A narrow gauge railway of Edwardian vintage takes an hour to travel, literally, through the Tramuntana mountains, brooding for all the world like a stage set from The Sound of Music, via tunnels and gorges to the pretty town of Soller.

Along the way the solid mahogany carriages rattle and sway on their narrow gauge track for an hour until they reach a little station which here would be known as a wayside halt. The train takes a short rest while passengers are encouraged to stretch their legs and take a few photos.

Soller itself is pretty with its little Placa where there are some cafes and a church, I think it’s Saint Bartholomew’s, but we cannot find Saint Anthony anywhere inside to give him a few Euros.

Beautiful limes give a coolness of shade in the square to anyone who wants to sit and do nothing. A tiny toast-rack tram trundles through the square every thirty minutes, full of its own self-importance, and takes passengers down to the port. Essentially this was originally for moving oranges and lemons down to the coast, but now shifts crates of tourists instead.

Timetables of departures and arrivals may be printed on pretty coloured brochures, but when it comes to what time the train leaves to go back? Jump on the nearest one no matter what time it leaves. It doesn’t go anywhere else except Palma.

Palma station

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