Sauftour 2009" is grabbing his oversized travelling bag from the baggage carousel, while "Fankurve Ost" makes its way through the crowd with a stupid straw hat on its head. I've arrived in Mallorca, which feels like Germany's 17th federal state - the T-shirt prints on the passengers in Palma give it away. Whether with a sangria bucket on the beach or for basic training with a bike organiser - Mallorca has become the melting pot of German society in recent decades, and of course I'm part of it. I like Mallorca. I've been flying there for 14 years, staying in a hotel bunker and cycling kilometre after kilometre with like-minded people. This time everything is going to be different: I want to get to know the Balearic island from a different angle. And alone. Without a "Tempo" or "Kilometre Sharks" group, without an all-inclusive hotel. This time I want to stay in a Mallorcan style, in a finca, a former monastery and a country hotel.
A beer during the tour
As delicious as the food is, my finca life still feels unfamiliar - especially when I push my bike along the pool in the morning. Like-minded people? Not a chance. In front of the finca: no impatiently waiting training group. And no sign of the 80,000 cyclists who visit Mallorca every year. Clicking into the pedals is followed by marvelling at the beauty of the landscape. Stone walls stretch along the narrow road, shimmering golden in the morning light. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the crests of the Mediterranean Sea glistening. On the easy climb to the 509 metre high Puig Sant Salvador, the sun warms my pale skin and muscles. At the summit, a couple of racing cyclists from Manchester are trying to pose in front of the digital camera. I take the self-timer off the job and snap the Englishmen. William and his friends are also on a personalised trip to Mallorca and are staying in a finca near Felanitx. They reinforce their decision with three bottles of beer. "Which organiser can you treat yourself to a few beers during the tour?" William asks me, toasting his colleagues. "Besides, we didn't want to queue at the buffet and spend the evening in front of the TV."
However, if you don't book with the training camp organiser, you have to make do without their "all-round carefree package". For me, this means that things I have come to love are cancelled. Be it the transfer from the airport, a hire bike, power bar sales or even just a floor pump. Even when choosing accommodation, trivial questions arise: How safe will the bike be in the evening? Is there a washing area for bikes? On the other hand, as an individual holidaymaker, you not only follow your own taste - be it in a cosy finca in the countryside or a small hotel in the mountains - but also your own schedule. I decide for myself when I eat, train and take a break.
After the descent from Puig Sant Salvador, the wind from the sea pushes more and more strongly against me, pushing me into the lower handlebars and slowly blowing all the enjoyment out of the tour. Where is the speed group now, or the cappuccino group for that matter, in whose slipstream I can cling? Mallorca alone, without a slipstream - a stupid idea, I think at this moment. "Portocristo" is written in peeling letters on the road sign. Relieved, I get off my bike in this small fishing town, pour a Coke down my throat and let my gaze wander over the bay, which is used almost exclusively by locals. The swarms of tourists are limited to the stalactite caves Coves del Drac and Coves del Hams. There are hardly any new hotel buildings crowding the beach here; racing cyclists live elsewhere. Group rides, keeping a cut, chain right - all things that don't fit here at all.
THE APPEAL OF LONELINESS
The door is closed, no amount of swearing will help. In my new home, the former Ermita de la Victoria monastery, I stand in front of my room door. Without the key. It's inside. The wind that blows across the Alcùdia peninsula and rustles in the trees has thrown it shut. Reception is not manned at this late hour, so I bend the credit card on the door lock. Without success. So I dig the last bits of Spanish out of my brain and phone for help. The boss of the hermitage is on the line. Downstairs, in the desk, in the left-hand drawer, there is a spare key. No, it's not there. Then he has to call Carmen, who is at reception during the day and knows where the keys are. Half an hour later, I'm back in my room. Carmen laughs the next morning. "Yes, the key," she says, "I've seen it before." She has often told the boss to install heavier doors. Otherwise it would happen again and again.
