Port de Soller – Cala San Vicenç – Port de Pollença – Port de Alcudia

We made it! The coast of Tramuntana let us pass, and we were not watching. Soller was a stop, a delicious one. One of the best examples of sustainable development of the island. There are fountains that distribute water to the city. Without having to pay. In restaurants and bars, someone tried to trick me, as always, with the usual lies: “the water is not drinkable, we can not serve it, has much impurities.” Bullshits, and moreover lies subject to the complaint. A restaurant in Europe and then, if I’m not mistaken, in Spain, MUST have drinking water. If you do not have it you must call the police and they, the police are obliged to close the restaurant immediately. There is also a European law that says that a restaurant or bar has an obligation to serve drinking water from the tap to anyone who asks. Obligation! I invite you to do the same. Do not be shy, cowards. Inform local water companies. The drinking water in the great majority of cases is better than bottled water. More controls, it is not conserved in plastic, do not need anything but cleaness and a bit ‘of  chlorine, which evaporates quickly. We must defend the right to water! In Mallorca the only truly non-potable water is in Sa Pobla, thanks to the generosity used in spraying crops with pesticides and fertilizers (Bayer, Monsanto and all those of Shame List thank you) to keep the unsustainable intensive culture of potatoes and vegetables. Sometimes 4 crops per year. And also, non-potable water, for some reasons, incomprehensible, in Porto Colom. Well, Soller gave me water, everywhere and in the end, but how many words, almost battles at times. Does it seem right? They sell me water that comes from heaven free for all. When the air surcharge? The lobby of bottled water, real criminals of the business, have convinced well administrations and restaurants. Many, almost all, public fountains are closed. In Soller it doesn’t happen. In Fornalutx as well. There is a button to avoid unnecessary waste and even a spoon to drink. Thanks to the local authorities! I recommend, about the lobby of bottled water, to see this documentary Flow. In the Port the usual trawlers. They make me so sick that I dare not interview them. They are poor. Of everything. Now they are scraping the bottom of a sea sick. The Mediterranean is a swimming pool now. In Mallorca we eat almost exclusively fish arriving from Africa, North Europe, South America. Many thanks to these fine anglers who have destroyed their and our sea. A sea that gave a living to many before them. Engines and boats too big to too small minds. Our llaut was built for fishing. Why dont we go back to fishing in some areas only sailing and rowing? Already being done in many other countries. A Falmouth in the UK, in the Gulf of Morbillan in France .. We leave Port de Soller in the morning of 6 August. It’s just us. The Noctiluca, our support boat has abandoned us. The engine (as often happens) had problems. Thanks for joining us for three stages. To the next. We only hope to sail. Alone we are and we just sail. For two hours paddling then gets up a wind from SW that is slowly increasing. The Sierra de Tramuntana is gorgeous. Perched villages, mountains more than 1000 meters above the sea. Few and not entirely safe shelters. Beauty harsh, difficult. For just a few. And for this reason it has survived to the speculators who are looking for easy money. Only a few horror in Port de Soller. The usual corrupts and corrupting. Misery, ignorance and ridiculous together. They do not know, can not see the damage they have done. They do not understand that the beauty and respect, at the end are also much more profitable. After seven hours sailing, some wonderful seven hours, we rea at Cala San Vicenç. A dream. Even here a couple of horrors museum. The Hotel Don Pedro, a masterpiece of human stupidity, and urbanization without history and without grace. Obscene. In the progressive abandonment, of course. Only a lobotomized person can dwell in those bunkers. We arrive at the base of Don Pedro, which reaches the sea practically (..tzunami wanted?!) after an entry sailing and rowing beautiful. Turquoise water. Pedalo red, in style Don Pedro guess, fauna very cheap. A protected cove on the right, a shelter and hauling that old used it for their llaut and we are at the beach. Happy after 22 miles traveled. Dear lifeguards welcome us. David and Dragan, who joined us to photograph our arrival, they sleep in the boat, I’m going back to Port de Pollença for the night. Eulalia Valldosera, our