few
minutes before breakfast at nine. I noticed a couple had arrived on bikes after
me. The same waiter served me lots of food and two cups of coffee to get me
started. Lest I give a false impression: the room had a bath with hot water and
was brand new from head to toe. With only two narrow beds, minimal wood
furniture and no decorations it had a wonderful Spartan feel. The food was
great; so this is not really roughing it but, you can pretend.
I
bundled up and started down the hill. I went only a kilometer or so before
stopping at the Sant Honorat monastery. The
fog turned out to be clouds and I could already see countryside from this spot.
Another kilometer and I stopped at the Santuari de Gracia, the third hermitage
on Puig Randa. It sits dramatically on a ledge cut into the cliff and directly
under Sant Honrat. When I pedaled up a man was opening the gate and I asked him
if I could
go down to Lluc Major using the left hand road leaving the hermitage. He firmly
said no and, as I asked, I noticed the do not enter symbol on a sign so I
didn’t push the issue. It had looked on my map like this was an alternative
way to exit Puig Randa and I always prefer not to back track. Later, as I left I
noticed that the sign also said excepto
autorizado y bicicletas. So I weighed the sign against the man and chose the
former. It was a delightful road apparently almost unused. It’s switchbacks
were much tighter than those on the main road which is really saying something.
Soon I rolled out into the countryside and to the town of Lluc Major.
This was
a pretty town so I took a few pictures and bought some apples at an inviting
little shop. They had a map in the main plaza
that allowed me to find my way to the back road indicated on the cicloturismo
map I had picked up in Santa Ponca. I crossed a major highway and looked back
from the bridge for a nice look at Lluc Major and Puig Randa, in the clouds. Once
on the bike route I found a cicloturismo
kiosk with a map and followed the 
familiar
wooden bicycle signs all the way to
I passed through Arenal and by dozens of resort areas packed with hotels, restaurants and the like. It was warm enough now for the outdoor tables to be full and lots of walkers and bikers out giving the afternoon a festive feeling.
I
checked into my room at the Hostal Terminus in the heart of 
quickly at that rate. At lunch I chatted with a woman from
Roma
Pizza. The beach area east of
So, I
ignored the clouds and rode in the country after my pizza and saw lots of windmills.
I had seen them when I landed in the plane and wanted to see them up close.
Sadly they aren’t used anymore. It was quite windy and, I was really
struggling into the wind as I passed them and they were just sitting there.
There are probably hundreds of
them. When I left Port D’Alcudia I passed an electric producing plant with
huge piles of coal from who knows where. How sad that those pretty windmills
can’t compete.
After my
ride in the country I was dying of thirst
so I went “home” and drank a few bottles of water from the tap. Then, since
it still wasn’t raining, I went out west of town. After riding up a long hill
from the harbor, I saw some woods behind a tall rock wall. There people on
mountain bikes in there and, then I saw a hole in the wall. So I carried my bike
over the rubble and pedaled up the trail. Two guys were taking pictures of one
another going over a jump. I declined to take part but did talk them. They were
from
The
Castle has survived in remarkable good condition but its real claim to fame is
the grand view. A Japanese
couple cheerfully took my picture overlooking the harbor and city of
I may
have found the perfect 50-mile bike trip. I left the Hostal Terminus and
followed the narrow gauge rails of the Soller train. This beautiful antique also
known locally as the tourist train takes passengers (but not bikes) into the 
mountains.
After a while our paths diverged, my road went over the freeway and continued
north. It was a bit congested but, I never felt really uncomfortable. In a mile
or two it became a quiet back road with a slight incline that increased as I
went. The sun came out on a beautiful morning. After 8 miles I joined a regular
two-lane highway for the last mile into the
Right outside of town I saw a row of cars parked mostly on the road so that the narrow two-lane road now was really narrow. I passed a sign telling about 5.4 km road to the top of the pass and its 5.9% average grade. Another sign used pictures to tell cyclists in groups to ride single file.
The road
ventured into a narrow valley with
steep sides covered with trees and wound back and forth in the
familiar switchbacks. The cold morning air felt good as I worked up a real sweat
hauling all my gear on the long climb. I saw not a car along the way and heard
some sheep bells and nothing else. I took a picture of a gorgeous house set
alone in a high spot of the pass with a sheer wall of rock 
behind
it. I got to the top where I sign announced I was at Coll d’Honor.
