MALLORCA Ultimate Travel Guide 2025 – All Towns & Beaches | Spain
Mallorca is the most popular travel destination
in Spain. It’s the largest of the Balearic Islands and has been pulling tourists in since the
1960s. And yet, it’s still possible to have a good time. A great time, actually. If you know
where you’re going. And why. Mallorca sits in the western Mediterranean, around 180 kilometers off
the east coast of mainland Spain. It’s a compact landmass of about 100 km across. The northwest is
dominated by the Serra de Tramuntana, a mountain range running nearly the length of the island.
The central plains are rural and agricultural, with quiet villages and olive groves. The
coasts range from overbuilt to untouched, depending on which direction you’re driving. The capital, Palma, is the island’s only real city
and home to about half the permanent population. Speaking of Palma – you have to fly in there.
Palma de Mallorca Airport is one of the busiest in Europe during summer. Flights are cheap
if you book early and brutal if you don’t. There are also ferries from Barcelona or Valencia.
But unless you’re bringing a car or fear flying, just take the plane. Once you land, you should
rent a car. Unless you’re staying in Palma the whole time, you’ll need wheels. Public transport
works but it doesn’t love you. The buses are slow, trains are limited, and taxis will eat your
budget alive. The local language is Catalan, specifically a dialect called Mallorquí.
Spanish is spoken everywhere, of course. English in most places too. Tourism accounts for
over 40% of Mallorca’s GDP, and beach tourism still rules the numbers. The island lives on a
rhythm. High season is June through September, with August as the absolute peak. During this
period, beaches are packed, hotel rates skyrocket, and restaurant reservations become
necessary in the more popular towns. Palma is set on the southwestern coast of
Mallorca, built around a broad natural bay that’s protected by headlands and hills. It
faces the sea with its cathedral and harbor, and stretches back inland with dense
neighborhoods, markets, and stone alleys. The city is surrounded by the Serra
de Tramuntana to the north, and low, rolling plains to the east. It has space, wind,
and serious light. The sea defines one edge. The rest is built up in stone and sun. Palma is old.
Founded by the Romans, expanded by the Moors, conquered by the Crown of Aragon, and reshaped
again and again. It’s been ruled, rebuilt, besieged, and absorbed into multiple layers of
Mediterranean history. You feel that in the city’s layout – tight alleys, long boulevards,
sudden shifts from palaces to apartments. You also feel it in the architecture. The
Gothic cathedral of La Seu, facing the sea with high vaults and Catalan pride, defines the
skyline. Behind it, the Palau de l’Almudaina, a royal palace that was once a Muslim fortress,
still flies the Spanish flag. Nearby, 19th-century mansions stand beside brutalist concrete
slabs from the post-Franco construction boom. The city didn’t wait for tourism to
define it. But tourism did reshape it, starting in the 1960s, when Mallorca became a
sun-and-sand playground for northern Europeans. Hotels went up. Flights multiplied. Tour
companies locked in their deals. Palma, with its airport and port, became the nerve
center of one of the most profitable mass-tourism economies in Europe. Today, the city receives
around 2 million overnight tourists per year, and over 1.5 million cruise passengers dock here
annually. Add in day-trippers, second-home owners, and part-time digital migrants, and
you begin to understand the scale. Palma is divided between its historic center,
its newer residential zones, and the wider sprawl that creeps toward the airport and the
highway ring. Most visitors stay near the core: the Casco Antiguo, Santa Catalina, and the coastal
neighborhoods between the cathedral and Portixol. The Casco Antiguo, or old town, is the
main draw: a dense tangle of alleys, plazas, and stone buildings. It’s still
lived-in, but only barely. The housing stock has been chipped away by short-term
rentals and speculative investment. Still, it holds architectural depth – 15th-century
palaces, quiet convents, Baroque churches, and former merchant homes with interior patios
and iron balconies. Many have been restored, some are still peeling, and all are expensive.
Up the hills to the north is Castell de Bellver, a rare circular castle with views over the
whole city. What makes Bellver truly unique is its circular design, which is extremely rare
in European castle architecture. Built in the early 1300s for King James II of Mallorca, the
building has a central courtyard surrounded by a circular wall and four towers – one of
them detached and connected by a bridge. The castle’s design combines elements of Gothic
style with the practical needs of a fortress. Before we continue, please hit the
like button to help our channel grow. Magaluf is Mallorca’s most infamous resort.
