Winter in Ibiza - Exploring the North

Before we ever left for our vacation Kathryn and I had discussed the possibility of renting a car (depending on prices) to have a better opportunity to explore the little island, and after the recommendation of our server it was a necessity. We figured Saturday would be perfect because we could have the car for the weekend. There was a little flyer for rent-a-cars at the front desk of the hotel and after breakfast we inquired with one of the hotel staff about how to go about renting one. The woman at first didn’t understand what we were asking, but when we pointed to the sign she said (in a rather matter-of-fact voice) that they were closed because it was Saturday. I mean what good business that specializes in tourism amenities closes down for the weekend? At first we were slightly discouraged and worried that we may have missed our chance to go exploring, but the woman seemed to recognize our trepidation and told us about a couple different companies within walking distance that most likely were open.


With our hope renewed we walked not two blocks down the road when we came upon another rent-a-car place with a very charismatic and helpful attendant. He hooked us up with a very affordable little European-style mini Chevrolet, and provided a map. Next he suggested that we check out the north of the island the first day (then drew out a convenient route to take us past the most interesting towns/beaches), and see the southern half the next. It sounded like a good plan so we hopped in the car (started off nice and slow so I could get the feel of driving stick-shift again since it had been a good two years) and took off north partially following the path we walked the previous day towards Santa Agnès.

We had planned on stopping in Santa Agnès but it was such a small town with nothing more than a church, and the weather was so warm and the countryside was so beautiful that we just kept on driving. The road twisted and turned first through some farming communities where we saw old Spanish couples walking through rows of olive trees carrying chainsaws and pruning their crop. The trees were just starting to bloom, and they were covered with tiny whitish-pink flowers. Next the road narrowed and we began climbing in elevation up into the more “mountainous” central region of the island (I use quotes because for someone coming from the Midwest they were mountains, but someone from say Oregon may not see them the same).

The first stop on our trans-island journey took us to the town of Sant Miguel de Balansat. It was the first town we passed that had a “main” street, and more than one restaurant/bar. Unfortunately our reason for stopping was less than ideal. When traveling by airplane recently it has become common for Kathryn to get sick, and this time was no different. She contracted a flu-like virus from the flight over so we stopped to find a “Farmacia” to stock up on aspirin and throat lozenges. Luckily as bad as she felt, just being in such an idyllic setting with warm sun beaming down constantly gave her the strength to power through the illness, and she never let it slow her down (well that and at least an hour or so siesta each day).

Once Kathryn was sufficiently medicated we got back in the car and followed the signs down towards the coast and the Port de Sant Miguel. One of the best parts of our excursion was the feeling of isolation, and that we had the whole island almost entirely to ourselves. When we got to the port the surrounding town was totally deserted save for one tiny bar/café right off the sand. There was also an elderly gentleman combing the beach with a metal detector. After basking in the sun for a few minutes we discovered a small trail leading around the edge of the water that then went up the hill and along the cliffs that lined the bay. We followed it for about five minutes or so before it opened up into a very secluded second beach that was surrounded by miniature boat houses. There was also a large concrete slab about 100ft. from the water that in the summer appeared to be built up into a bar to cater to all the tourists.

Leaving the Port de Sant Miguel we headed to the most northern point of the island and a town called Portinatx. This town, like most of the others we came upon, was all but deserted. After pulling multiple u-turns and one wrong turn down a one-way street we found a decent parking spot, and walked down to the water. The beach once again looked like a major tourist destination in the summer months ringed with bars, hotels and restaurants, but at this time there wasn’t another soul in sight. While relaxing in the sun on the beach we noticed a very faint stone lookout structure in the distance, and decided that even though it looked relatively far away we could probably hike to it. So we crossed the beach and began walking in the general direction of the tower (if you look very closely in the picture you can see it on top of the hill). The path we chose took us through some closed down resorts and along some cliffs overlooking the water, and after about 45min the structure finally came into full view. There were no identifiable markings or plaques explaining the history so I can’t tell you the exact purpose for it, but based on the location (and the fact that we saw about five or six others around the island as we were exploring) leads me to believe it was an old sentry/lookout tower strategically positioned to observe and guard the island from invaders. Unfortunately the exits were sealed so we couldn’t climb inside and see the view from the top.