Naturally
the next thing was to go down the other side.
The beauty of the road forced me to go slowly and enjoy the unmarred natural
beauty. Then through an opening in the trees I saw a picture-perfect green valley
in wonderful 
isolation,
surrounded by hills and mountains. I rode across the valley enjoying the sound
of the sheep and went over a small hill, around a corner and into the tiny town
of
The road then wound smoothly and elegantly through the countryside basically going around the mountain with the old castle ruins I had climbed from Alaro on day three. I had seen this road from the castle and regretted that I wouldn’t have a chance to ride it. The decision to include this scenic detour on my ride to Pollenca was not one I made lightly. I worried some about carrying all my gear over the hill but my previous outings must have given me some climbing legs because it felt great.
The last
25 miles to Pollenca involved some of the same road I had enjoyed so much a week
ago. However, I followed the bicycle tour signs on back roads
through Mancor de la Vall and Caimari instead of Binimar and Selva.
It was marginally more scenic and slightly more effort. In Mancor de la Vall
needed water and when I saw a family filling bottles at a fountain
I got in line and filled mine.
I found
my way to the Hostal Paris, at 20 euros a night, quite a bargain. That included
the same odd set-up of shower and sink in my room but no toilet that I had the
last two nights in
Kept up
to 4 a.m. by drinkers celebrating Christmas while the hotel owner was on Holiday
in 
across
the cliff face that is visible from all over Port de Pollenca. After 2-3 miles
of relentless climbing I got to a wonderful viewing area with impressive views
of the town behind me and the tortuous
landscape of the peninsular in front. Books say it is only a 25-mile ride but
will seem like more and, I’ll agree. The first thing that happened as I
continued out the peninsular is that the road dropped directly back to sea
level. So I had that big climb to look forward to. Then the road started
climbing again as I pedaled through a thick forest of conifers in marked
contrast to the stark rock faces up above.
The road went up and down in a gorgeous tour of the unspoiled land with steep mountains, sheer cliffs and isolated coves. At one point the road approached a sheer drop off and a tunnel appeared. I was glad to have good flashing lights as I heard a car approach from behind. Traffic was light on the way out and moderate on the way back. Despite the narrow winding road it felt safe to ride because the cars travel slowly due to the laws of physics. As I worked to climb yet another series of curves I wondered if I would have enough water. I had thoughts of a 25-mile ride but this involved more exertion than normal and there would be no stores or restaurants. I even considered cutting it short but the lure of the road was too strong.
Finally
I looked down at the stark promontory approached by winding roads and holding a
bleached lighthouse. I coasted down to beginning of the last climb up to the
lighthouse. Paths led down sheer cliffs to the sea far below. I
would have to skip those as I had my challenge just to make it back for lunch. I
had an apple and bread and got a fellow to take my picture
over looking one of the coves. The
ride back when fine as I conserved my water until the start of the big climb and
ground it out without incidence. There’s a natural high that comes with
conquering something challenging and I felt great as I coasted down the long
scar back into town.
After lunch and a rest I pedaled over to Pollenca to see the Roman bridge: not much to look at but very old. Up the hill from it I climbed to Puig de Calvari, a hill cherished by the locals for its stations of the cross along the road and a huge long stairway that runs from the city to the little chapel that holds a thirteenth century icon. I enjoyed the outstanding view of Pollenca, Port de Pollenca, the mountains on the Alcudia peninsular and the beginning of Formentor with its highly visible road running across the ridge. I finished the day out riding along the bay watching the sun set over a scene one dreams about.
The Hostal Paris made up for no heat and no sleep with a free breakfast that included cereal and fruit: the first of the trip. I pedaled east along the expanse of Pollenca Bay and the Alcudia bay on a lovely morning. Miles and miles of just riding along the beach was a great way to start my penultimate day. Eventually I turned inland and, after a little while, found the S'Albufera Natural Area, 2,000 acres of protected marsh.
Only pedestrians and bicyclists can enter. I pedaled along roads
overgrown with rushes 20 feet tall seeing birds too many to count. Most I could
not identify but recognized the purple gallinule, a large bird with bright
purple feathers and pink legs. It looks a lot like a moorhen which is common on
my bike rides in the southern U. S. At the visitor
center, I got a map and it
showed a route around the very extreme of the preserve so, of course, I was
drawn to it. I noticed however, some puddles in the trail and after the first
few I told myself I should turn back before I got my feet wet. I couldn't resist
and pushed on trying to go through them slowly so as not to splash but not so
slowly as to stall and have to put my foot down. Well then I hit a deep spot and
got both feet wet to the ankles.
