This was planned as our “big day out in the mountains” trip of the holiday. It also coincided with the best weather forecast of the week for Sa Calobra, although it wasn’t up to much by usual Mallorca standards: 13 dec C with moderate breeze and sunny intervals, and small chance of a shower.
That was good, as I’d booked us onto the Sa Calobra Express for that day well in advance. This is a transfer service that picks you up at your resort (in our case, right outside the hotel) and takes you to the aqueduct by the orange juice shack just over 12km shy of Sa Calobra village. That cuts off a lot of cycling to get you there, so you can concentrate on the Sa Calobra experience. Colette was up for it, so we got ourselves out in front of the hotel for our 8am pickup.
I was expecting at least a large minibus with separate bike carrying vehicle, but it was just a taxi with a bike rack on the back. It seems that everyone except us had cancelled for this trip. That probably explains why the number of available spaces on the Mallorca Cycle Shuttle website had gone up from 7 to 14. Ach well, in for a penny, in for a pound… so I helped get the bikes on the rack and hopped aboard, then off we went in the direction of the Tramuntana mountains.
As we passed Pollensa, the mountains ahead looked very dark and foreboding, shrouded in heavy cloud. The driver turned on his windscreen wipers and we could see that the road here was very wet. Various words of wisdom from fellow cyclists came to mind, such as “Spanish roads are treacherous when wet” and “I never go into the mountains when it rains, because someone always ends up coming back bleeding”.
We started going up Coll de Femenia and the wipers went from intermittent to constant, as we started to enter the clouds. Colette and I looked at each other and wondered whether this was worth the risk. I had added extra money to our cycling wallet for this trip in case of emergencies, so we had enough to pay the driver to turn around and take us back.
Our start point. The road to the left leads to Soller via Puig Major, which the one on the right goes to a dead end at Sa Calobra.
However, the skies were looking a little brighter by the time we reached our destination and the rain had stopped, so we decided to man up and stick with the plan. It was cold, so we put on all the spare clothes that we had brought with us. The taxi had left though by the time I was looking to put on my gloves, and that’s when I realised that I must have dropped them when fumbling to extract some cash for the driver’s tip. Not a great start!
Halfway up the easier Coll dels Reis climb
So off we went… The first thing was a 2.2 km climb to bring us to the top of the Coll dels Reis from the south side. From there, it was a 682 metre (2,200 ft) descent to sea level at Sa Calobra harbour, at which point you turn around and cycle all the way back up again.
That OMG moment when you see the Sa Calobra road for the first time!
We were only seconds into the big descent when we were stopping to take photos of the amazing road below, twisting and turning its way down the mountainside. Starting up again, our big fear was skidding when cornering on the wet surface. So we made sure to slow right down in advance of the first turn – an impressive 270 degree corkscrew turn, known as the “nus de sa corbata” in Spanish (which translates as “tie knot”) where the road loops underneath itself.
Approaching the tie knot
When leaning ever so gently into this turn, a strong side-wind took us by surprise. After that little fright, I asked Colette whether she was still up for continuing, and she said of course, we’ve come all this way, let’s just do it.
Here we go… And the sun even came out for a bit!
I made sure to be super cautious on the descent, slowing to a virtual standstill before each hairpin bend. I was able to take as much space as needed for each turn, as the road was effectively ours to use as we pleased. I only saw two cars and one other bike on the whole descent.
Anyway, after a few hairpins, I stopped to see how Colette was enjoying it. She was a little freaked by the damp conditions, and was surprised by the steepness of the gradients. So she made her mind to continue descending till she was somewhere approaching halfway down, then would turn around and go back up. She was happy for me to continue to the bottom then climb back up, where she would be waiting for me.
So I continued descending, and the further down I got, the warmer and drier it got, and at the same time I felt I was beginning to get the measure of the road; it being quite a bit grippier than I had at first given it credit for.
Proof!!!
Soon, I reached Sa Calobra village where I took a photo and a swig of water, then set off back up. I think the fact that I’d been fretting so much about the dangers of descending the Sa Calobra road in the wet meant that I’d forgotten to worry about going back up. In fact, it came as a sweet relief! I was now able to enjoy the climb.
The enjoyment was multi-faceted. Firstly, I was going up at a nice, steady pace for me, so I wasn’t going to feel like my lungs were exploding at any point. Secondly, the effort was keeping me nice and warm in the fairly cool conditions, compared to the other time I did the climb, where I was sweating buckets in the heat. Thirdly, I was smugly expecting a personal best, since the last time I spent a significant amount of time stopped taking photos, faffing and eating ice cream at the cafe near the top.
