I set out on a trail from the town of Sóller,
and saw the landscape emerging from the
pre-dawn darkness. A faraway lighthouse
silhouetted against a moonlit sea. Rooftops
of a sleeping town below. And, eventually,
morning sunshine, warming the cliffs above.
By breakfast time, I was among the range’s
summits. On one side, the land dropped to
the sea; the silvery tides of the Mediterranean
where Odysseus and Aeneas sailed. On the
other, the plain of Mallorca, the eastern hills
and beyond them, the Love Island villa.
In 36 hours, I had done it – transferred from
my sofa to the roof of the Mediterranean,
borne by my own two feet (at least partly).
And so I passed a few happy days
wandering in the mountains. Walking alone,
I’ve discovered, nurtures wild eccentricity.
It is, of course, the freedom to set your own
agenda, to choose your own route. But also
to eat your packed breakfast at 10.33 and your
packed lunch at 10.42, if you so wish. To hold
long conversations with yourself. On lonely
mountain passes I practised my phrasebook
Spanish on the goats. ¿Tienes una habitación
para una noche? (Do you have a room for one
night?) repeated and repeated until it acquired
the gravel of Javier Bardem and the wit of
Cervantes. And soon the mountains echoed
back: ¿Tienes una habitación para una noche?
And solo walking sets your imagination
free from its moorings – until every stride
feels momentous, every day heroic. At the
highest point on the trail, I made a detour to
an old snow trap – a strange structure, which
Mallorcans in centuries past would use to
store packed snow in winter, and export it
down the mountain as ice during sweltering
summers. I lay down in the hollow from
which the ice for a million sorbets had been
scooped, and fell asleep. I woke with the
stone walls rising around me like my own
personal castle: the ramparts framing my
own private quadrant of stars.
After a few days walking on the trails,
I descended into the town of Port de Pollença
and found a hotel. I started: ‘Tienes una
habitación...’ before mumbling the rest in
French, handing over €45 and avoiding eye
contact. The magic of the mountains had
worn off. Up there I was a hero, down here
I was just a guy with a pencil case full of
cheese. Lying on the hotel bed, I traced
my route on a map – a meandering line
zigzagging through the range. The U-turns
spoke of last-minute planning. The detours
recalled naps under cloudless skies.
I hopedBigAlwouldbeproud.
MAKE IT HAPPEN
GETTING THERE
Palma de Mallorca Airport is served by many UK
hubs – including Manchester, Bristol, Liverpool and
London Stansted with easyJet, and London Heathrow
with British Airways (from £80; easyjet.com). The town
of Sóller is the trailhead for the most popular mountain
walks. It’s easily reached from Palma on the wondrous
and historic Ferrocarril de Sóller railway (£16
one-way; trendesoller.com).THE WALK
Mallorca’s most famous hiking route is the Ruta de
Pedra en Sec – also known as the GR-221 – which
runs the length of the Serra de Tramuntana from Port
d ’A n d r a t x in the west to Port de Pollença in the north,
via Sóller. Stretching just over 100 miles, the route is
fairly easy to follow, with many signposts – particularly
on the northern stretches – and many potential detours
and variations. Most hikers cover it in five to eight days.
Macs Adventure is among companies offering a
seven-night self-guided itinerary, including transfers and
accommodation (from £975; macsadventure.com).WHERE TO STAY
Finca Ca’s Sant is a superb place to rest trail-weary
feet in Sóller, set in shady orange groves with views up
to green mountains (from £165: cas-sant.com). In Port
de Pollença, the Hotel Sis Pins has old-world charm,
and an enviable location on the town’s handsome
seafront promenade (from £115; hotelsispins.com).FURTHER INFORMATION
Cicerone’s excellent Trekking in Mallorca
has details of the route and official hostels
(£12). The GR-221 website has basic info
(gr221.info). For more on the island, see
Lonely Planet’s Mallorca (£13.9 9).‘In 36 hours,
I had done it
- transferred
from my sofa to
the roof of the
Mediterranean’
oliver smith is a contributing
writer to Lonely Planet magazine.
In ten years of trips he hasn’t
mastered successful packing.