Back at Hostal Dragonera for our final evening, we watch the familiar sunset behind Dragonera Island. The sky performs its nightly show of reds and oranges as we dine overlooking the sea. Some leave the table once more to capture the moment, though by now we know no photo quite captures the magic. It's not just the colours but the whole experience: the taste of Alioli, the sound of quiet conversation mixing with waves on the shore, the satisfaction of a week well walked.
The swim behind the hotel calls one last time, that miracle of sand making the rocky shore suddenly welcoming. As we float in the evening-warm water, the mountains glow in the last light. Tomorrow, we leave, but tonight we raise glasses of local wine, sharing stories of ancient paths and falcon sightings, of resilient olive trees and pirate watchtowers.
We've walked in the footsteps of centuries, and in doing so, made our own small mark on these timeless trails. Take time to stop and look, I always say, for you will have a different perspective around the next corner. This week has given us countless corners, countless perspectives. We leave knowing these paths will continue to carry footsteps long after ours have faded, that the olive trees will keep sending out branches, that the falcons will return next September. We've been privileged to join, however briefly, in the long conversation between humans and landscape that defines these ancient walking ways.