I did stop once though, when Colette contacted me to say she’d reached the top. As it turned out, she had made quite good time and went back down to do more climbing to keep warm. Then she spotted some vultures, and possibly eagles too, and spent the rest of her time observing them while I made my way back up.
Photo courtesy Mallorca Cycling Photos
About 2km from the top, I was snapped by a photographer who arrived on a motorbike, taking photos for MallorcaCyclingPhotos.com. When the lens was on me, I noticed my power went up by around 100 Watts!
I met back up with Colette at the tie knot, where I paused while she pointed out a large vulture perched on a high place. After that it was pedal to the metal for another minute or two (or more likely five – who am I kidding?!) till I reached the very top of the climb. I was very glad to have done it again, and fully understood why Colette didn’t go the whole hog. In fact, the final 1/3 to 1/2 of the climb that she did definitely felt like the hardest part, so she certainly knows what it feels like to do the Sa Calobra climb and has the photos to prove it.
Next, we descended to the aqueduct where the orange juice shack was now open. It wasn’t a day for orange juice, so we ordered a couple of coffees instead. We drank them standing up as all the chairs were still wet. Then we headed for the Lluc junction, where we would make our minds up which route to take back to Puerto Pollensa.
Although I remembered this as a descent, there was a fair bit of climbing before we reached the mountain viewpoint. There were already lots of tourists filling the space and taking in the somewhat murky view. Some downhill belatedly started, bringing us to the Repsol garage, where we decided to have a spot of lunch in the adjoining cafe.
However, after parking the bikes, I couldn’t find any trace of our money. Colette searched all my pockets too, till we came to the conclusion that I must have lost it some time after paying for the coffees.
Pizza time!
At least Colette still had her bank cards, so we were able to order lunch (a surprisingly good tuna pizza). As we ate, the heavens opened and there was a commotion as dozens of cyclists rushed to take cover.
We were initially quite fatalistic about losing the money (about 115 euros) probably because we were mostly worried about getting back to the hotel without crashing on the wet descent. However, by the time I’d finished lunch, it seemed worthwhile for me to backtrack to the orange juice shack just in case the money pouch had been handed in. So off I went in the pouring rain, pedalling hard on the uphill to keep myself warm.
A fire engine then passed me quickly with lights flashing and siren wailing. I hoped that no cyclists had come to grief in the wet conditions. A little further along, there were three fire engines parked in a verge and firemen were making their way down the mountain with coils of rope over their shoulders.
Once the descending started, I took care in the rain and arrived safely at the aqueduct, where lots of cyclists were taking cover next to the shack. I asked hopefully about the money and the guy went round the back. Then the older chap who had served us earlier appeared and handed over the money pouch. I was overjoyed and gave him a wee reward to say thanks.
After phoning Colette to pass on the good news, I turned around and rode back to the Repsol garage. The wind was blowing the rain so hard that it felt like stinging hail. I was now completely soaked through. My Wahoo told me it was just 7 degrees C, but somehow I felt comfortable with it.
Passing the mountain viewpoint once again, there was a fireman standing in the middle of the road and a woman ran up to give him a huge hug. I concluded that meant the rescue operation, whatever it was, had ended in success.
With the 45 minute detour over, Colette suggested I have a coffee to warm up. She had had one while she waited for me to return, and also tried some of the cafe’s famous apple tart. I had quite a long queue to deal with though, and by the time I’d got my coffee and drank it, I was feeling properly cold.
It was sensible to go back by the most direct route, so we returned via the Coll de Femenia. Even though the rain had now stopped, I was struggling not to get the shivers, as that can make the bike wobble alarmingly, like what happened on our Algarve trip a few years ago.
At the bottom of the descent, I stopped for a shake-out to get the circulation flowing again, then we just had a few more miles of flat, fast road to cover before reaching the hotel to get out of our sodden clothes. It was a good job that we planned for a non-cycling day the next day, as my shoes took two days to dry out!
In the end, the ride delivered what it had promised, even though it looked like being a potential disaster at various stages. And as a final bonus, I was able to pick up my lost gloves from reception on our way down to dinner, after being handed in by the taxi driver. We were able to have a relaxing meal, basking in the warm glow of an eventful, “type 2” fun day out.