Now well into March, with the promise of good weather ahead and spring just around the corner, we’re going to move on and leave behind the warm Caribbean winter to sail in the waters of the Old Continent, of Europe. Our bow is pointing towards the Mediterranean, an unusual name for a sea, a sea enclosed by land which is also our sea, Mare Nostrum, or at least that was the case for the Romans who controlled its every shore. An enclosed, interior sea bounded by three continents and dotted with islands of every size and shape that have served as bridges, as stopovers, on the comings and goings, passage, gathering and commingling of people and cultures throughout history.
Our destination today is, in fact, one of its most well-known archipelagos, at least by name: the Balearic Islands*, yet in contrast to what you might think, it is no easy matter to talk or write about these islands. I’d almost go as far to say that a sense of déjà vu floats above the islands like a dark legend, perhaps the price of fame. Fame that came much too quickly: mass tourism, mass development and the destruction of the coast now weigh very heavily, and apart from the very odd exception do not reflect the reality we might discover when approaching the islands in the natural way, by sea. If there were a magical incantation or a secret formula to open the doors and discover the secrets still held by the Balearic Islands, it’s obvious that we need to seek it in its waters, to invoke it from the sea.
From this maritime perspective the famous archipelago is still capable of gifting us with wonderful surprises and unforgettable experiences. First and foremost we simply need to cast a glance over the maps and its geographical position, and in this case it’s interesting to note that the five biggest islands that make up the Balearic archipelago are the most isolated, the most distant from terra firme in the whole Western Mediterranean. Only Ibiza and Formentera, around 50 miles off Cabo La Nao, still flirt with the east coast of mainland Spain, but the others – Majorca, Minorca and Cabrera – seem to have drifted away from their mainland moorings. These are truly insular islands, if you’ll excuse the tautology.
The archipelago stretches from north-east to south-west on a diagonal of 145 miles between the parallels of 40º05’ N at Cabo Caballería in Minorca and 38º38’ N at Cap de Berbería on the southernmost Formentera, the most ‘African’ of the Balearics. Because of their spread, and also because of the different meteorological conditions dominating the area, it’s a good idea to divide the archipelago into two sections, cutting Majorca almost in half. The northern part, including Minorca and the north-west mountain range, north coast and bays of Pollensa and Alcudia in Majorca, open to the influences of the Gulf of Leon and the quirks of nature and depressions that form in the Gulf of Genoa, seems like a separate entity, and is more exposed to the violent battering of the northerly winds of Mistral, Tramontana and Gregal. To the south, southern Majorca, Ibiza and Formentera suffer less from the sudden force of these winds yet are more exposed to the easterly Levante wind and a monsoon-type current that predominates in summer and is more evident the closer you are to the south and the closer you get to the coast of Spain. However, above and beyond these differences, which are extremely important when planning a cruise, we should point out that in normal weather the archipelago as a whole enjoys stable conditions and thermal breezes that are great for sailing during most of the year.
The size of the islands and the distances between stopovers/anchorages is obviously another factor that needs to be taken into account when planning a programme. Majorca, with an area of 3,626 km2 and a coastal perimeter of 300 miles, can constitute a single destination for a week or fortnight’s sailing, though because of its central position it can also be easily combined with one of the other islands. To the north-east, Minorca, declared a Biosphere Reserve by UNESCO, with an area of 694 km2 of unspoilt nature, separated from its larger neighbour by a narrow yet tricky channel of just 25 miles, offers perhaps the “greenest” alternative of the group. Two natural harbours, both with historical cities that are opposites in every sense, even rivals: on the east, Mahon, the dynamic modern capital, with its English legacy of Nelson and a century of three-way battles between Spain, England and France for dominance of this strategic island. At the other end, on the western side, is the monumental, frenchified Ciutadella, full of noble mansion houses and cobbled streets that come alive every June to celebrate the spectacular festivities of San Juan. And between them, in the north, on the Minorcan ‘costa brava’, is the cove of Fornells, a peaceful, protected bay and a safe haven from the frequent batterings of the Mistral and Tramontana winds. To the south lies the idyllic, welcoming rosary of coves, almost Minorca’s calling card: Canutells, Coves, Mitjana Turqueta, Macarella, Macarelleta, all of which invite you to dream with their sandy bottoms, turquoise waters and pine trees… the essence of the Mediterranean. A week gives you time to sail right round the island, alternating the dolce far niente of dropping anchor in the little coves with the buzz of the two main ports.
Changing tack, to the south-west of Majorca lies cosmopolitan Ibiza, covering 572 km2; its buzzing, sophisticated image, based around the Old Town, the legendary D’Alt Vila, and the port neighbourhood, is combined with a vast spectrum of beaches and coves, many of them still unspoilt, and an interior that pays tribute to its ancient name of “Pitiusa”, from the Greek pytis (pine), the island of pines. The island boasts a fascinating and paradoxical contrast between day and night; between the noise, music and exotic fashion fauna of its wild nightlife and the tranquillity and serenity of its unpopulated interior, its hamlets hidden among the hills, its whitewashed houses and churches under a diaphanous blue sky, dozing to the hypnotic rhythm of the cicadas. And what can you say about Formentera, once the hippy paradise of the Balearic Islands… its interminable beaches, its legendary fig trees, the salt-beds, La Mola, El Espalmador… words fail me. You simply have to witness it and experience it for yourself… though one image I will share is a sunset with the enchanted Es Vedra silhouetted against the horizon.
Unfortunately, we don’t have enough space or time to go into more detail. This just hopes to serve as an invitation to discover this little-known corner of our ancient Mare Nostrum. Next month, we’ll be back to tell you more about Majorca.
See you then, and in the meantime, safe sailing!
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* The etymology of the name “Balearic” is not entirely clear; it seems to derive from the Greek Ballo or Baleo, a verb meaning to throw or pitch, which would have alluded to the skill with which the ancient inhabitants of the islands handled the sling or catapult, throwing stones with the help of a leather belt. Various historical sources mention the presence of Balearic mercenary sling-shotters as part of the expeditionary troops of Hannibal, the great Carthaginian general, on the expedition that took him to the gates of Rome during the Second Punic War. However, the oldest name that the Greeks used for the archipelago, at least for the two largest islands, Majorca and Minorca, was Gymnesiae, referring to the nudity of their inhabitants or perhaps the fact that they used to go into battle naked. The word gymnasion derives directly from the same term used by the Greeks to name the place where athletes used to train naked.
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