Shark Alley: A Walk In The Serra de Tramuntana

Just back from Mallorca. It was lovely. My apartment was perfect and looked just like the pictures (fortunately). It's in Santa Catalina, an area of Palma that has smartened up over the years I've been visiting, and I loved, loved, loved it. It was mere moments from a supermarket, a buzzy covered local market - the Mercat Santa Catalina, a health food shop and both the bus stops I needed. Just typing this has made me want to wail 'Why aren't I there anymore?!"

Currently trying to think if I could run Shark Alley from out there. It may happen one day.

Anyway, I wondered what to write about it in this blog post (as I obviously haven't been doing anything creative this week) and I thought of this walk.

The weather was mixed during my stay, so on a day forecast to be cloudy, I took the bus north to Sóller. This is a special place where I fell in love with the island for the first time, and I lived there for a month in 2006. Although this made me realise that I do actually need to live in a city, Sóller has a magic about it that brings about a strong and complicated emotional reaction every single time. Apparently, this is not uncommon and is something to do with the mountains. More about these in a bit.

Personally, things are very tough at the moment. I suddenly wanted to walk and walk and walk I did, despite not really being dressed for it. God knows what the dedicated German hill-walkers thought of me in my dress, leggings and gold Fit-Flops.

I had lunch in a bar in the tiny hamlet of Biniaraix, just above Sóller, and nabbed the best seat on the terrace with a view of the mountains above the lovely houses. Just to make it even more amazing, as I sat down the sound of someone playing Erik Satie's Gnossienes on the piano came floating out of a nearby window. Stuff like this happens a lot here. I had a secret little cry.

Press 'Play' now and read on.

After lunch, I kept walking and eventually reached a path I'd never been up before. I knew roughly where I was going, but not exactly how the route worked. I felt stupidly nervous - why? - but I knew I could just turn round if I wanted to. I kept going, up and up the steep hairpin bends and every time I looked back, Sóller got smaller and it was all very exhilarating in a way and I was making a new memory, not just backtracking over old ones.

It was so beautiful and peaceful. I was totally alone. All I could hear was the sound of the birds and goat-bells clanging and tinkling nearby. There was even still a slight waft of orange and lemon blossom in the air, although most of it had disappeared by now. The clouds made it a perfect temperature to walk in. I guessed the road would drop down to the left, heading for the village of Fornalutx, but it never did, just kept climbing higher and getting narrower and narrower, so I must confess I did have a tiny panic and turn back. Then fortunately I spotted this small stony track with a helpful sign. Bingo.

Fortunately Fornalutx.

Relaxed now (maybe a little too relaxed - I slipped on a stone and gave myself an enormous bruise on my bum!), I picked my way down the path and simply enjoyed the stunning views.

One of the first things I noticed about this area in the north of the island are the beautiful mountains of the Serra de Tramuntana. They are so . . . shapely. When you drive up them, your ears pop. They lean in and hug the valley. They change colour and form depending on the light. I find them so comforting. Even on this cloudy day they looked good.

Such endorphins on the way down! I rounded off the afternoon by taking the 'scenic route' 210 bus back to Palma. This takes an hour and half (rather than 30 minutes) and goes via the jaw-dropping coast road to Deia, then Valdemossa (where Michael Douglas has a house).