Not the prettiest. Not the oldest. Not the most refined. But for better or worse, it’s the
place that shaped what beach tourism looks like. It sits on the island’s southwest coast, about
15 kilometers from Palma, sandwiched between other purpose-built resorts like Palmanova and
Torrenova. Magaluf wasn’t built to connect with Mallorca. It was built to serve people who wanted
sun, drinks, English menus, and anonymity. And it does that – without flinching, without shame,
without even blinking. The geography is plain: a broad bay, a long beach, a flat stretch of land
behind it. What you see now is a grid of mid-rise hotels, nightclubs, fast food outlets, and
sunbed-lined beachfront. There’s no old town. No architectural layers. It was all built after the
1960s, when Franco’s government opened Spain to mass European tourism. Hotels were built fast and
flights got cheap. And by the 1980s, Magaluf had a brand: cheap, British, full-on. It became a magnet
for budget holidaymakers, mainly from the UK, looking for sea and sun. By the 2000s, it was
infamous. Fights, drinking, balcony accidents, news stories, reality TV. But while the rest of
Mallorca tried to pivot toward upscale tourism, Magaluf doubled down. Until recently. The town is
still wild, but it’s not out of control anymore. Local government and private investors have spent
the last decade trying to clean it up. Some of the worst bars are gone. Some of the party boats are
banned. Public drinking is restricted. Nightclub zones are now under surveillance. Magaluf Beach is
wide, golden, and swimmable, with calm water and all kinds of water sports. The sand is soft, and
the views are decent. You can swim here all day and forget what surrounds you. The beachfront
is pretty clean, with real sand, lifeguards, and boardwalks. Off-season, the town is quiet.
You can walk for an hour without hearing English. Most people come to Mallorca for the beaches.
But what they remember, if they go far enough, is the mountains. The Serra de Tramuntana runs
along the entire northwest edge of the island, a wall of rock, forest, and terraced stone
that stretches for about 90 kilometers from Andratx in the southwest to Pollença in the
northeast. It’s not the Alps. It’s not the Pyrenees. But it doesn’t need to be. This range
defines the geography, weather, agriculture, and architecture of the island – and without
it, Mallorca wouldn’t feel like Mallorca. The Tramuntana doesn’t just offer scenic backdrops.
It holds water, makes wind, blocks storms, filters sunlight, and shapes every village
that sits along its slopes. This is where the island keeps its memory, and its hard ground. The
Serra de Tramuntana is a limestone mountain range formed by the same tectonic forces that built the
Baetic System across southern Spain. Over time, water cut through the stone, forming gorges,
caves, cliffs, and canyons. The rock is porous, the land fractured. It looks dry, but underground,
the range stores much of the island’s freshwater. Its highest point is Puig Major, at 1,445 meters,
the tallest mountain in the Balearics. You can’t summit it because it’s a military zone, but
you can hike almost everything around it. And when you do, you’ll see how steep this
range really is. The Tramuntana has never been easy land. People didn’t come here to
relax. They came to survive. For centuries, the range was settled by farmers, monks, and
stonemasons who carved flat ground into the hills by building kilometers of dry-stone terraces. No
mortar, just stone on stone. They grew olives, almonds, figs, citrus, and raised goats. They
built cisterns, canals, and paths into rock so they could hold rain, move water, and
trade what little they had. This system, known as the Mallorcan dry stone technique,
was so extensive and so effective that in 2011, UNESCO declared the entire Serra de Tramuntana
a World Heritage Site for cultural landscape. Valldemossa is located about 17 km north of
Palma, on a winding road that cuts into the Serra de Tramuntana. It sits at 400 meters above sea
level, just low enough to escape alpine harshness, just high enough to be cooler and quieter than
the coast. The landscape around it is layered: terraced olive groves, dry stone walls, limestone
ridges, and sudden glimpses of the sea to the west. Pines and oaks grow close to the road.