guest, take some great photos with precise indication of the small size of our horizon. Small brackets now: I’m writing from the promenade of Port de Pollença. There is one quiet and pedestrian. There exists another such heavy traffic that rivals Napoli. Absurd! The best place in town is polluted by men with short penis syndrome with their Harley fart, noisy buses, and motorcycles. And already there is a perfect ring to avoid this. These are Pazzi Pollencini !! SPQP Day after. Departure from Cala San Vicenç with a “terral” (land breeze) perfect. Then the wind dropped, and after half an hour sailing, rowing two-node, with the beautiful Dragan that weighs us down, we head towards the last head of the Costa de Tramontana: Cap de Formentor. Headwind and the usual “sofa with motor” (definition of Eulalia Valldosera) that give us beautiful steep waves. Gentlemen and sailors are so in these parts. Except for rare, very rare exceptions. Captains bar by bar, as my friend says Heras Fernando Planas. The coast again becomes a marvel. Limestone cliffs of 300 feet and more, caves, cobalt blue water, dolphins (shy), watchtowers of the XVI century Genoese clear imprint. A petrified scream, to paraphrase Herzog! When switched to fatigue and rowing against the wind, head Catalunya, we finally see the head and the Formentor lighthouse, 208 meters above sea level, we understand that we have passed safely this costa de Tramuntana. We are happy. Dragan takes some strong images. We have passed, alone, rowing and sailing, no engine and no barco support, like 1000 years ago. With the same sounds, noises and stretched fears. The same simple joys and deep. Only the sofa with engine that we pass heedless neighbors disturb this eternal world, archaic, indifferent to the smallness of humans, neither friend nor foe, “complicit in case of our anxiety,” as wrote Joseph Konrad who sailed enough sea routes and had seen much of the sea. The uncapacity and dangerous fools driven (pardon the arrogance but I can not call them ‘differently intelligent’) that increase more and more continue to create bad waves. The glass-bottomed boat despite my call via radio to lower the speed, as maritime regulation, does not slow down and wave creates a very steep and dangerous that makes us dance. A criminal and incompetent who holds the lives of many people. He put our lives in our noble woods of Nova Catalina that stands up well, but that could have been overturned. I will make a complaint. We have the video. Three other idiots will do dangerous things. A family man with a coffin that looks like a boat, or vice versa, with 400 hp, it turns on a few meters away, for no reason except his exhibitionism, fast boat with the word “scuba diving” and 12 people in edge that cuts the route before Punta Avançada at 30 knots, and another sofa motor, always crossing in the bow of our route. A difficult world for those who want to surf rowing and sailing a small boat. A great friend, Thomas, comes to meet with the artist Eulalia Valldosera aboard his catamaran Felix.  We are located in Cala Murta. Beautiful. Water green and turquoise. He picks Dragan on board and gives us Eulalia Valldosera, artist, beautiful and profound.(During these days Eulalia Valldosera , who I join in a relationship that goes beyond deep friendship, has been very close to our project. In the days of waiting, maybe the real travel cre-active moment (and which I will devote more attention in the next post) gave me her view of things, an analysis that often escapes me. She helped me to understand, to see what lies beneath the shadows of the light, to comply with rest and care. She joined our travel with enthusiasm and full participation. Even when the silence of fatigue clouded my mind and bend my arms.) Another dear friend, Diego Riera Hevia, sailing instructor at Club Nautico Puerto Pollença, with its mistral drawn from Primrose to greet us. These are gestures that are pleasing. Other boats, especially traditional, seen a few, indeed, to be a little ‘bit more precise, no one, by Cala Gamba, or from the day of our departure. It’s a bit sad. Then towards Porto Pollenca. With the wind in our sails. Strong emotion. Arrived at the port to see the idiot of the motorized coffin filling his big tank. I remind him of the fact and he ignores me. I can not help myself from insulting him. Ass face to boast to his children and his wife who is commiserating him. No reaction from the coward guy. We see a friendly face on the pier, a great friend, Sebastià Vidal, shipwright who built the oars, the mast and bowsprit of Nova Catalina. Not only