Pearls and Danger Zones
Expect the Unexpected
Within ten minutes of my arrival in Palma, Mallorca, Spain I knew I had to do some quick damage control. I was enrolled in a Spanish immersion program scheduled to start the next day. Yet, I immediately realized a different language ruled the roost in Mallorca. Spanish was number two in the pecking order. The strange tongue, so I discovered, was Catalan, a Western romance language common to several regions in Southern Spain, France, and Italy. Apparently, I goofed up when I decided Mallorca would be a great place for a Spanish immersion experience.
Change of plans: I decided to become one of the 14 million tourists a year that vacation in Mallorca, the largest of the Balearic Islands off Spain’s Mediterranean Coast.
I checked into a hotel along the Palma waterfront, where I got a room with a bird’s eye view of the harbor filled with the yachts of Europe’s rich and famous.
First item on my agenda - explore the island of Mallorca.
My day began bright and early by boarding a 1913-era, narrow-gauge train headed to the coastal town of Porto Cristo, 39 miles to the east of Palma.
Of course, we all know the distance between the inside edges of the rails of a narrow-gauge train is less than 4 ft 8+1⁄2 in. Common knowledge, right? The gauge on the train between Palma and Porto Cristo is 3 ft 3+3⁄8 in. This is very important information for you to have. You’ll NEVER be at a loss for small talk with this Ace Card of trivia tucked in your back pocket.
The antique iron horse rattled and chugged along the rugged terrain, steadily keeping a constant rhythm as it pressed toward its destination. Along the way, it passed several orchards and quaint villages that appeared to be untouched by modern times.
Mallorca is world-famous for its unique, handmade beautiful pearl jewelry. And the original pearl factory just happened to be in Porto Cristo.
You don’t suppose that influenced my decision to go there, do you?
With only a very short time frame allotted to the pearl factory, I was a woman on a mission. I started drooling like Pavlov’s dog over the showcases of shiny, glistening, precious Mallorca Pearl Creations. The sales clerks weren’t impressed with my slobber.
Beautiful, smooth, delicate, pearls whispered in my ear, “Pick me! Pick me!”
I selected a nice stash and high-tailed the heck out of there before I was tempted to invest my entire life savings in Pearls, Pearls, Pearls, and more Pearls.
I was scheduled to join the next tour of the nearby Caves of Drach. In Catalan it’s the Coves del Drac, in Spanish it’s Cueves del Drach, and in English, it’s the Caves of Drach – the Dragon Caves.
Going into caves where a Dragon lives? Am I out of my gourd?
The earliest written history about the caves dates back to 1338 when the governor of Mallorca referred to them in a letter. Three hundred years later, in 1632 the caves were mentioned again in the “History of the Kingdom of Mallorca” by Dameto.
Dameto’s book gave an account of a fire-breathing dragon guarding a treasure that the Knights of the Templar hid in the depths of the caves to protect it from being looted by pirates.
The Caves of Drach consist of four caves that are 80 feet deep and extend for 2.7 miles. These caverns are pip-squeaks compared to other notable caves around the globe.
So, what enticed me to go spelunking in these run-of-the-mill caves that are allegedly occupied by a fire-bombing giant winged lizard? (Spelunking, if you don’t know, is the act of “exploring caves.”)
Because the largest underground lake in Europe, Martel Lake, is inside the Caves of Drach. The lake is 377 feet long, 98 feet wide, and up to 39 feet deep. That is one BIG impressive underground puddle when you think about it!
The caves also house an amphitheater that seats 1,100 people facing the lake. Floating concerts of choreographed lights, music, singers, and performers in boats are held twice daily to sell out spelunking audiences watching the shows.
That is NOT an ordinary cave!
The journey to the amphitheater begins at the entrance to the caves and the path descends into the depths of the earth on a steady basis. The path can be narrow in some places.
