GR 221 – day 7
Sóller – Sa Calobra
Sunday, 3rd March 2024
22,3 km – total 186 km
We didn’t wake up until almost 10 AM, because at 8 AM it was still raining heavily and the wind was howling. Jozef cooks the eggs he wanted yesterday—all six of them—in the room.
That’s what I call a royal breakfast, also with tomatoes. We quickly pack up and leave exactly at 11 AM. My feet hurt quite a bit, but I’m hoping I’ll walk it off. Outside, it’s cloudy, and an icy wind is blowing. I can’t check the temperature because the batteries in my thermometer died. We start on the same trail we took three days ago.
After two kilometers, we take a different route toward the sea. The path is steep, overgrown, and serves as a shortcut to the serpentine road.
After an hour, we reach a viewpoint where there’s a kitten, and from there, the trail becomes more gentle. We pass through olive groves, surrounded by towering mountains.
It’s beautiful and remote here. Unfortunately, my feet haven’t improved, so I have to be careful where I step and walk slower. We take a break at Coll de Biniamar, sheltering behind a stone wall. From here, the path follows the coast, offering stunning views of the cliffs.
The sun even comes out, warming us up a little. Apart from some goats, we don’t see anyone. At 3 PM, we stop for lunch. After seven days, I manage to get oil from the sardines all over my pants—and I meant to buy sardines in tomato sauce, but I accidentally grabbed the chili oil ones. An hour later, we reach Cala Tuent.
It’s a small settlement with mostly summer homes. The trail ends here, so we walk along the road toward the famous Sa Calobra beach. Along the way, I book accommodation in Palma for tonight. We decide there’s no point in staying another night since my foot pain isn’t easing, and we would have only slept nearby and hitchhiked to Palma tomorrow anyway. We climb up to the pass, enjoying breathtaking views all around.
We declare this the most beautiful trail we’ve done here. At the pass, there’s a church, likely built so it’s equally difficult to reach from both villages. From the church, we take a shortcut through the bushes, visible on the map. It must have been a path to the church in the past, but now it seems only Czech tourists and we use it, judging by how overgrown it is. We descend quickly, as it’s getting late, and we need to hitch a ride from Sa Calobra, hoping there are still people around. The shortcut ends at a gate near some homes. We have no choice but to climb over it. It was easier than it looked. We arrive at Sa Calobra, where a few cars are parked. We go to check out the beach, but there’s a barrier indicating some work is happening since February. We see a few people standing by the fence, but no workers, since it’s Sunday. I’m the first to climb over the barrier next to the railing.
Everyone follows. The path to the beach goes through two tunnels, and they’re installing lighting. When we reach the beach, it’s almost entirely flooded by water from the Torrent de Pareis canyon, which is usually walkable in summer, but during rainy days, it can quickly fill with water from the Tramuntana mountains.
We take a few pictures and hurry back, hoping to catch some people who could give us a ride. The first car stops for us, even though it’s already carrying four people. We squeeze in with two Colombian couples. I’m surprised to find that my Spanish is better than their English. Luckily, they have phones to translate, and they show me they’re heading to Sóller, which is perfect for us. I have to focus hard to understand their accent. The road from Sa Calobra is extremely winding but incredibly scenic. The setting sun casts a beautiful light on the surrounding mountains. There’s a car accident up ahead, so I hide in the back to avoid being seen by the police. They drop us off in Sóller, and 10 minutes later, we catch a bus to Palma.
Half an hour later, we’re in the city and head straight to our accommodation. Jozef cooks all the food we had planned also for breakfast—eight servings of mashed potatoes, three cans of tuna, Parmesan, and ketchup. Who would have thought we wouldn’t be able to finish it? There’s a big TV, and I find Bridget Jones in Spanish. As I write the diary, Jozef falls asleep on the couch. Outside, the wind is howling and blowing through the apartment, but we’re warm and cozy in our sleeping bags.
