiting Palma outside the hottest summer months is probably a much better idea; by the time we left, sitting down again in the air-conditioned bus was about the best thing we could imagine.

A new landmass! And it's only taken us two and a half months.

At last, after a very long time in Ibiza and Formentera, we've moved on to Mallorca. We were getting very comfortable in the now familiar anchorages we'd spent our time in - and of course they were (mostly) lovely - but both the anchorages and towns were becoming far too crowded to be enjoyable. Spending your days watching out for other boats about to hit you as they drop anchor is about as much fun as it sounds.

On the other hand, the weather has hardly favoured a crossing from Ibiza to Mallorca. There have been almost constant easterlies for weeks now, and ideally we'd need a westerly wind to sail over. Well, there was no such thing appearing on the forecast, but a very light southerly was due yesterday. Not perfect, but at least the wind wouldn't be against us.

The wind turned out to be virtually non-existent, which meant having the engine on for ten hours straight, but with a flat sea and surprisingly comfortable temperatures we had a very pleasant crossing. Somehow it felt nothing like the long slog of our crossing from the mainland to Ibiza, despite the constant chug of the engine. Perhaps we're just getting used to having to motor everywhere, thanks to the less-than-helpful winds of the Med.

The nearest sensible anchorage was Santa Ponsa, an extremely touristy holiday resort but with an entirely different atmosphere to, say, San Antonio. Here the holiday-makers are predominantly families, and while it's very built-up and half the signs you see are in English, it's clearly been designed to be as agreeable as possible. Behind the beach is a large park-like area shaded by abundant trees, which are also everywhere within the town, between buildings and along the wide streets. Even better, we noticed a very British restaurant offering Sunday roasts and the opportunity to watch the Wimbledon final, which has settled our plans for tomorrow!

The view from our back deck, towards the beach

We're allowing ourselves around six weeks to see Mallorca, so on Monday we plan to move on again, to another anchorage closer to Palma, that will give us the chance to see the yachting capital of the Med. We've heard there are four Carrefours in Palma, which, embarrassingly, is the chief source of our excitement about going there. Sailing the world, and all we care about are supermarkets.

Looking out towards the sea end of the anchorage