The lighting on the stalactites and stalagmites was impressively artistic. Stalactites are mineral formations that hang down and stalagmites are formations that point upward.
Here’s a trick for how I remember the difference. Because you just never know when you have to tell the difference between a stalactite and a stalagmite.
StalaCtites have a “c” in them, so they hang from the “ceiling”; whereas StalaGmites have a “g” in them, so they come up from the “ground”.
A picture is worth a thousand words, so here are some pictures. I’ll stop yapping so you can take a look for yourself.
A quick 52-mile jaunt across the island took me to the Northwest beach resort of Puerto Sóller. I’m not a beach person, but if I was, Puerto Sóller would be high on my list of places to hang out. As it was, I had a couple of hours to kill before I was scheduled to hit the highway to the danger zone.
I spent the entire time clambering like a nimble-footed mountain goat along the rocky cliffs above the beach, snapping a gazillion pictures on my camera.
Either God installed my eyes crooked, or the camera was off kilter - I’m not sure which - but almost every picture was either cock-eyed or out of whack. It just should NOT be THAT difficult to hang from the edge of a cliff and take a half-decent photo.
Here are two pictures I kept. All the others were duds worthy of the “delete” file.
Yea! At least I have two pictures to show for my efforts.
Fait accompli with my photography quest, I boarded the bus and settled in for a drive along the scenic Sa Calobra Road and then back to Palma.
Within a few minutes, the bus turned south and started to climb into the Serra de Tramuntana Mountains. The grade on the incline grew steeper, the driver changed gears, and the bus powered down. The driver maneuvered the bus to the right, around a hairpin curve. The road grew narrower and steeper. Another hairpin curve, this time to the left. The road continued to climb and climb. Yet another hairpin curve, turning back to the right.
I sat up and I started paying closer attention. Some passengers, obviously jittery and anxious, made nervous comments about how dangerously close the bus was to the steep drop-off.
From the passenger’s viewpoint, every time the bus went around another hairpin curve, it LOOKED LIKE the front end was driving right off the edge of the cliff. Then, in just the nick of time, the big bruiser always managed to swing around, pull a 180, and head back in the opposite direction. With each turn, it gained elevation.
It was enough to make heads swirl and stomachs hurl.
Yup! That’s a long way down there, for sure. No use getting all bent out of shape. I doubt if the bus company put their most junior rookie on this route. Might as well sit back and enjoy the scenery. And, if perchance, we go barreling over the edge, then… Adios Amigos!
The Sa Calobra Road was designed by Italian-Spanish engineer Antonio Parietti and it opened in 1933. It was built completely without the use of any machinery. It has 26 hairpin curves and a 270-degree spiral bridge that curves around under itself like the knot in a tie.
The road climbs to 2,238 feet above sea level and the average elevation gain is 7%. It is the most dangerous road in Spain.
It is NOT a good choice for the weak of heart or the Nervous Nellies of the world. Right at the point where the going really got rough – the hairpin curves couldn’t have lined up any tighter and the elevation gain jumped to 10%, traffic came to a standstill.
Two drivers, headed in the downhill direction, had become overwhelmed. Paralyzed by fear, they stopped their cars right in the middle of the road. The narrow Sa Calobra was unforgiving.
Vehicles coming from BOTH directions were blocked. Our driver dipsy-doodled the bus around, parked it on the edge of the cliff, got out, and walked over to the cars. He moved both cars past the treacherous part and they went on their way.
He climbed back on the bus and resumed the steady climb up and around, up and around, up and around. It was evident he was quite used to lending a helping hand to fear-paralyzed drivers on Sa Calobra.
I like to believe I wouldn’t freeze up driving the Sa Calobra Road. But I know for certain, I would have to be driving a dependable vehicle that I trusted. Either that or I’d want to pack a parachute with me.
My day exploring Mallorca ended as the sun was setting on the horizon. The bus pulled up to the harbor in Palma and I walked along Marine Paseo back to my hotel. It was a good day.