Day What?

Time is flying by here in Deya.  It’s Tuesday; one week ago I was waking up to bagels in New York about to head to JFK.  A lot has happened in a week.   Everything mostly falls into a four categories (food, climbing, driving/walking, and Sa Fonda), which I’ll try and cover in the next few posts.  It might take a few to catch up...

Food: 

I’ve been slacking in taking careful notes of our daily activities, so after a week I’m finding it difficult to remember exactly where and when we have been eating.  Some meals, though, are hard to forget.  Our first night, refreshed from a 3-hour, jet-lag nap, we walked into town, just a few minutes stroll uphill.  Deya is quiet this time of year, and a few of the local cafes were already closed for their winter holiday—the fancy hotel across the street closes for the entire month of January.  Most restaurants that remained open were quite expensive, and we were hungry for tapas, so up the stairs we went to Café Sa Fonda.  Their sign promised tapas, ensaladas, and bocadillos.  At the bar, we stumbled through basic Spanish phrases asking for a table and menu.  In English, the gray-haired bartender said “No food.”  “Tres cervevas,” we responed (this was to become our mantra), and took our ice cold beers outside onto the patio.  A while later (see the Sa Fonda section below), we headed back down to the street, famished.  The only restaurant open was the priciest of all, but our judgment now clouded, we sat down and ordered wine and suckling pig and the local fish.  I know have a new understanding and appreciation for pork.

Climbing:

At first, we lacked a guidebook, and ventured into the unknown with enthusiasm.  Reilly had spotted a cliff during his taxi ride, so drove south on the second day and found a beautiful limestone crag spitting distance from the road.  It was mid-afternoon by the time we arrived, but we climbed until dark and got up a handful of inspiring routes.  Luckily, even in our ignorance, we chose mostly moderate routes and were able to complete them all.  The rock on Mallorca is largely limestone—a type of rock that lends itself to beautiful, unique, perfect, (I could go on) climbing routes.  The holds are varied and unlike any other stone I’ve climbed.  Deep pockets, tiny crimps, tufas (like stalactites) that snake down the wall.  The colors are astounding—blacks and grays, of course, but vibrant oranges and reds too.  And in the background, the blue of the Mediterranean.  

The second day, we head for another roadside cliff.  I printed a basic guide to it from a climbing website, so we have some idea of what grades are ahead.  When we arrive, we realize we’ve forgotten the rope.  We head into Palma, the big city, to buy a proper guidebook.

The next day, we head into the mountains.  Sa Gubia is our destination.  After a walking down a few wrong roads and encountering a few savage looking guard dogs, we find the dirt track, follow it to a dry river, and scramble up the polished stones high into the hills.  The walls here are immense—a thousand feet or more in places.  We stick to some of the lower walls and knock of a handful of inspiring climbs.  Dan tries a steep line and only makes it halfway, but wants to try again another day.  At one point, as stand on a steep rock slab that leads to another cliff, a sheep appears from above and careens by us in the way that only sure-footed sheep can.  We watch in awe as it ably slides down rock that we had climbed tenuously on all fours a moment before.

Each morning, we plan to wake early, but the village is so deep in it’s valley that the sun doesn’t pass the peaks until noon.  After another late start, we head for a cliff with a short approach.  SO short, in fact, that you step directly from pavement onto limestone.  This cliff, perched on a narrow road high above Port de Valledemosa, is the most dramatic of all.  The panoramic view is absolutely stunning—the village thousands of feet below, the peaks soaring above, and the sea stretching towards infinity.  We climb until dark again; the sunset is maybe the best I’ve ever seen.  Deep pinks and reds glowing across the clouds, reflecting off the green hills and blue water, shimmering on the waves.

Yesterday (I think I’m all caught up), we again headed up into the mountains.  Goats ambled through the forest at the base of this cliff.  What we find is, as usual, inspiring.  Our first climb is up a narrow chimney.  Like climbing a doorjamb in grade school, we all wiggle ourselves up this maw of stone and find exultation once on top.  The next is my favorite climb so far—very tall, very scary, and very amazing.  Nearing the top, I find I’m running short on gear, and in my panic-induced tunnel vision I miss the obvious line, scramble up a dirty, brush filled gully, nearly pulling down several loose blocks of stone.  Finally, trembling, I hold with bush with one hand and ease back out onto the face.  One more delicate step and I clip into the anchor—safe.

That’s enough catchup for today.  I’ll write again soon about driving and walking, and more eating, and of course, our favorite café: Sa Fonda.  And soon, we’ll check out some beaches and hopefully climb over the sea…

More to pictures to come soon!