Hermitages have a way of being lonely. The Ermita de la Victoria is no exception. 200 metres above the bay of Alcùdia, it sits enthroned on a mountain ridge like a block carved out of stone, hidden among the trees. Hotels and beaches, the hustle and bustle of the capital Palma - you can hardly be further away from it all on Mallorca. The monks sought contemplation here. Perhaps the windows are as small as loopholes to allow you to look inwards? My room is the size of a shoebox. No television - it's in an open anteroom in the corridor - no wardrobe, no welcome soap on the edge of the washbasin. Nevertheless, I feel at home in the sparseness and look out over the trees that stretch down to the bay of Pollença. Nothing crosses my view: no hotel, no roads, no supermarket.
The next morning, I have breakfast with a teacher couple from Germany. They talk about their hikes on the island, their children and their work. Discussions about basic endurance training are miles away. Just like the usual question at training camps: So? How many kilometres do you want to do today? Mallorca without training pressure.
Shortly afterwards, I set off into the mountainous north-west. The tailwind blows me up the gentle climb, making my legs whirl around the bottom bracket. Coll de sa Batalla in a frenzy of speed. Surrounded by trees and rock faces, the little road leads directly to a café. Five Belgian cyclists sit in the plastic chairs and burst out laughing every time a large coach tries to squeeze over the small bridge on the mountainside. The Belgians are on the island for the second time this year. "In January we were still seriously working on our form, now we're on holiday," says Frank Winne. When asked what the difference is between a holiday and training, he replies: "Every training camp with the organiser turns into a pre-season test of strength after a week at the latest: You scan the other participants in the morning and then try to outclass them at every bump in the road - all in the GA1 range, of course. We didn't want to do that this time and simply rolled relaxed across the island."
The treat at the end: After the finca and monastery comes a small, fine country hotel on the west coast of Mallorca. In Estellencs, I book into the Hotel Nord, which has been recognised by the Michelin Guide. The journey by car turns into an adventure - at least in Estellencs. The roads are no wider than a bed and are spread across the small town as confusingly as the lines in a Jackson Pollock painting. Every parked car has deep gashes in the metal. An elderly Mallorcan recognises my plight and guides me through the narrow streets. He smiles as he looks into the boot. "Ah, cyclist. From Germany?" he asks. I nod.
At the Hotel Nord, the receptionist welcomes me. "Do you want to eat right away?" she asks, pointing to the green, walled courtyard, whose walls shimmer yellowish in the candlelight. Four delicious courses await. Fish and wine melt in my mouth. The stars twinkle above me and make me smile at the usual queuing at the hotel buffet. Individual training camp - always a pleasure. But next time better with a few mates.
You can find out all about the somewhat different Majorca holiday in the PDF download below.
You can download the GPS data for these routes to your computer:
- TOUR 1: Coastal classic
89 Kilometres, 1.900 Altitude metres, maximum 8% Ascent
Route along the rugged cliffs. The section around Deià is particularly attractive - here you can look down onto the deep blue sea. In Sóller, you should take a break in the Plaça in front of the church and recharge your batteries with a freshly squeezed orange juice. Then quickly climb the Col du Sóller before heading back to the hotel.
- TTOUR 2: Meeting point of the winds
67 Kilometres, 1.320 Altitude metres, maximum 9% Ascent
As you approach Mallorca, you can already see Cap Formentor to the north - the turning point of the tour with its spectacular views. After the start at the Ermita, the road follows the coast, then climbs and descends, sometimes in the shade of the forest, to the Cap Formentor lighthouse, where a magnificent view of the Mediterranean awaits.
- TOUR 3: North Loop
121 Kilometres, 1.430 Altitude metres, maximum 12% Ascent
From the east coast, the road climbs up into the mountains of Mallorca, where you can talk shop with other cyclists in the café at Coll de sa Batalla. This is followed by a winding descent into the interior of the island and flat kilometres through towering reeds before Alcùdia.
- TOUR 4: Blessed round
118 Kilometres, 1.540 Altitude metres, maximum 12% Ascent
A drive in the south-east of the island, along the coast via Porto Cristo and inland. The highlight is the detour to the 509 metre high monastery on the Puig de Sant Salvador mountain, to which the road winds its way up. After a refreshing coffee, it's a pleasant downhill ride.
Downloads:
GPS data: Spain: Mallorca
PDF: Spain: Mallorca
