We’re sitting in a shady square in the charming golden Mallorcan town of Pollença, halfway through our second pastry of the day after a morning pedalling past palm tree-lined boulevards, luscious green olive groves and mountain goats.
It’s Sunday, market day, and we’re among multi-generational families sitting round for a morning coffee; locals enjoying a lunchtime cerveza, and fellow cyclists, plodding around the markets in their Lycra and comparing notes about whether to take the flatter or the hillier route to get back to the hotels down in the port after lunch. Obviously the hillier one, if you’re after epic views.
