Framedlight

The last full day we had on Majorca was Good Friday. Overnight all the cafés seemed to have opened and there was an inrush of tourists. As if it knew, the weather changed from cool to warm. Alan wanted to ride his bike for the last time before leaving and I fancied a trip back to the Bóquer Valley, which I could do more or less from the doorstep of the apartment. I took all my camera gear and the tripod but unfortunately forgot to bring any water, and by the time I got back I was frazzled and miserable. Hot weather is not for me. At the start of the walk is an old farmhouse which has fallen into neglect, although now renovations seem to be underway. I stopped to photograph a few details from the front of the house. The light had become very bright and there was too much contrast in the cliffs to do much with snapshot wise. The conditions were very different from earlier in the week when it was cloudy. I persevered and got down to the sea which was calm and a translucent blue. ...

The footpath though the Bóquer Valley ends at a little rocky cove, the Cala Bóquer, which on the day we were there was full of choppy waves. The beach had an array of interesting driftwood and a rather too tame goat who was hunting for sandwiches. We sat for a while and watched the spray as the waves hit the rocks and we were lucky enough to see an osprey fishing, but not catching anything. We then walked back through the valley to the apartment in Pollença, which was only about 5 minutes from the start of the path.

In March Alan spent a month in Majorca, in order to hone his cycling skills. I was going to spend the last week with him in Port de Pollença, when cycling would become secondary! I duly left dog Hettie with Mairi and Lizzy in Derby so that I could fly out. I was booked on a  Sunday lunchtime exit from Stansted with Ryanair into Palma. Unfortunately the French traffic controllers thought otherwise and went on strike, cancelling the flight. I managed, at great cost, to get another flight from Gatwick at 11.00am the next morning. This was delayed by 5 hours, so that I  would miss my original connection from Barcelona to Palma. We landed in Barcelona at 7.00pm and the only flight to Palma with seats available departed at 7.30pm. This meant a run across the airport, through security again, where my bag was searched as I obviously looked a bit frazzled, and to the check-in desk where I had to wait for 5 nail biting minutes while they made sure that there was space for me. So inst...