Author Kathleen King shares her wild and windswept Formentera winters
The British-Venezuelan writer, journalist and documentary-maker heads to Ibiza's little sister island out of season for empty beaches, sun-soaked plazas and kitschy festive delights.
I’ve lived in Mallorca for almost ten years but my husband, the architect Tavis Wright, grew up on Formentera. I followed him there in 1997 when I was 18 and, if I quite fancied him before, the island cinched it for me! The water reminded me of the Caribbean blue of my upbringing in Venezuela. I have since spent weeks and months at a time on Formentera living with my now in-laws, Sue and Bill Wright, who emigrated there from Scotland in the 1960s. My daughter was born on the island, and although my husband and I originally lived in London, we settled Mallorca in 2013 because my husband wanted to give our kids the same Balearic freedom he was brought up with.
My first novel, El Internado, was released in autumn. It has taken me quite far from my Mediterranean home. It's a mystery thriller set in a boarding school in a castle on the South Welsh coast. My inspiration for the setting lies clearly in St. Donat’s Castle, the home of my alma mater, the United World College of the Atlantic, a school that recently hit the Spanish headlines when it was announced that Princess Leonor, heir to the throne of Spain, was to attend. It’s a gripping adventure through the grounds of this ancient castle, with mystery, legends and a touch of the old-school spy thriller thrown in. It’s fascinated ten-year-olds as well as seventy-year-olds, so it’s got broad appeal – perhaps the perfect book for winter break on my favourite island.
When Formentera’s rhythm slows down, the temperatures drop and the beach chairs have all been packed away, the island sighs with relief, returning to being the little corner of the Balearics that time forgot. For most people, Formentera in the winter is an oxymoron, as though the island might disappear in a puff of smoke when there are no Instagrammers to capture the bleached white sands, crystalline waters and ravishing sunset views of Es Vedrá. But I love Formentera in winter. I love the slower pace, fewer people, fewer shops and restaurants to choose from. It makes doing not very much at all so much easier. The real soul of the island seems to reveal itself once more, in all its simple, sparse natural beauty. I am reminded why my in-laws first rocked up here in 1967, backpacks on their shoulders, following a dream to a secret hidden paradise in the southernmost corner of the Balearics. It's in the depths of winter that I can still see a glimpse of what Formentera was like all those years ago. The windswept beaches are deserted, ideal for long walks and picnics. The sea is spine-tinglingly fresh, perfect for a bracing dip. With a northerly wind and the sun out, you can’t beat a swim on Playa Mitjorn. Weather dependent, the laidback Lucky Bar beach shack is open all winter for a piadina or a warming bowl of lentils, depending what they’ve made that day. Once the beach starts to feel a little too Hebridean, we tootle back into Sant Francesc for the winter mercat by the church, a sweet cluster of wooden huts under a canopy of twinkling lights for glühwein, cañas and delicious tapas from local restauranteurs with live music in the evenings for a bit of a lowkey tardeo.
My top breakfast spot is still the Hotel Es Mares, where the spa is open at the weekends. We crowd the sheltered outdoor terrace, my kids angling for hot chocolates but settling for delicious fresh smoothies and sharing generous plates of avocado toast, hiding the mini packets of fancy biscuits the staff sneak them. My mother-in-law and her friends gather here each day, swapping local gossip and news, books and complaints about their grownup kids. They are the remains of the sixties crew who propped up the bar at the now long-gone Bar Descanso run by Nancy and José.
One day is always dedicated to hiking the Cami de Sa Pujada, the old Roman path up to La Mola, followed by a long, leisurely lunch at Sa Figuera, the only restaurant open up there. Paella and ensalada payesa are a must. I saw the sunrise of the new millennium at La Mola lighthouse but my only memory is of how cold I felt. I blame my inappropriate clothing. This year new additions to the winter calendar are flea markets at Ses Roques on Sundays and Sa Pancha doing fun, family-friendly music and jam sessions at the weekends. For the more intrepid, the Escuela de Vela is open for rentals and classes. Kite surfing is massively taking off here as there’s always a windy beach within reach, as well as windsurfing and foiling. And Es Boixets, the riding school run by Vicenç (straight out of a Mediterranean Jilly Cooper), takes groups out on hacks to the beach all winter long. I love swapping my espadrilles for riding boots and my pareo for a cashmere throw and heading across to Formentera in winter. It’s the island that time forgot.
