86 not out......and Menorca at its best

To celebrate my 86th birthday we were back on the beautiful island of Menorca. 

The Lord Nelson at San Tomas   (Click pictures top enlarge)

This time we chose a different resort, San Tomas, a little farther west from our usual stomping ground at Alcaufar - reason being we couldn't resist a greatly reduced package holiday at the recently renovated Lord Nelson hotel that afforded 4* luxury.  Thanks Tui...

Lord Nelson Hotel and beach

It was but yards away from a safe, sheen white beach with Lifeguards in attendance throughout the day.  Between the hotel and beach runs the island's circular trail, Cami de Cavalls, the way of horses, making it an ideal spot for runners.

Good for running

It's become something of a tradition to mark my birthdays with a run though I'm not sure how many more years this can continue.  Maybe future runs will have to be shorter, or flatter, which could get a bit boring. There was nothing boring about this year's run.

On Binnigaus beach

The first mile was along the Cami de Cavalls to the wonderful Binigaus beach, popular with sun worshippers, naturists and horse riders.  I'm not allowed sneaky photographs of naturists. Fully dressed riders are not quite the same, I know, but it was such a beautiful horse...

A little care required

We left the Cami de Cavalls at the end of the beach to turn Lt along Route 23, easy at first but soon calling for precise footwork as the terrain became increasingly rugged and exposed.

Time for an aria...

It was my sort of country, a route I'd pre-planned months before for my actual birthday and it was exactly how I'd imagined it to be.  Such terrain invokes bursts of song which I'm not sure my wonderful partner appreciates so I tend to stay well ahead of her, out of earshot!

At Cala Escorxada

After scrambling in and out of limestone coves with the sea lurking beneath us we eventually arrived at the remote and beautiful Cala Escorxada beach. 

Solitary gull

It was deserted except for a solitary gull and a lovely girl who'd somehow managed to get there before us.  "Only me" she said excitedly, before taking off all her clothes and laying naked in the sun for the duration of our three hour stay.  I could have joined her in my birthday suit (which has got a bit crumpled over the years), but needless to say I was dragged away to the other end of the beach.

For those happy to see the back of me.

We wallowed in hot sunshine, ate our well earned sandwiches (bread and meat stolen from the hotel at breakfast), gazed at awesome seascapes and jagged coastlines before psyching up strength for the return journey.  With a final "Adios" to the beauty on the beach we set off up the rocks.

The rocky journey home

We passed a few late starters, mainly Germans, making their way towards the beach, and another party who'd seemingly attempted one of the rocky sections but found it a bit too much. 

A refreshing swim

We danced by, dropped into a cove, climbed to a rocky highway teetering on the seas edge, then through a scrubby woodland to a more level trail leading back to Binigaus - and Lord Nelson where I couldn't wait to plunge into the pool.

On the Cami de Cavalls to Binigaus

The guide book mentions a cave of cathedral-like proportions - Cova des Coloms - some way to the north of us.  We set off in search of it.

Lots of these, whatever they are!

Initially, the route is same as that to Escorxada but veers Rt instead of Lt beyond Binigaus, continuing a short distance along the Cami de Cavalls  before leaving it in favour of a lush valley filled with flowers and birdsong.

Nightingale

What thrilled us most was the constant singing of nightingales, with the odd hoopoe joining in, all the way along this colourful valley.  They literally stopped us in our tracks. The sound is so beautiful. They're shy birds, seldom seen, but we managed to get a glimpse of one and take a rough picture of it.

Cova des Coloms

Along the way we met a couple who said the cave was closed, but we soldiered on if only to listen to the birds.  They'd obviously gone to the wrong cave for it would be virtually impossible to close the Cova des Coloms.  Such is its huge size.

The vast interior.

A lady was trying to photograph birds nesting on high ledges.  Another couple with torches were intent on exploring its nether regions.  I'm told bats can be heard squeaking as darkness falls.

Down for an evening swim, the pool area almost deserted - unusually

We returned to the Lord Nelson where most sunbeds around the pool were occupied - as usual. It annoyed us that folk were reserving sunbeds with their towels as early as 7am.  Our only chance of getting a sunbed after our morning run was to reluctantly do the same as others.

Cova des Moro with roof still intact since the Iron Age

We did a few other things.  Ancient burial chambers and Talayots were high on the list, the most impressive one being Cova des Moro at Son Mercer de Baix.  I only agreed to accompany my wonderful partner if we ran the 7½ miles from Ferreries rather than walk it!  We did, and had time for a cappuccino before catching the bus back.

The central well in the Convent at Ciutadella.

Ciutadella, Menorca's past capital with its magnificent Cathedral and Convent came under scrutiny. The latter contained a museum of old artifacts, ancient tools and machinery, stuffed animals and birds.  I like birds!

The Marina at Ciutadella

What we didn't like was a cafe on the waterfront where two cappuccinos cost the earth and were hardly worth drinking, cold and hardly enough to wet the throat.  We wont go there again.
A foray into Mahon, mainly to buy new sandals, was all over and done without a single photograph being taken.  But we did find an excellent watering spot for future reference, i.e. in September.

