Ibizan beauty and mad ramblings in the midst of winter

So, Ibiza in proper winter? In April, it's divine. In May, pristine, as I've said previously untouched like the calm before the storm. But in proper winter months, I haven't visited before but from friends who have spent their winters on the island have been assured that is a wonderful time to visit. Again, benefiting from low prices on account of the dip of demand currently, the prices were not unreasonable, given that a) the direct flights are infrequent and b) direct flights typically include two or more airlines thus having the potential to hike the price up somewhat.

With the small window of time, I had available, a direct flight with British Airways from London City would have been more convenient, but that wouldn't make a cheap weekend away. I searched and searched through the indirect options, Manchester, Stanstead, Heathrow, all typically routing via the Spanish mainland or Majorca. The flights that would allow me maximum time there were from Gatwick via Palma. Gatwick which, not only in terms of travel distance from Nottingham but car parking costs is always a bit of a ball ache, but hey it's Ibiza I'd live there if I could. This meant a 1 am departure from home to get to Gatwick for approximately 5 am to catch a 7 am flight with EasyJet.

In terms of the indirect flight via Palma, that was so much more comfortable and convenient than I had anticipated. But what I need to bear in mind for the future is that so long as I can get to Palma, Barcelona, Valencia or Malaga, which I could have done easily enough from East Midlands or Birmingham then, even through the winter there are multiple flights a day with the likes of Iberia or Air Europa onto Ibiza.

Where to stay? And whether to rent a car? I didn't really have an agenda for the trip apart from to chill out and get some decent exercise. I certainly didn't feature nightlife as part of this visit. A place that I always wanted to stay at Benirras, the yoga cube rooms was dirt cheap, but without a car this would have left me pretty isolated, so I opted for the Hostal Juanita in Ibiza town. Being based there at least there would be restaurants and bars open and easy transport routes to the rest of the island if needed as well as having some fantastic walking options from Ibiza town as a base. Frustratingly, being winter, the hostel reception hours were limited, and I couldn't check in until half four, which meant a bit of hanging around albeit supported by a good few beers and some tasty tapas whilst I waited. But it was still daylight when I checked in and I set off on foot on one of my favourites walking routes quite possibly anywhere. That from Ibiza town, along the sea front to Figuretas and down to Playa D’en Bossa. Just to feel the sun on my face and hear the waves crashing on the shore brings such a sense of peace and calm. I took the opportunity for a sea swim at Playa D’en Bossa, certainly a lot warmer than the rivers and lakes of the United Kingdom and a lot more pleasurable.

On the second day I planned in a big walk. This started with a good old root around Ibiza town. The last few times had been to Ibiza town had not been able to explore to the full extent of my liberty like I had done many years previously, exploring, getting lost, enjoying the narrow streets and tightly packed houses as you climbed higher up to the castle at the top of the hill. It was amazing just to soak in the atmosphere. Not many people around because it was very early in the morning, I took the time to walk down every little street that took my interest. At the top of the castle, I gazed out into the distance towards Playa D’en Bossa and beyond. That was my target of the day, to walk to Es Cavallet.

I knew it was going to be a fair walk but it was totally flat and there should be fairly straight forward. The absolute pleasure, as I gazed out to the sea in Ibiza town harbour, the sea flat calm and no one else around, sat on the sea wall with a dolphin slowly making its way jumping intervals across the day. All of the dolphin watching trips I've been on in recent years and see nothing, and here in this moment of solitude, just me and Flipper I was in heaven.

I took the time to stop off at Alimentacion Asturias, a tiny supermarket owned by a lovely old lady a couple of blocks back from the sea front in Figuretas, that I had discovered made the best bocadillos con jamon serrano y tomate in the whole entire world during my first visit in 2002. Stocked up with yummy food for my journey I carried on along the coastal path. The end of Playa d’en bossa beach, there is no apparent path around the headland, and you were forced to divert in land and then along the road that runs past DC-10 and Salinas towards Es Cavallet.

There were plenty of cars along the road but only a handful of cyclists or runners, certainly no one walking. However, I didn't figure that I was massively out of place. Shortly after passing DC 10 a pickup truck slowed, stopped and wound the window down. Where are you going the (very handsome) Spanish man inside ask me in Spanish. With my very British attitude I responded, “I'm fine thank you very much I'm walking”. Why do I do that? Why am I so guarded? Who knows the adventures and people you could meet if you were just a little bit more trusting?

So, he went along his merry way and so did I. Eventually reaching Es Cavallet, where I’d planned to swim, the sea was really stormy and the winds were strong. Only a few daredevil kitesurfers were in the sea so I opted not to swim there and to do it when I got back to Playa D’en Bossa towards the end of my long walk. Already about 20 kilometres in I checked out Strava, the battery on my phone now diminishing, but it seemed to suggest that there was a footpath around the headland back to Playa d’en bossa. This seemed to me to be a shortcut and as I don't particularly like retracing my original steps, so set out on this route.

I don't think that this route had been navigated in quite a long while and it was really hard to discern the footpath. I spent a lot of time getting lost but because the sea was to my right it was my navigation marker and I walked, and I walked. What I thought was to be one mountain became two, then five and 10, it was never ending. And then my phone died, the spare battery pack hadn't charged properly so was totally ineffective and I was on my own.

