Menorca, home to natural women
As Portocolom extinguished its lights on another day we uttered our farewells to Mallorca. Cygnus glided silently out of the sheltered bay and into a velvet curtain of blackness that seamlessly draped itself over the sky and sea making them as one. We were travelling in a monochrome world but it was our world and somewhere we wanted to be. The night sky was our comfort blanket and the sea our pillow as we headed north towards the Balearic’s smaller sibling, Menorca. Occasionally our private bubble would be pierced by shards of uninvited burlesque colours from an island reminding us she was still there.
It was the first time we had retraced our own track but the recollection of lazy days in beautiful anchorages was cloaked by the night. The lights of Mallorca slowly reduced their sirens call and softly whispered a muted parting before yielding to the night.
Menorca is in sight
As the clarity of the day slowly dawned Menorca stretched her arms and beckoned us softly to her bosom. We had made no plans as to where we would join her but left that decision to the gentle, unseen winds of the night. We were taken to the very south-western point of her craggy low-lying shores.
The rugged natural southern coast of Menorca
The stunning Calas of Menorca
The southern coast of Menorca is a haven of inlets, beaches and cala’s which are among the most beautiful you will see anywhere, but the coastline still looks as it would have done centuries ago. Most of it was a nature reserve allowing a natural attractiveness to glow as opposed to the false, liberally painted, neon make-up of her two daughters, Mallorca and Ibiza. It didn’t take us long to find one of her sheltered coves and nuzzle into it. Our anchor became the umbilical cord stretching through crystal clear waters onto white sand allowing her to watch over us as we slept.
We awoke later that morning to a sun smothering us in the warmth of her gentle kiss. There were no man-made edifices to scar the landscape, just the pure turquoise waters and several other yachts completing the postcard views.
Menorca is the quieter of the Balearic Islands.
Menorca is like a mother to her two promiscuous daughters, watching over them silently, neither approving nor disapproving. In her day she had been like them as the many ancient monuments over the island would silently testify. It was a past life she was trying to hide under a natural bushel of undergrowth and shrub land.
We wanted to see more of this Island so took the dingy ashore to discover its secrets. We soon found that the naturalistic looks did not only extend to the land as the few families that were scattered around the beach were all as nature had intended. Not for the first time we felt overdressed in shorts and bikinis.
You don’t have to look far to find the remnants of history all around
Des Res for sale with amazing views
Off the Menorca beaches were small tracks leading through scrub land and trees along the side of the cove and inland. It was only when you delved deeper into the undergrowth did you see ancient dwellings carved from the rocks and ground. They were made by our ancestors many years ago but blended in to the surroundings, almost as if they were meant to be there. You could walk into their vast interiors through small, disguised entrances and find solace from the heat of the day. In times gone by there had been a large, thriving village here made up of these intricate caverns that gave shelter and safety. Now they offered a bridge to our imagination of what times were like then. It also made me wonder if we had benefited from modern technology or would we have been more content living a frugal existence in which family and community meant everything.
When we set out on this journey I had my own secret goals. One of them was to find a somewhere where modern technology did not exist. A place where you could sit on the beach under the stars listening to the sea gently caresses the shore. A place where the inhabitants had their own vocabulary which did not include the word “I” but only “we”. That dream was so close here but I was several centuries too late. My own personal Nirvana is out there somewhere and one day we will discover it.
So, before you ask I don’t know what came over me, a touch of madness, reading too many posh books or a Martin Luther King moment? I cannot believe I have written a blog without offending anyone. Well whatever it was it won’t happen again.. I am going back to reading Bill Bryson and Jeremy Clarkson.
Before I relinquish the flowery pen writing this blog reminded me of those wonderful, carefree days where the sun shone, the grass was smoked and Imperfectly Natural Woman burnt their bras. It was a time when the biggest worry was the colour of the flower you should wear in your hair and love was everywhere. So this is my tribute to those beautiful, natural women, wherever they are now.
Have you ever wondered what happened
to all those really cute and crazy, good-looking, barefoot, young hippie chicks?
Who didn’t wear bras, smoked weed, got tattooed, and were totally natural women
And had sex with every guy they met during that great Age of Aquarius back in the 60’s?
Well, wonder no more!
Kinda gets you tingly all over, doesn’t it???
We hope you enjoyed our views on Menorca and natural women but thank you for taking the time to read it.