You smell earth, stone, and herbs, especially after rain. This place was chosen for defense and
isolation. And while it no longer feels remote, the layout still reflects its medieval logic: no
straight lines, no wide squares, no extra space. The name “Valldemossa” comes from the Arabic
“Wadi Musa”, or Valley of Moses. After the Christian reconquest, it remained a rural village
for centuries: poor, devout, tucked away in the hills. Its main historical claim is the Real
Cartuja de Valldemossa, a Carthusian monastery originally built as a royal residence in the 14th
century, later converted into a monastic complex. In the 19th century, the monastery was secularized
and divided into private apartments. In 1838, two of its most famous short-term residents moved
in: the Polish composer Frédéric Chopin and the French writer George Sand. They came to escape the
Paris winter. They got cold rain, leaky ceilings, and local suspicion instead. Sand wrote about it
in “A Winter in Majorca” – a slim but sharp book that criticized the locals for being closed, the
climate for being misleading, and the monastery for being damp and inhospitable. It was not a love
letter. That winter didn’t change Valldemossa, but over time, the legend around it helped
build the town’s modern tourist economy. Today, Valldemossa has around 2,000 permanent residents,
many of whom live in the lower parts of town, away from the tourist-packed upper center.
You walk here, that’s the main thing. The town isn’t about activities or attractions. It’s
about movement through space. Valldemossa gets well over a million visitors per year, which
is a lot for a village this small. Some come for an hour. Others stay for a few days. A
few wealthy foreign residents stay all year. The result is a village that feels, at times,
like a set piece. Valldemossa is beautiful. That part’s true. But it’s also crowded, expensive,
and sometimes too aware of its own beauty. Es Trenc is located on the southern coast of
Mallorca, in the municipality of Campos, between the resort town of Colònia de Sant Jordi and the
inland village of Ses Salines. It faces directly south, looking out at the open Mediterranean. The
beach itself is long, flat, and nearly straight. The sand is fine, white, and soft, unlike
the coarse gravel of many northern coves. The water is shallow and absurdly turquoise,
especially under high sun. For many, it’s the closest Mallorca gets to the Caribbean, at least
visually. Behind the beach are dunes, pine groves, and a wide stretch of salt flats, still active and
historically important. To the west is Platja de Ses Covetes, which is smaller and quieter. To the
east, the coast curves into small rocky headlands and marshland. The moment you step onto Es Trenc,
everything feels a bit farther away. There are no cliffs and no buildings. No shade unless you bring
it. Just a vast, horizontal openness that’s hard to find on the rest of the island. The sand goes
on. The water stays knee-deep for a long time. In peak season, you’ll need to park in one of several
large lots outside the beach area and walk in. You can’t park on the dunes or leave your vehicle on
the sand. A shuttle sometimes runs from Campos or Colònia, depending on the season. The walk
is sandy, exposed, and hot in summer. Es Trenc gets crowded, especially in July and August.
And especially on weekends. The parking lots fill. The path to the beach becomes a trail of
coolers and umbrellas. Es Trenc wasn’t always protected. In the 1970s and 80s, there were plans
to build it up – hotels, roads, golf courses. The development pressure was enormous. But resistance
was strong. Environmental groups, local farmers, and ordinary residents fought to preserve it.
They understood what was at stake. After years of court battles and public campaigns, Es Trenc
was declared part of a protected natural park. Cala d’Or is a network of coves and villas on
Mallorca’s southeast coast. It’s not wild or spontaneous. It’s organized, planned, and
tourist-ready. But it also feels strangely calm. And for many people – especially families
– it hits a balance between ease, access, and scenery that’s hard to beat. It’s not romantic,
but it’s livable. Cala d’Or sits on the southeast coast of Mallorca, about 60 km from Palma, in the
municipality of Santanyí. The permanent population is around 4,000, the summer population, easily
5 to 6 times that. It was founded in the 1930s by a Catalan artist and architect, Josep Costa
Ferrer, who wanted to create a Mediterranean resort based on the low white architecture of
Ibiza. And that’s what he did – white cubes, flat roofs, uniform lines. A little Bauhaus,
a little Balearic, a lot of whitewash. That natural geography is what shaped the town. Cala
d’Or isn’t one beach. It’s five main calas and a few smaller ones, strung together by roads,
walkways, and low-slung buildings. The entire town is built on a slightly elevated plateau
above the sea. That makes it open, breezy, and easy to navigate. The water here is unusually
clear, even for Mallorca. Sheltered, shallow, with hardly a wave in sight. You wade in, float
for hours, let the afternoon pass. If you want something more rugged, you can find it nearby.