Still enjoying the walk but struggling to keep to a path. It just kept going on and on. For most of the time I was literally having to crawl through the heavy undergrowth. Shorts were a bad choice that day and see my legs were scratched to bits. When the track really seemed to be taking the piss, I hooked a left, thinking that this would take me in between the last two hills and dispense me out conveniently on to Playa D’en Bossa beach.

I was misinformed. I lost the path totally; the undergrowth became heavier and heavier and scratchier. At one point I was literally rock climbing up a steep surface! My legs were ripped to shreds as I wandered aimlessly through the forest trying to find a way out. Discarded sleeping bags, I mused, is this what happened to the last people that tried to take a shortcut? They never got out and had to sleep overnight…. But where did they go??

Occasionally I came across stone piles, as if someone is trying to guide a path out but frequently lost any sight of those. I was literally wading through the undergrowth but then what appeared to be light at the end of the tunnel I thought I could see the sea. But this meant navigating down and extremely steep incline which I preceded to fall down. When I properly got a glimpse of where I was, instead of facing out to Playa D’en Bossa, I was facing back to Salinas.

Essentially, I'd gone full circle but I was in no position to turn back as it was starting to get dark. So, I fell down the hill and headed towards the road. Unfortunately, though this was a stretch of road where every house I passed on the way out, ferocious dogs growled at me. On the way out I considered how lucky I was that they were behind a wire fence. On the way back, at the back of the property no such fence existed, and I was chased by angry dogs back up the hillside.

This is bloody ridiculous, I half cried, and half laughed at myself. Taking another major detour, I eventually made it back to the road blood streaming down my legs, covered in tree pollen and sticks in my tousled hair.

But who was this pulling up at the side of the road again? the pickup! My saviour. Luckily the driver who in his limited English and my garbled Spanish introduced himself as Nico was too polite to ask what the hell had happened to me. A reasonably brief yet pleasant truck ride took me back to Playa D’en Bossa and we parted ways. The swim in the sea was therapeutic as I washed the drying blood off my body.

The day's excitement didn't end there. As I arrived back, still on foot to Figuretas I took a seat in a restaurant for a good feed. A menu del dia at 16 euros per head was an exceptionally good deal and I tucked into a fritura mixta, tagliatelli and banoffee pie to finish. There was some sort of kerfuffle outside, and a youngish Spanish guy got laid into by an elderly Spanish fellow. What on earth was that about? And what prompted this unusual show of aggression? The chef from the neighbouring restaurant came out and seemed to diffuse the situation after pinning the younger bloke to the ground and giving him a good talking to. As he went back into the building the younger guy was pacing back and forth outside muttering to himself it was hard to work out what on earth was going on although I had noticed an increase in the amount of homeless people living on the coastline in Figuretas and begging outside the restaurants there.

He was seeming to try to go round the side of the restaurant that I was in. The next thing before we knew it there was a shout from the Kitchen the young Spanish guy ran through the restaurant from the kitchen out to the front door and into the neighbouring restaurant something in his hand. Basically, he had gone into the Kitchen of the restaurant I was in grabbed a knife and made for the neighbouring restaurant. Thank God someone was able to intervene before the attack on the chef and the police were called, the guy was wrestled to the ground and restrained and escorted off.

That night I slept like a baby.

The next morning, another early start as I headed for another favourite walking area. I thought, oh my God it's going to be another eventful day when as I reached the bottom of the stairwell I encountered an elderly Spanish man, trousers round his ankles crumpled in a heap. Managed to ascertain that somebody had let him in, I don't know why but he wasn't staying at the hostal but he seemed rather unwell. Another resident and I helped him to his feet and helped him on his way.

Luckily the remainder of the day was incredibly pleasant and involved a bus trip to Santa Eulalia, which for a winter visit, and in fact residency is really good choice. Compared to the other areas of the island I visited on this trip, Santa Eulalia felt alive and vibrant with plenty going on I'm many restaurants open. This is the most beautiful stretch of coastline I feel, and I walked from Santa Eulalia along past Playa es Niu Blau, Cala Pada, Cala Martina, one of my favourites to Es Cana and back, the powerful effect of the soothing sea and sunshine, I just can't find the words to describe but it is so good for the soul.

The Carnaval was on. That night I didn’t sleep. No clue what the hell was going on in my neighbour’s room although someone may have been murdered. The walls were paper thin.

My flight was timed on the final day for the evening, so I had a full day to enjoy. Let's try and walk as much of the island as I possibly could within the short space of time. There should have been a 9:30 bus to San Antonio. It pulled off just as I arrived at the bus stop which was round the corner from the hostal. I waited and waited for the next my belly rumbling. At the point that I gave in and went to grab a croissant and a coffee from the shop across the road the next bus came and went.

So, this is it, I'm going to walk to San Antonio, that's perfectly possible, and so I set off. I made it as far as Amnesia which was decent enough and then figured that if I didn't get there soon enough, I would be having to come straight back to get my flight without actually getting to see anything. The 4th bus that came along I managed to get on and enjoyed a beautiful coastal walk from Cala Gracio round to Es Puet. The sea was perfectly calm, again sense of tranquilly and beauty overwhelming juxtaposed against the dark, dark clouds in the sky. My stomach in knots and I felt the sky signified the state of my head at that point of time even though I was surrounded by beauty and calm.

Back again in 6 weeks…. Already counting down 