Away from all the partying in Ibiza (From York Press)

Away from all the partying in Ibiza

11:36am Saturday 20th June 2009 in

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I AM bruised, tired and aching and it is still only 10am. While perhaps not the only Briton waking up on Spain’s party island of Ibiza in such a state, I do at least have a good excuse.

You see, while most of the English tourists were sleeping off a hard night of dancing at the island’s Café del Mar, we were mountain biking through the lush Spanish countryside, drinking in the culture and stopping to munch wild apricots.

Cycling is not the most obvious choice of activity in Ibiza, which is known for its clubs and pubs rather than its flora, fauna and history. But Ibiza wants to bolster its reputation and showing off its spas and countryside is one way to do it.

Our adventure began after a breakfast of fresh bread, tomatoes, meats, cheeses and pastries under the roof of knotted juniper trunks at our converted farmhouse hotel, Can Lluc, near Sant Rafael.

After an unsteady ten minutes getting used to pedalling, we set off through the morning sun along woodland tracks, climbing roads ripe with apricots, figs and lemons, poppies and wild flowers.

We stopped at the small village of Santa Gertrudis de Frutera, to see Bar Costa, an interesting café/bar packed from roof to rafters with paintings acquired under a ‘food for paintings’ pact between the owner and local artists.

Slapping on the sunscreen, it is a few more kilometres cycling to Can Cires, a white-washed restaurant off the beaten track, along the almond and olive tree-lined roads of San Mateo.

The friendly owner passed baskets of fresh aoli – made with only garlic and oil – sweet olives, bread, salad and squid fried with onions, garlic, peppers and chips and traditional Ibizan dish, crostas con tomato – crunchy bread flavoured with tomatoes, olive oil and salt.

We ate graixonera, a Spanish dessert similar to bread and butter pudding, and finished with café caleta – coffee, cognac, rum, sugar, lemon or orange rind and cinnamon, heated in a ceramic pot and ladled into glasses So far, not a nightclub in sight, bar the odd billboard for foam parties, a reminder of where you are.

Leaving the bikes behind, our next stop was the charming old town.

Declared a World Heritage site by UNESCO in 1999, the fortress of Dalt Villa and the Renaissance Walls are testament to Ibiza’s rich history, marked by years of Carthaginian, Roman, Byzantine, Vandal and Moorish rule.

Dominique, our guide, arrived on the island 26 years ago “to see what all the fuss was about”. She was an animated guide, and showed us around the ancient walls, stopping by views of crystal clear waters and jagged rocks to breathe in the fresh, salty air.

We peered in whitewashed churches and strolled down cobbled slopes, pushing open the heavy wooden door of Sant Cristofol convent.

The nine nuns who live there pray continuously and never leave the building, although a piece of paper taped to the door advertises the red pepper pizzas and small cakes they sell from a window upstairs.

In the distance, winding streets and sun terraces strewn with satellite dishes and ceramic pots, a bastion dotted with canons and a marina filled with yachts give way to clubs such as Privilege and Pacha.

Lower down, market vendors sell melons, oranges and tomatoes, pink lilies, orchids and sandwiches.

Of course, it would be unfair not to mention the beaches.

Ibiza is just 50 km long and has 18 kilometres of natural beaches, so you can be from bastion to beach in minutes.

Cala Jondal is one of the most exclusive, and hosts Yemanja, an open-air restaurant where paellas tossed with crunchy sea spider, prawns, mussels, squid and wedges of lemon are eaten from beachside tables and reclining chairs, chill-out tunes pulsing in the background.

Pretty beaches are ten a penny in Ibiza, including Can Bassa, where an old hippie living in the caves regularly appears to wave at boat trips.

Inland, there is plenty to enjoy too. Grants from the Spanish Government have helped to rejuvenate tired farmhouses into boutique hotels.

One such place is Atzaró, in Sant Joan, where the air is sweet with orange blossom, fountains trickle in the background and ceramic Buddhas offer armfuls of oranges by cool swimming pools that are bordered by small ponds of water lilies, fishes and frogs.

Instead of reclining on outdoor beds under branches weighted with lanterns, we sat cross-legged on the decking beneath the orange groves for a yoga class, before a supper of salmon fishcakes, tender steak and chocolate fondant.

The Spanish, in case you had not guessed, love to eat. They have a siesta to sleep it all off; we don’t, so arrived at Hacienda Na Xamena full and sleepy.

Favoured by the rich and famous, the five-star Hacienda Na Xamena’s secret weapon is its La Posidonia Thalassotherapy treatment, or “la cascadas”.

We worked our way around the eight outdoor pools and waterfalls which cling to the cliff and admired the sun sinking beneath the skyline while therapeutic jets and cascades fired heated water at our aches and pains before – yes you’ve guessed it – eating again.

Fact file

• Charlotte stayed in Can Lluc, near Sant Rafael, canlluc.com

• She also visited:

Atzaró, Sant Joan, atzaro.com

Hacienda Na Xamena, hotelhacienda-ibiza.com

• Yemanja restaurant, Cala Jondal beach, yemanjaibiza.com

• Can Cires, Sant Mateu, cancires.com

• For more information, visit ibiza.travel