Just 10 minutes south is Mondragó Natural Park, where the cliffs are higher, the water wilder,
and the walking trails run past untouched coves. Deià sits on the northwest coast of Mallorca,
between Valldemossa and Sóller. It’s in the mountains, but close enough to the sea that you
can walk down in half an hour. For centuries, this was a poor place: dry, difficult land,
isolated by mountains, sustained by olives, goats, and rainwater. The turning point
in Deià’s modern story is one name: Robert Graves. He came here in the 1920s. He
stayed, wrote, and other people followed. Writers, artists, expats, dropouts. Some were looking for
isolation, others for a place to think clearly. Many never really left. In the second half
of the 20th century, that scene evolved. Deià became a magnet for anyone creative, burned out,
or rich enough to disappear. Musicians, actors, producers, photographers, novelists. Most of them
didn’t advertise it. That was part of the draw. You could live here, quietly, and still be part
of something. But with attention comes money, and with money comes pressure. Real estate
exploded. Traditional homes became seasonal retreats. Some locals sold, others held
on. Today, Deià walks a tight line between village and brand. You can walk through
it in fifteen minutes. The main road, MA-10, cuts across the middle, steep and
slow. On one side are shops, small hotels, and restaurants. Some are overpriced. A few are
exceptional. On the other side are narrow lanes, stone stairs and flower pots. At the top
is Sant Joan Baptista, the church. Behind it is the cemetery where Robert Graves is
buried, under a rough stone with no epitaph. Port de Sóller is shaped like a half-moon,
sitting between two rocky promontories, with the Tramuntana mountains rising like a wall
behind it. This is one of the few natural harbors on Mallorca’s rugged northwest coast. For a long
time, it was simply that: a port, nothing more. The inland town of Sóller, a few kilometers away,
was rich with citrus and olive oil, but it needed a way out. The mountains blocked roads. So
the produce came down in carts or by foot, and left by ship. The return trip brought in
coffee and textiles, from France, mostly, where many Sóllerics had emigrated. They made their
fortunes, and returned with new ways of thinking and building. That’s why Sóller and its port feel
different from other Mallorcan towns. There’s a trace of outwardness here. A sense of having
looked beyond the island and then come back. The tram that now connects Port de Sóller with the
town inland – charming, wooden, and bright – is more than a photo opportunity. It’s the last echo
of the old lifeline. And when it creaks past you, with its brass fittings and slow wheels, you can
feel that it once mattered. Not for tourists, but for oranges. On one end, the Faro de Cap Gros
lighthouse guards the entrance. On the other, the old military batteries and pine trees frame
the sea. The town itself is split into two halves: the fishing side Sa Punta, which is still quieter,
more local, more lived-in – and the tourist side Es Través, where hotels and apartments climb
the slope behind the beach. The town itself is modest. A thin layer of hotels and apartments
behind the beach, a row of shops and restaurants along the promenade, a marina with tidy masts at
the far end. But unlike other Mallorcan resorts, Port de Sóller doesn’t sell a fantasy. There’s
no imitation of old villages. No recreated charm. What’s here grew out of use, not decoration.
Port de Sóller attracts people who want to be near the water, but not owned by it. You’ll
mostly meet older couples on slow holidays, families with sand-covered backpacks and no plans,
and hikers descending from Deià or Fornalutx. At the northernmost tip of Mallorca, a narrow
strip of limestone fights the sea until it can’t anymore. The roads thin, the trees
bow, and finally the cliffs drop straight into the Mediterranean. Cap de Formentor
belongs to the municipality of Pollença, but it feels like a place apart. It’s located
at the tip of the Formentor Peninsula, a jagged finger of land that juts northeast from
the rest of the island into open water. The whole peninsula is part of the Serra de Tramuntana.
There is only one road to Cap de Formentor: the Ma-2210, a narrow, winding strip of tarmac
that starts just outside Port de Pollença and runs 18 kilometers along cliffs, ridgelines,
and pine forest to the very edge of the island. The road is famous, for good reason. It’s
one of the most scenic drives in Europe, but it’s not easy. Hairpin turns, steep drops,
cyclists, tour buses, goats. In high season, it gets crowded fast. Since 2018, car access
has been restricted during the summer months, to reduce traffic. Buses run instead, and the
road becomes a haven for walkers and cyclists. There’s talk of making the restrictions permanent,
or expanding them. And maybe that’s for the best. Some places are too fragile to become products.
