It's a strange feeling to lie face to face with a crab on a slippery boulder. Especially if you really did not want to go there. But on the left and on the right the rocks stand vertically out of the sea, there is the flat, slippery stone on which the last wave carried me, still the best alternative.
The crab has now taken flight from me, the neoprene monster, and I try, more or less graceful to slide back into the water. Behind me in the crystal-clear sea, a Briton snorkeling, from a rock eight meters high on the right her friend jumps in a perfect arc with a dive into the water. An American woman hangs from a boulder, half a meter above sea level, before laughing and falling back into the water.
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Coasteering on Mallorca: Trust yourself!The sport Coasteering originated in the seventies on the coast of the county Pembrokeshire in Wales. There she got at least her name, he is a combination of "Coast" and "Mountaineering". Of course, humans have been moving along shores for thousands of years, fishing, picking clams or finding access to secluded coves. Coasteering, however, combines climbing, swimming, hiking, snorkeling, cliff diving and diving into an adventure sport.
Gerd Kohlmus has brought us to this remote corner of the Victoria Peninsula near Alcudia in Mallorca. Now the coasteering guide wants us to swim after him - towards a rocky outcrop in the coastal cliffs. We crawl about two meters into the darkness.
"And now turn around and go underground," says the 51-year-old. The gaze goes under the water out of the sea cave into the bright blue, hundreds of sea bream and mackerel sparkle and flash in the light, the rocks form a jagged-black frame. Back on land, the group crawls, crawls and climbs in the horizontal over the sea. Everyone is looking for their own way. If there are no handholds or kicks, you fall into the water and simply swirl around the stone obstacle.
Mallorca away from sangria buckets
Coasteering has quickly become a trend in Mallorca. A dozen or so vendors organize tours on the rocky shores of the island. Kohlholz from Allgäu and his French partner Patrick Imbert, 55, have been running Active Alcudia for five years. "We notice that the interest in coasteering is strong," says Imbert, who used to work as a boat builder, jazz bar operator and kayak guide, "it's the movement in nature, seasoned with a dash of adrenaline and lots of fun."
If you get involved in the coastal scramble, far away from high-rise hotels and sangria buckets, you will get to know another Mallorca: the island in close-up. In slow motion. Every grip needs to be considered, every rock feels different, underwater starfish shine. You scratch over edges, swim under water through short tunnels, balancing over rocks.
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The equipment is simple: The participants put on normal sports shoes, the organizer puts the wetsuit and maybe even a snorkel mask. "I always buy garden gloves from the hardware store for the participants," says Kohlmus, "so that you have a good grip and get less abrasions and scratches." In addition, you could push aside jellyfish without getting burning stings. For those who come in contact, Kohlmus always has a bottle of vinegar for rubbing in.
Beginners coasteering such as that of Active Alcudia (four hours cost 40 euros), where only a few hundred meters back, are a kind of game with the terrain, rarely is it higher than one, two meters above the sea. Cliff jumping is not compulsory - but you should not miss it.
Thrill in the dove cave
Advanced players will find Pep Platel and his coasteering company VIU Aventura (five hours for 70 euros) a more exciting playground. The 50-year-old leads the cliff climbers to the Cova des Coloms, the pigeon cave.
We meet at 7.30 in the morning. "If we start too late, we may not be alone anymore," he says. He stuffs helmets, harnesses, rope and long wetsuits in rucksacks. We walk through a kind of bush steppe from the parking lot to Cala Falcó.
After about an hour we arrive at a 22 meter high rock wall, which drops steeply into the sea. Sunflakes, seagull screams, no one to see. In the harness we rappel on a ledge, from which we should jump down the cliffs.
Lukas, 16, and Jonas, 13, hesitantly look after their father, who jumps twelve meters short - the flight phase seems to last forever. The family comes from near Stuttgart, she wants to do "a boy thing" today. But the two teens do not really dare and drop a few feet before they jump. The loud splashing breaks the silence, then cheers.
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We swim to the entrance of the dove cave, paddling slowly into the darkness. Platel distributes headlamps, inside the cave we get out of the water and walk through a sand-bottomed hall. Stalactites hang from the ceilings. We squeeze through narrow passages, slip down steeply polished rocks on the neoprene pants floor, swim in cave lakes through several halls.
Deep down, we sit down. "Lights off," says Platel, "and do not talk." Two minutes of darkness, disorientation, silence. From time to time you hear a drop in the water. Then nothing. "There are always people who cry when it is so quiet," says Platel. We, too, have become quieter when we leave the cave and start the return journey.
Swim to the wall, roping, climb the cliff, hike back. "The jump and the dark silence," says Jonas, would have impressed him the most, "the silence actually more than the jump," he adds. Platel grins. Goal achieved.