I had been coming to Menorca almost every summer since I met my wife; her father owns an apartment overlooking Mahon harbour, itself another safe playground for people who mess around on boats. For the first few years I was happy to explore the island by car or on foot. Then came a Damascene moment while sipping an aperitif on the balcony.
Having spent endless evenings watching all manner of craft come and go below, from cruise ships and Abramovich-sized yachts to small put-put launches and Biblical-looking fishing boats, I was suddenly struck by the realisation that, as a landlubber, I was missing an important dimension to this fascinating isle.
Menorca is only the third-largest of the Balearic islands, yet it has more beaches than Mallorca and Ibiza put together. A fair few of these are only really approachable from the sea. My wife and I joined a catamaran day-trip to one such deserted cove; there was a delightfully Robinson Crusoe-like feeling to weighing anchor, diving in and swimming ashore, where a paella was cooked for us on a bonfire of driftwood.
Menorca shares many blessings with its visitors. The island is 10 degrees closer to the equator than the southernmost point in Britain, on a par with the far south of Italy. The Mediterranean minimises the extremes of climate – but has maximised the cultural intensity. From enigmatic stone structures built by pre-historic man, to dazzling 21st-century Spanish architecture, man’s impact on Menorca is fascinating.
And I am part of the latest, and mostly benign, invasion: tourists. Many of us are in search of an accessible yet discreet island whose strongest suit comprises beautiful, shady coves that serrate the southern coast. But it has plenty more on offer.
The strikingly handsome port of Ciutadella, at the western end of the island, is steeped in naval history but now provides moorings for pleasure craft. It feels as cosmopolitan as St-Tropez or Capri Town, minus the bling and high prices. Ciutadella also provides a good location from which to explore the stone structures of San Catlar (including an impressive wall), and the cliff-side caves of Xoroi. At the other end of the island lies the capital, Mahon (or Maó in the local dialect). This is another pretty port, which seems frozen in mid-tumble to the harbour. It has the distinction of being the first place in Spain each day to welcome the sun – don’t miss the fascinating Churrigueresque touches in the church of San Francesc.
And then, of course, there is learning the ropes. Having made my first forays into dinghy sailing on the slate-grey waters of a reservoir near the M3 in Surrey, I can vouch for the fact that the warm, blue lagoon at Fornells makes for an altogether more enticing arena for the inevitable capsizes. I hired the dinghy by the half-day, but for those wanting a more single-minded nautical experience, various companies offer specialist sailing holidays.