You should take your time, and pull over when you can. There are lookouts. Mirador Es Colomer is
the most famous, and each one is worth the stop. At the very tip of the peninsula sits the
Faro de Formentor, a white lighthouse built in 1863. It stands 210 meters above sea level.
There’s nothing else there. Just the lighthouse, a car park, a tiny café, and a ledge where you
can stand and feel the earth fall away beneath you. On clear days, you can see Menorca. On
cloudy ones, you see only water and sky. You should go early in the morning or in the late
afternoon. In summer, the midday sun turns the road into a white-hot tunnel and the viewpoint
parking lots into battle zones. But in the first hours of the day, or in the golden hour before
sunset, you’ll see Cap de Formentor at its best. Alcúdia is two places at once. There’s Alcúdia
the town, hidden behind medieval stone walls in the northeast of Mallorca, where the streets
are narrow, the buildings old, and the past still fits the present. And then there’s Port d’Alcúdia,
just two kilometers down the road: beach hotels, marinas, families, bikes, beach bars, jet skis,
and fried calamari. You can walk between the two in 20 minutes, but they feel like they’re
on different timelines. One looks inward. The other stretches out to the sea. Together, they
make Alcúdia one of the most interesting travel destinations on the island. Alcúdia is located
in the northeastern corner of Mallorca, between the Bay of Pollença and the larger Bay of Alcúdia.
The land here is flat, ringed by low hills to the north and open farmland to the south. The coast
curves, forming wide beaches and natural harbors, which is exactly why humans have settled here for
over 2,000 years. The main town sits on a slight rise, just inland from the water, protected
by medieval walls and surrounded by orchards, fields, and modern villas. Port d’Alcúdia lines
the coast, built out over the 20th century into one of Mallorca’s biggest tourist zones. Together,
they form one municipality with about 20,000 permanent residents. The modern town grew up in
the medieval period. It was fortified in the 14th century by order of King James II, who understood
the threat of coastal pirates. The walls – stone, squared, and still fully walkable – still
enclose the heart of the town. Inside the walls, the town stayed small and quiet for centuries.
Agriculture and fishing drove the economy. That only changed in the second half of the 20th
century, when tourism arrived. Port d’Alcúdia is a different story. Here, the focus is the beach:
long, wide, white-sanded, and shallow – a stretch that runs almost 7 kilometers east. The beach is
the draw for families, swimmers, paddleboarders, and the all-inclusive resort crowd. The
water is calm, and the amenities are stacked. Just 7 kilometers northwest of Alcudia, you’ll
find the sleepy little town of Pollença. Most coastal towns on Mallorca look outward, toward the
water, the beach, the sun. Pollença looks inland. It’s a town built under mountains, not beside the
sea. A place that holds its weight in stone and shadow. Where the walls run thick, the streets run
crooked, and the rhythm is slow. The setting is serious. The Puig de Maria, a forested hill with
a 14th-century monastery, rises just above town. Behind that: cliffs, ravines, and the start of the
Tramuntana mountain range. The center of Pollença is made of sandy golden stone, low buildings,
and narrow lanes that twist and fold over one another. Dominating one end of the town is the
Església de Nostra Senyora dels Àngels, the main parish church. It’s heavy, tall and simple. On
the opposite edge of town rises the Calvari Steps: 365 stone steps leading to a small chapel and
one of the best views on the island. It’s not a tourist gimmick, it’s part of the town’s geometry.
Every walk through Pollença leads you up or down. Unlike the inland town of Pollença, which dates
back to the Middle Ages, Port de Pollença is a modern town. It was developed in the 19th and
20th centuries as a fishing harbor, and later, as a landing spot for Mallorcan and European
holidaymakers. In the early 20th century, it began attracting artists and intellectuals. The painter
Hermenegildo Anglada-Camarasa had a house here. So did Agatha Christie – briefly – who described
the place in her story “Problem at Pollensa Bay”, noting its mix of calm, water, and sun-bleached
quiet. In the 1960s and ’70s, the tourism boom hit. Hotels were built. Roads were widened.
Flights arrived. But Port de Pollença never went full high-rise. No mega resorts. No boardwalk
amusement parks. Just beachfront apartment blocks, hotels, villas, and slow traffic. It
has changed, but it hasn’t disappeared. Artà sits in the northeast of the island, backed
by the Llevant mountain range, the last foothills before the Mediterranean folds into flat farmland.