At one point, on the edge of the preserve, I rode through a gate. I liked it
because it exemplified the Mallorcan style of gate which I've seen many times on
my rides. In addition, it marked the first time I had even seen a cattle guard 
for
a bike. A cattle guard to those who may be unfamiliar is a series of steel pipes
that a vehicle can pass over but a cow or horse cannot. Thus, with a cattle
guard you don't have to open and close a gate. Here I stopped to take off a
layer of clothing and enjoy the view. A white horse came over to say hello so I
decided to take my apple break and share. She liked that and clearly wanted
more. As I pedaled along, I obligingly stopped at every view point, and
observation deck. I loved the solitude of the narrow trails claustrophobic with
the rushes. Leaving the park I passed through the little town of Sa Pobla and
followed a secondary road through a few turns and made my way to Inca for lunch.
Ordinary, describes Mallorca's third largest city and the little Cafeteria where
I stopped to eat offered me anything I wante
d
to eat as long as it was a bocadillo. I have this theory that ordinary
Mallorcan's don't eat out they just go there for coffee or drinks and then eat
at home. Leaving Inca I found the Cicloturismo route with some difficulty. I am
glad that I persisted as the route was really a delight. Typical of the country
roads it was about half the width of our two-lane roads. That means that cars
have to slow down because if they encounter another car it will be a tight
squeeze. Of course, given those limitations they take some highway and leave the
lane to us. I passed the usual groves and fields of crops as well as acres upon
acres of grape vines. In the distance to the east I could see Puig Randa where I
slept in the monastery and to the west I could see the castle ruins above Alaro
of my first hike. At Santa Maria the bike route gave out and I had to ride on an
ordinary road. It wasn't so bad and the tail wind made me a faster rider. I
checked into the Terminus where they treated me like a regular. After a 55-mile
ride I might have had a nap but had to meet a friend at Cappuccino. We talked
for hours beneath the cathedral in a really delightful spot I recommend to all
who travel here. I felt full of gratitude that I had such a pretty day and was
able to spend it all outside on my bike wet feet and all.
I'm writing this in another Cappuccino coffee shop, this one near Plaza
Espana because they have free wi-fi to go with the great atmosphere. I had given
thought to a hard ride today but discarded that plan. I went for a 3-mile run to
start the day. I've seen lots of runners out and wanted to join them. I checked
out of the Hostal Terminus and into Hostal Brondo
for my last night. For 40 euros I got a very nice room with a full bath. I
verified that my folding-mountain bike box still waited in their crowded
basement and went for breakfast. I ate at a great little
outdoor place in the marina on Gabriel Roca,
just west of Palma. Then I pedaled east all the way down the coast.
Today I never spent more than a few minutes from the gorgeous coastline. Ten miles from Palma the bike lane ran out but I found pretty roads in neighborhoods of exclusive homes. I enjoyed going down dead end streets and finding that they weren't, for a mountain bike. Little foot paths led to secluded beaches open to the public but not advertised. I also found some mountain bike trails through a big wooded area. Lastly there was a cool, very rough road on an undeveloped peninsular. From there I enjoyed a grand view of the enormous expanse of the Bay of Palma with the mountains across the entire horizon.
I pedaled back for an outdoor lunch and then went to work to pack up my
folding mountain bike. Even with my 
needing
to remove the luggage rack, and working slowly it took only 15 minutes. It's
nice to know that when I look for a taxi in the morning it won't have to be
huge. These pictures show my bike: now you see
it and now you don't. Last year,
in Costa Rica, I took a conventional mountain bike in a box from the bike shop.
It took a full hour of disassembly and was then a box twice as large as this
one. The folding bike is new to me and I'm impressed at how well it worked. With
my 57-year-old knees I had to shift constantly and it worked flawlessly. I also
gave the brakes a workout and they too were fine. In the interest of a full
report, I had one pedal that made an annoying clicking sound (a bad bearing I
suppose) the last three days. It didn't affect performance or fun. So on a
folding mountain bike you can see a lot of Mallorca in two weeks. I rode 466
miles on roads that could spoil a person for biking. This is the most bike
friendly place I've ever ridden.