By this time we were starting to get rather famished. We thought back to the meal we had the day before of paella as well as the recommendation from our server. He had mentioned that the restaurant we needed to try was also on the northern part of the island, but he also told us that it gets so busy you need to call ahead for a reservation. Since technically it was in the same direction we were going to get back to the hotel we figured it couldn’t hurt to swing by and check to see if they had a table available (if so great, if not we would just make a reservation for the following day and come back).

The name of the restaurant was Restaurante Pou d’es Lleó and it was in the town of the same name. The town itself we never saw, but by following the well marked signs we made it to the restaurant in about 15minutes. By the time we arrived lunch was just getting started (it was 1:45pm) and they had a number of tables open. The first lady we asked for help spoke no English, and she called over a gentleman who knew enough to tell us where to sit. The first encouraging sign was that all the customers there were Spanish; the second was the size of the menu. They had three different options, either paella, grilled fish or a type of Spanish fish stew. If a restaurant’s menu is that small it means they have perfected their craft, and you cannot go wrong with whatever you decide to order. Our choice had been made for us by the server who recommended the place. Underneath the name of the restaurant that he had given us he had written “Bullit de Peix” so of course that’s what we got.

While waiting for our food they first brought out some baguette with a garlic butter spread and a small bowl of Spanish olives. It was so good I had to remind Kathryn (and myself) not to fill up on bread before the actual meal arrived. Next for our first course came a fish soup, but this was not your ordinary run of the mill fish soup. This was a bowl filled with Spanish risotto rice, covered in a thick but not too creamy fish soup that was filled with bits of octopus, mussels and was garnished with crab legs. It was the best soup I have ever eaten, better than New England clam chowder, better than South Carolina she-crab soup, just unbelievable, and it was only the first course. For the main dish they brought out a platter of different fish boiled in a special sauce of Spanish seasonings, and laid over a bed of potatoes also drenched in the amazing sauce. The fish was perfectly cooked, fell apart off the bones and melted in your mouth. Even having already gorged on everything that had been brought before it (and Kathryn exclaiming she was full following the soup) we polished off the entire tray. As I watched Kathryn picked through the discarded bones that were left over making sure every possible scrap of fish had been eaten I was overcome by a feeling of disappointment. This was without a doubt the best meal I have eaten in Europe, and even though I had eaten to the bursting point, I was disappointed that it was over. Then when the waitress came back to clear our plates she uttered some of the most beautiful words I have ever heard: “Poquito mas?” What we hadn’t realized was the meal was all-you-can-eat, and after about a minute of waiting she brought out an entire new tray of fish. Kathryn was full but I finished it all until I couldn’t imagine eating another bite. It was heaven, and if someone local ever recommends a restaurant again I will fall over myself to get there as fast as possible.

Once we regained the ability to walk after such an amazing lunch we drove back across the island to our hotel for a much needed siesta. Kathryn was still fighting off her flu so we spent about an hour or so relaxing in our room until the sun started to go down. At that point we both rushed to get dressed and make it down the street to the bay to watch the sunset. Being a little groggy and still quite full from our lunch we made it just in time as the sun was starting to go beneath the horizon. Up to that point the sky had been virtually cloudless all day, but it seemed at just the right time a few tiny clouds blew overhead at the perfect moment to be turned vibrant shades of red, orange and pink by the descending sun.

As the day before we rounded out the evening with cerveza’s at the hotel bar. The north of the island had a character totally its own, and while it did have beautiful beaches it was very rural and mountainous. Sunday we planned to hit the southern region of the island which is known for having more numerous beaches. While at the bar we did a little chatting with the bartender because we were in there rather early and no one else had wandered in for dinner yet. He was an elderly guy, and we talked about everything from U.S. and European politics and the healthcare systems, to the fact that his son is studying marine biology in Valencia Spain, and his daughter is 30 and still living at home with him and his wife. He was a really nice guy, and in the course of our conversation he mentioned a little bar he recommended for us to try in a town that is just about dead center of the island. So you know what that means.

Hasta mañana,

-Jordan and Kathryn