Cala Galdana

Highlight of our holiday, for me, was a wonderful run along the coast from Cala Galdana to San Tomas, a challenging 7 miles of unimaginable beauty with an undulating 1,316ft of ascent.  A couple who'd been to Cala Galdana the previous day were unimpressed but we thought it rather nice and would certainly go again.

A busy beach leaving Cala Galdana

Our actual running time was 2hrs 23mins but with time lost consulting the guide book initially, photographic stops and 20 minute lunch stop the total time was 3hrs 14mins.  We were admonished for running.  "Slow down" shouted a plodding German with trekking poles.  I told him we'd a long way to go.  Besides, I didn't get to 86 by slowing down!

Brief stop above the beach to consult the guide book

We descended a flight of wooden steps, crossed a beautiful beach and climbed steeply into woodland at the other side where we'd a brief stop to consult the guide book and admire the view.

Scrambling down to the beach at Cala Treboluger where there's often a river to cross

From here the going got decidedly rough as the trail rose and fell, rose and fell again over some of the rockiest terrain I've ever encountered. It wasn't long before the music began to flow.  I was loving it.   Onwards, to strains of Wild Mountain Thyme and Allelujahs until I turned a corner into a view that literally took my breath away.

Breathtaking approach to Cala Fustam

It was the little bay of Cala Fustam surrounded by rocks and trees, all presented in glorious technicolour. A solitary hiker sat on the beach and got commandeered into taking a photograph of a couple on horseback paddling in the water.

Running for home after lunch at Escorxada

The horses left before us taking an easy trail to Cala Escorxada but we passed them before they reached it and found a place on the rocks to devour our lunch.  Co-incidentally, a naked girl was lying in the sun in almost the exact spot where the one had lain on my birthday. The rest of the beach was deserted.

Almost home. Just another two miles..

Then the run for home over familiar rocks and dirt tracks, enjoying our steady rhythm over challenging terrain. I bless the day I became a runner, closer to nature, nearer to God.

A bit of pruning

One of the things that shook us a little on arrival at our hotel was the demand for 72 Euros in respect of Tourist Tax.  I believe we paid only 14 Euros at Xuroy in Alcaufar but that's only 1* as opposed to Lord Nelson's 4*.

And there are flowers everywhere

But everywhere around San Tomas is clean and tidy, hedges clipped and trees pruned with not a hint of litter on beaches or walkways.  Hours are spent cleaning the pool and surrounds each morning.  So we supposed that was where our Tourist tax was being spent.  Cala Galdana was immaculate too.

Free ranging horses...

We ran to Son Bou on one or two occasions, passing free ranging pigs and horses that gave us no bother at all.  Except one or two were anxious to get through a gateway with us bent on greener pastures.

...and pigs en route to Son Bou

Pigs roaming around and wallowing in the swamp must be the most photographed in the world.  They've become tired of posing!

Goats (one hoppled) with Talayot in background 

There were goats too, friendly little fellows, or ladies, that came to say hello to us as we passed by.

Cheerio everyone, I'm going for a rest......

Of course, we did a lot more things but I'm afraid cramp is threatening my typing finger(s).  Folk will just have to visit Menorca themselves to catch up on all the things I've missed out.
Bon Voyage   

A braw day on Castle Hill

My mind is constantly telling me to "Get running, you've rested long enough".  My body, in no uncertain terms says "Sod off, I need sunshine on my skin with healing ultra-violet, like I'll soon be getting in Menorca".

A little jog up to the Castle   (Click to enlarge)

Not that I've been completely inactive.  Every now and then I'll break into a little jog for a hundred yards or so, just to remind the old legs I'm not done yet.  Like last week on a braw day up Castle Hill when all the world, and their dogs, were taking advantage of warm Spring sunshine.

A well behaved Labradoodle playing with children

Gorse was flowering at its glorious best giving off a heavy scent of vanilla. In years gone by it was a favourite haunt of yellowhammers that bombarded us with their constant requests of 'a little bit of bread and no cheese'.  Last week I heard not one.

Gorse

Blackthorn was looking good too.  At its best it often presages a cold spell of weather - the dreaded blackthorn winter.  It may have been thinking about it for days later the temperature certainly plummeted.  Each Spring when I see the wonderful blossoms I make a mental note to revisit them in September and gather their juicy sloes.  I never remember!

Blackthorn

In Springtime next door's garden puts mine to shame when a beautiful camelia comes into flower and outshines everything else in the neighbourhood.  I really must sneak some cuttings off it when they aren't looking...

Camelias

In the  gloaming, just after sunset, a strange object appeared in the sky. It resembled a comet and stayed there unmoving until light faded. It was a long way away, just above the horizon and difficult to photograph without a tripod to steady the camera when zooming.  My old hands tend to shake a little, but I did my best.

Comet?  Or what?

Lastly, after 65 years, my service medal arrived in the post.  Upon demob I was homeless, so nowhere to post a medal to at that stage.   My guardian had died while I was on active service in the Canal Zone, her house sold and all my belongings mysteriously vanished.

