Beach & bike bliss
Mallorca a treat on two wheels
My wife and I have come to refer to it as the Mallorca triathlon.
Rather than the rigorous run-bike-swim event requiring extensive training and incredible athleticism, our version of the sport befits arriving on the sunny Spanish island via Holland America cruise ship.
As the 920-foot Noordam glides into dock at Palma, Mallorca’s capital, my wife and I are finishing up a three-kilometre light jog round and round the ship’s elegant wood-floored promenade deck.
We find daily runs partially justify the copious amounts of gourmet food and fine wine one tends to consume on a 10-day cruise of the Mediterranean.
Showered and breakfasted, we’re down the gangplank and onto a shuttle bus that takes us to the centre of Palma.
But rather than file up to the magnificent cathedral like all the other tourists, we bypass the lines and head straight to Palma on Bike to rent our transportation for the day for 14 euros each.
The bike tech with very little English and a lot of pointing at a map directs us to the nearby bike path that hugs the coastline for 15 kilometres.
With a lot more pointing at the ocean — this time by us — and making swimming motions with our arms we deduct this leisurely bike route will come across numerous beaches.
Thus the easy cycle and swim portions of our island triathlon can be checked off.
Mallorca is part of the Balearic Islands that glitter in the Med off the east coast of Spain and also includes the party island of Ibiza, Minora and Formentera.
It doesn’t take long on the bike path before the tourist traffic thins out and we only hear Spanish accents from passing cyclists.
It’s also when we start to come across the most beautiful beaches.
The stretches of sand run from gloriously long crescents to tiny rocky coves.
The medium-sized Molinar Beach catches our eye.
It’s quiet and beautiful in a residential area with just a few holiday lease places and restaurants.
The texture of the shore is more fine pebble than sand and the beachgoers are a mix of young couples playing paddle ball, families, buff guys and topless women.
In Spain it’s common, acceptable, encouraged (and appreciated) for women to sunbathe and swim sans top.
But we want to work up more of a sweat before taking a dip.
So we continue on a few more kilometres until the path runs out and so do our beach options.
We backtrack to Molinar and decide to delay the final event of our tourist triathlon further by ducking under the umbrellas at Yam Portixol Cafe for latte, bruschetta and cold cava (the yummy Spanish sparkling wine).
We’re happy to simply watch the world go by.
Spaniards wander by with their groceries, a dad and his kids pass on inline skates and there’s a steady stream of cyclists and beachgoers.
We decide to join them and head over to the beach.
Because this is a residential area people can change into their swimsuit at home or in their holiday let and then conveniently show up.
Thus no public change facilities at Molinar.
We do our best under towel shimmy change and wade into the water.
It’s a sweltering summer day, but the Mediterranean is still cool enough to be refreshing.
My wife decides to do the European thing and swims topless.
But she draws the line at actually laying on the beach breasts bared.
So after a decent sun bath we repeat the under-towel change shimmy and return to our bikes and the city.
We’re actually quite proud of ourselves for fashioning a memorable day at a port where we initially had no clue what to do.