Its geography has always kept it slightly out of reach – from invasion, from overdevelopment,
and, until recently, from mass tourism. The town itself is a dense web of honey-colored
stone buildings, shaded alleys, green shutters, and quiet courtyards. The houses rise gently
with the slope, leading toward the Sant Salvador sanctuary that crowns the town’s hilltop. You can
see it from almost anywhere – walls circling the old monastery, standing watch over the tiled roofs
below. It’s not a castle, though it looks like one. It’s also not a church in the usual sense,
though one sits inside its walls. It’s a hybrid: part fortress, part religious retreat, and part
observation post, both ancient and enduring. Within the walls stands the Church of Sant
Salvador, a quiet, austere building with a baroque altarpiece, faded frescoes, and a single
nave filled with filtered light. The church isn’t elaborate, but it feels serious. It’s rooted
in local devotion, not built to impress. It was restored in the 19th century after periods of
neglect, and now it’s maintained with quiet pride. The entrance to the stairway sits just above
the town center, near the edge of the historic quarter. The climb isn’t difficult, but it
changes your pace. The steps are broad, not steep, and there’s room to pause. The town’s central main
street, Carrer Ciutat, has some really nice cafés, bakeries and art galleries. There’s no beach here.
No marina. And yet, Artà feels like a center of gravity. It’s solid, slow, and fully Mallorcan.
Some travelers drift in, but they’re not the main event. Artà’s weekly Tuesday market is still,
at its core, for the people who live here. Cala Millor sits on the east coast of Mallorca,
between the towns of Son Servera and Sant Llorenç des Cardassar, about 70 km from Palma.
The name means “Better Cove” – optimistic, even a little smug, but not far off the
mark. The beach is excellent: wide, sandy, flat, and nearly two kilometers long. The
water is shallow, clear, and calm on most days. Behind the beach is the Passeig Marítim,
a long pedestrian promenade that runs parallel to the sea, lined with palms, ice cream stands,
rental bikes, and hotel entrances. Behind that: a grid of streets filled with mid-rise apartment
blocks, restaurants, clinics, tour offices, and mini-golf courses. The town is compact, flat,
and built for movement, especially for families, the elderly, and sun-seekers who want ease
over exploration. Cala Millor has a permanent population of about 6,000, but in summer it
can swell to well over 35,000, as hotels fill and the beach reaches full capacity. And yet, it
handles the flow. This is a place designed for tourism at scale. You land here by car, taxi,
or transfer bus – and everything is ready. The streets are clean. The signs are in five
languages. The luggage wheels roll smoothly over flat sidewalks. You know exactly where you are:
at the edge of a system that was built to work. The beach is the town’s anchor. It’s big enough
to spread out, clean enough to stay all day, and backed by every convenience you could ask
for. It’s not hidden or wild. But it’s safe, soft, and reliable. And around that, you build
a day. At night, the lights come on. Street performers set up. Karaoke happens. You walk the
promenade and enjoy being part of the crowd. It’s light entertainment, gentle noise, and safe fun.
And for a lot of people, that’s the whole point. Did you ever travel to Mallorca? Let us
know in the comments. If you loved this video, hit the like button and
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Mallorca is the largest of Spain’s Balearic Islands, and one of the most visited travel destinations in Europe. This 2025 Mallorca travel guide breaks down all major towns, the best beaches, and how to plan your time without wasting days on bad routes. Mallorca gets 15 million tourists every year. The capital, Palma de Mallorca, is the island’s only real city and home to about half the permanent population. The northwest of Mallorca dominated by the Serra de Tramuntana, a huge mountain range. Other notable attractions of Mallorca are the villages of Deia, Valldemossa, and Arta. The most famous beach resorts are Magaluf, Cala d’Or, Cala Millor and the Es Trenc beach.
▬ Content of this video ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
0:00 – Intro
1:57 – Palma de Mallorca
5:27 – Magaluf
7:35 – Serra de Tramuntana
9:45 – Valldemossa
12:17 – Es Trenc
14:19 – Cala d’Or
15:57 – Deia
17:37 – Port de Soller
19:46 – Cap de Formentor
21:54 – Alcudia
24:01 – Pollenca
26:07 – Arta
28:00 – Cala Millor
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