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of difficulty of the rides, and the lunches and dinners we would have afterward (perhaps the most important part). This inaugural day entailed getting set up on our bikes and departing from the hotel for a long ride to a winery. One guide rode with us, while the other trailed in a relief van. Our bikes were equipped with a GPS system that ticked off our kilometer progress and ensured we were headed in the right direction in case we lost sight of the rider in front of us or of the guide. (Although the guides circled back to check on us frequently, so there was never any real fear of getting lost). The almost 50-kilometer ride was broken up by a few stops in which the guides set up snacks—fresh fruit, nuts, M&Ms—and offered beverages like coconut water, and replenished our water with ice. The route took us down small roads with very little traffic. A coffee pit stop at a charming town some 10 miles shy of our destination was our final break before completing the day's ride at a Celler Tianna Negre, where we toured the grounds and enjoyed an al fresco lunch paired with the varietals made on-site. Day one and 30-some miles in the books, I was feeling triumphant, blissfully ignoring the fact there were three more days to go. A casual dinner in a quaint town square near our hotel was followed by everyone scurrying to bed, nervous about the discomfort and sore muscles the morning might bring. Waking up on day two didn't bring the soreness I had feared, a happy discovery as I outfitted myself in spandex before meeting our guides for a rundown on the day's agenda. Ernesto explained that day two would be similar mileage to the previous day, but the afternoon would bring a 2,000-foot-elevation-gain climb. Three miles, straight up. We were told that anyone who didn't want to attempt it was welcome to ride in the van, but we could decide that later. For the moment, we took off from the hotel for a long windy ride until we broke for a shot of espresso at an adorable café along the route and did our final mental prep for the much-discussed extended uphill. The guides—perhaps wisely—did not do the afternoon climb justice. It was far longer and steeper than they prepped us for. It was an unrelenting, arduous crawl for three straight miles. In retrospect, we realized that was a wise tactic. While at different paces, we all conquered it. Elated at our personal victories, we completed the day's ride at Port de Sóller, a picturesque seaside village on the west coast of Mallorca, thick with tourists, tiny shops and epic scenery. White wine and rosé flowed over a much- deserved lunch. Exhausted, we piled into the van to be transported back to the hotel where power naps and dips in the pool were had before we packed back into the van for what our guides promised to be a very special dinner. They were right. We pulled into a vineyard to find a lone table set up outside of an old, imposing stone building. The table was positioned to provide epic views of the vines and the sunset, which it did as we enjoyed dish after dish prepared by a private chef DuVine and our above-and-beyond guides commissioned to make a magical meal for us, leaving an opinionated group of alpha females speechless. The next day promised a similar elevation gain, but more gradual and slightly less mileage overall. Still feeling the high of our accomplishments of the day before, we were ready for whatever may come. And least we thought we were. The van transported us to our starting point and as it wound its way along a narrow mountain road, you could almost feel the trepidation growing within the van. The guides assured us there weren't too many cars on the road and the vehicles that did traverse the mountain pass would be respectful of bikers, but we felt skeptical. Were we experienced enough bikers for this? The van went silent as we collectively worried about the challenge before us. Once again, our guides pleasantly surprised us. The long, gradual climb took us at a perfect incline over several miles of gorgeous scenery. Day three seemed to invigorate all of us: We stayed close together, summiting the mountain pass without any real issue. The guides were right—the cars were few and far between and they were respectful of bikers. We made the long descent to Port d'Andratx, a fishing village on the southwestern tip of Mallorca popular with the Italian elite. A sun-soaked lunch of Spanish specialties—pane con tomate, croquettes, fresh fish, salads and calamari—rewarded us for another successful day completed. Knowing our trip was almost over, the guides outdid themselves on night three. Pulling a few favors, they got us a reservation at the beyond-words-spectacular Cap Rocat, a former military fortress-turned-hotel located in Palma's most secluded bay. It's the second time on this trip that the entire group was rendered speechless. We ate grilled fish and meat dishes at The Sea Club restaurant, each outdoor table offering an epic view of the water. Luck had it that it was the summer solstice, and we were spending the longest day of the year here. Our adventure concluded with a 35-kilometer (a little more than 20 miles) fun ride to the hotel where we spent our final night in Mallorca. There were no real hills on day four, so it was all laughs and smiles as we made the journey from the hotel that had been our home for the last several days to check into a new one. As we completed the final few miles of the trip, I couldn't believe I once thought 20 miles on a bike sounded like a lot. I realized I'd fallen in love with road biking and began to plot how I could continue to ride once back in LA. Our bags had been transferred to our new hotel where we were forced to bid our fearless guides goodbye, a sad task after having experienced so much together. Talk turned to doing it all again next year—same guides, new destination. Seeing Mallorca from the seat of a bike proved to be a truly unforgettable way to experience a beautiful place, and we all agreed we couldn't wait to do it again. Duvine.com BAL HARBOUR 185