has come to expect but also brought a crate of melons from Villafranca de Bonany and other vegetables. A gift that particularly moves us. An olive branch, symbolizing peace, and one of laurel, symbolizing victory. Symbols of this ancient Mediterranean. I wonder if the men of the sofa with motor have never received a gift like that? Tomorrow we leave for Port Alcudia. At 0700 arrives Joan, a friend of David and the lateen sail. We receive the gift of water from a catamaran designed by Wharram moored alongside us. We start rowing. There is no wind and it’s very hot already. The water is clear, you can see the bottom up to 8-10 meters. A lot of Posidonia (a fanerogama, a valuable plant that lives on the ocean floor) that oxygenates the water very well. We need to dub Cabo Pinar, the penultimate of our  difficult capes. In three hours we sweat a lot. Joan paddling strong. Too strong. He keeps pace battle. After the Cape one yet, Cabo Menorca and then the wind! Cliffs and pristine shot by long waves but low. In the winter here, with storms from the north, it is better not to go. After the second part we finally have a ‘Embat’ (thermal breeze) abeam that allows us to hoist the sails. Slip speed along the rugged coastline of the Bay of Alcudia. David, as always, brings this  wonderful and strong boat with seadog capability. They are one body. It teaches me a lot. On the whole. Thank you David! For the first time, I repeat, since our departure from Cala Gamba, July 27, 2014, a llaut is sailing and welcoming us. It ‘s Agustina, saved from destruction and maintained by a group of volunteers including Joan, Toni and others. It ‘a beautiful boat. Receive from members of the crew dell’Agustina a bunch of sweet wine grapes, and local levels. Pleasures of the Mediterranean. Once people undertook wars to taste the grapes of these fortunate islands. The eternal sound of the water that touches and supports the hull, without the noise of the engine, we skirt the island dell’Alçanada, with its picturesque lighthouse. In the background a golf course. Verdissimo! Beautiful to look bad to be incurred in an ‘island where water is precious. You could not use it for something more intelligent and sensible than throw a ball into a hole? Alcudia, on the contrary, Port d’Alcudia is an ugly urbanization that has ruined a beautiful bay. The ruins of the old power plant are perhaps the only charming thing (in their archaeological and progressive deterioration) in the bay. Shame, really; nature had been generous with this part of the world. A lagoon extended various water springs, protection for ships. And it’s also a city that talaioti, the Romans, the Byzantines, the Muslims of North Africa, and then the Catalans had built with respect and intelligence. Now from Port Alcudia to Can Picafort is a succession of horrors building. All for a low-ranking tourism. Very very cheap. The sweating horses and thin, and mistreated, in this powerful sun, pulling sad carriages, fake trains for sweaty tourists, trains without rails, fast food restaurants, shops and supermarkets that sell junk food to chronically obese and red-faced tourists. Theme park and ‘non-place’ for consumers abroad. Things already seen  worldwide and in the Mediterranean, particularly in this, idiot, cheap Mediterranean. The only beauty and quality that remains is the center of Alcudia,  the old Roman Pollença, perched in its medieval walls. And in our hearts and in the minds of the few who are fighting to save this beauty. We are guests, after our arrival, in the home of Joan. His wife entertains us with affection and generosity, cooking a glorious lunch with fresh fish, vegetables from their garden and water from the well. What ask for more? Joan shows me with sadness that next to his house were torn down without reason, some centuries old oaks that gave shade, oxygen and joy in this world. How long does it take for another to grow? Just a little bit for nature. At the end long cycles are only for us humans. But how to delete a wound so deep from beauty, from the common sense? I learn a lot from this trip. My love for the Mediterranean and its true lovers grows, so grows as my hatred, my punishment for its inhabitants, and so for those unable to live in harmony and so unable to comply with it. They do not know what they’re missing. They barter turquoise bays for plastic Jacuzzis, millennial olive trees for plastic palm trees and lawns made of plastic, wooden boats built for  gentlemen for ‘sofa motorized’ plastic, houses of noble stone for concrete bunkers. Greetings, enchanted (and, sometimes, angry) Giacomo