For services in the Canal Zone

Earlier this year I got talking to a guy on a bus who'd also served in Egypt during the Suez crisis.  "Did you get your medal?" he asked  "No" I replied, "didn't even know I was entitled to one".   At the guy's suggestion I applied to the Ministry of Defence and after a couple of months they duly obliged with my boxed souvenir.
It brought back many memories.  I was a medic at RAF Kabrit on the Great Bitter Lake.  I was also a marksman and often had to ride shotgun on ambulances driving the 22 miles to the Military Hospital at Fayid.
Thankfully, I never had to shoot anyone!

The good - not so good - and distinctly ugly....

We made the right choice by visiting Staithes during a quiet few days prior to Easter rather than in the official Easter week.  We enjoyed some of the best weather in Britain with far more sunshine than we'd had in Tenerife a month earlier.

Staithes    (Click pictures to enlarge)

 The old village of Staithes is a geometric mish-mash of a thousand steps and dark passageways zig-zagging between random architecture on a steep hillside overlooking the harbour.   From our cottage eyrie high on Cowbar Lane we looked out over roofs of blue slate and red pantiles which, as coal fires were lit on chilly evenings, were sometimes shrouded in a blue haze.

Nesting gulls

 There was a constant crying of gulls and noisy nattering of jackdaws that nested on precarious ledges of surrounding cliffs.  Yellow flowering wild cabbage has taken advantage of any waste ground it can find on steep uncultivated slopes and roadside verges.  I don't think it's edible...

Rough sea

 It was coming up to full moon with resultant high tides that flung clouds of spray high up the cliffs and pounded the rocky breakwaters.  All very dramatic. 

A fishing boat arrives with screaming gulls

A mere half dozen boats bobbled in the harbour, vastly different from years gone by when Staithes was the busiest fishing port north of the Wash.  Hundreds of creels and lobster pots were stacked neatly by the harbour wall.  None appeared to be currently in use though we noticed some being repaired.

A wonderful watering hole - the Cod and Lobster

 The only general food store is a Co-op situated on the main Whitby road, 25 minutes walk away from where we stayed, but a few vegetables, cheese and milk can be obtained from Betsy & Bo in the old village.  The Cod and Lobster was a hive of activity making it difficult to move freely among drinkers, diners and dogs.  But it was warm and welcoming offering excellent value for money on all its commodities. We couldn't visit Staithes without sampling freshly caught fish from the pub's extensive menu.  It was excellent, but huge.

Inside the cosy Cod and Lobster

 "When I decided I should eat more fish, a whole haddock wasn't quite what I meant" I remarked to Mine Host.   He laughed, glad that we'd enjoyed it.  We departed, puffing and panting up the steep hill to our rented cottage.

On the Cleveland way towards Runswick Bay

 Conveniently, for us runners, the Cleveland Way undulates along the cliff tops on its 109 mile route from Filey to Helmsley.  We took full advantage of it for our morning runs clocking up 18 wonderful miles over 3 days.

Gently does it - running north

 We weren't running fast but gently and enjoyably as befits a pair of senior citizens with 158 years between them.  We began by running 7 miles south to Runswick Bay and back on a day of blinding sunshine, blue sky and extensive views.  Gorse was flowering, skylarks sang and all was well with the world.

Doesn't get much better than this

 The next day we ran the opposite direction past Boulby mine and Red House Nab, up Rockhole Hill to a viewpoint at 2½ miles.  We stopped for the obligatory photographs against sunlit seascapes, of waves rolling in and breaking on the rocks below while a strange object drifted across the horizon.

Strange contraption floating by

 We repeated the same run two days later but ventured a little farther, as far as a deep hole in the path surrounded by poles and wire netting at the 3 mile mark.  We needed sun glasses to shield our eyes from dazzling sunlight.  The sky was a beautiful Titian blue.

The path over dramatic cliffs

 As on our Runswick Bay run, flowering gorse and lesser celandine enhanced our route as skylarks scattered their joyous notes into the clear air.  Gulls crying over the sound of the sea and a gentle breeze brushing our faces, kept us cool and happy as we ran the undulating path high over dramatic cliffs and breaking surf.

Enjoying wonderful blue sky while most of Britain got soaked

 On Good Friday, as many folk were setting off on their Easter holidays, we drove home to rain, snow and bitterly cold temperatures. We managed an Easter Sunday run round a snow grizzled Grimwith reservoir where greylags, oystercatchers, curlews, lapwings, chaffinches and wonderful whistling teal formed a combined choir to cheer us on our way.

Grey sky and snow round Grimwith reservoir on Easter Sunday

 But, to be honest, we were glad to get home to our porridge, toast and hot, reviving coffee.

Dunno when I'll run again. 

Note that tiny spot over my left eye

I'm grounded for a wee while after recently having my perishing skin cancer thingy hacked out.

...and the mess after all its roots had been dug out

It was only a little raised spot but it's roots spread all over the place, like a bloomin' octopus.  It made rather a mess.....but I'm recovering.