10 Best Beaches in Mallorca

Mallorca has 262 beaches. I’ve not been to all of them, nobody sensible has, but over several trips I’ve ticked off enough to have firm opinions and a lingering grudge against at least three car parks. But when you find the best beaches in Mallorca, you’ll be in heaven.

Here’s the thing I wish someone had told me before my first visit: the prettiest coves on this island punish you before they reward you.

Dirt paths.

“Parking” that turns out to be a dusty verge.

Alarm clocks set for times that feel just a bit too early on holiday.

So that’s how I’ve scored this list, effort versus reward. Some beaches ask nothing of you and hand you everything. Others make you sweat for it. And a couple have been so thoroughly mangled by Instagram that I nearly left them out altogether (I didn’t, but you’ll see my reasoning when we get there).

The practical bit before we start: flights from most UK airports take around 2 hours 20 minutes, and you’ll want a hire car for the good stuff. The buses are fine for the resort towns. They are not fine for a cove at the end of a farm track.

1. Cala Llombards

We arrived at Cala Llombards just after 8am, parked in the free car park right by the beach, and felt quietly pleased with ourselves. By half eleven it was towels in rows, and people flicking sand as they walk past us, to get to the ever more crowded sea. That’s the shape of a day here, so plan around it.

Go early and it’s glorious. White sand, sheltered turquoise water, little fishermen’s huts along one side, and ledges for cliff-jumping with an actual ladder to climb back out, which the teenagers made far better use of than I did. It also has facilities. A beach bar, loos, a lifeguard. Rarer than you’d think on this stretch of coast.

My gripes: sunbeds were €15, and the bar charged €3.50 for a small bottle of water, which stung. Jellyfish also drifted in one morning and cleared the shallows in about four minutes flat, even though we looked them up and they were harmless.

One tip worth having, there’s a walkway along the cliffs that gets you past the shoreline scrum and into clear, deep water. If the main car park’s full, there’s overflow parking up in the village. Just don’t touch the yellow lines. The fines are real, and I watched them being issued.

When we stayed in nearby Santanyi, this was the beach we kept coming back to, again and again.

Effort: low. Reward: high. If you’re early.

2. Caló des Moro

The one I nearly didn’t include.

The way down is a 15-minute rocky scramble, and when I arrived at 10am there was barely a towel’s width of sand left to claim. This is possibly the most beautiful water on the island, that almost artificial turquoise you assume has been edited until you’re actually standing in it, and also the least relaxing beach day I’ve had in Spain. It’s a swim-and-photo stop, not a lounging beach. Accept that before you set off and you’ll leave happy. Expect a lazy day on the sand and you’ll leave furious.

There are no facilities whatsoever. Wear shoes with grip rather than flip-flops, I watched a man in sliders complete the descent mostly on his bottom. And the parking situation became such a mess that there’s now an hourly shuttle from Santanyí for around €2–4, which is honestly the best option in summer.

One last thing: leave the umbrella in the car. There’s nowhere to put it.

3. Cala s’Almunia

Five minutes’ walk from the Caló des Moro path, and my preferred half of the double bill.

While the crowds queued next door, I spent a very happy hour cliff-jumping here. It’s rocky platforms rather than sand, so nobody’s building castles, but the snorkelling around the old boat huts is lovely and the water is the same ridiculous colour as its famous neighbour, minus half the audience.

It shares a car park with Caló des Moro, so the same early start applies. Do both in one morning, swim at one, jump at the other, and you’ll feel like you’ve beaten the system.

4. Cala Mitjana, Felanitx

First, a clarification: this is the east-coast Cala Mitjana near Cala d’Or, not the Menorcan beach of the same name. I mention this because I once got as far as plotting a route to the wrong island’s beach before noticing the ferry crossing in the directions. Don’t judge me.

The effort here is real.

You park at Cala Sa Nau, then walk around 20 minutes along a dirt path through what is essentially one very wealthy man’s estate, finishing with stone steps down to the water.

The reward is a 20-metre pocket of sand with glassy, shallow water and, on a weekday, even in August, barely anyone on it. In fact, the first time I visited I had the whole beach to myself until 9.30am – check out my video below where I also share another parking spot and show you the whole journey.

There is nothing here. No bar, no loos, no shade worth the name (at least not unless you arrive very early or quite a bit later on). Carry everything in, carry everything out, and freeze your water bottles the night before because you’ll want them.

This is my smug beach. The one you mention casually, later, to people who spent the same afternoon melting shoulder-to-shoulder at Cala d’Or – and it’s literally the next cala along to the busier Cala Serena.

Here’s that video showing my first trip to Cala Mitjana:

5. Cala Serena

I found Cala Serena by accident, wandering down the pedestrian lane past the Robinson resort and feeling faintly like I was trespassing on hotel turf. I wasn’t, it’s public, but I suspect that feeling keeps the numbers down, and long may it continue.

It’s the quiet end of Cala d’Or: 40-odd metres of sand hemmed in by low, pine-covered cliffs, with stone steps cut into the rocky flanks where people slip into the water like seals. There’s a small beach bar but no sunbeds or lifeguard, and that’s precisely why it stays noticeably calmer than neighbouring Cala Ferrera, which has all three and the crowds to match. The snorkelling along the rocks is a quiet treat.

Free parking sits about 400 metres away and then it’s steps down to the beach. When you get hungry, Cala d’Or’s restaurants are only a short stroll away.

Minimal effort, quietly excellent reward.

The outlier on this list, and possibly my favourite lazy day on the island. You can also go to this one in the afternoon with no problem parking so its a great one for when you don’t want to set your alarm.

6. Es Trenc

Everyone compares Es Trenc to the Caribbean, and I arrived ready to roll my eyes at that. Then I walked in from the Ses Covetes end, saw more than two kilometres of white sand and shallow turquoise backed by dunes and salt flats, and shut up. There were even flamingos in the salt pans on the drive in.

For a bit of context, it’s one of more than 20 Blue Flag beaches on the island, out of Mallorca’s 260-odd, and you can see the difference in water quality the moment you wade in.

The catch: the chiringuitos have been stripped off the beach entirely, so bring your own food, water and shade, because there is none. In August the paid parking (roughly €6–8) fills by late morning, and the walk in from the overflow spots is a hot, shadeless one.

Worth it. Just come prepared, or come in June.

7. Cala Varques

Peak effort. You park on the road verge, the police now fine anything cheekier, slip through the access point, then walk 1.5 to 2 kilometres through the woods. Trainers, not flip-flops. The second half of that walk had me questioning every life choice that had led me there.

Then the trees opened onto an amphitheatre of dark rock, and the warmest water of my entire trip. Genuinely bath-like, even by late morning.

What you’ll find at the bottom varies by the day: sometimes a makeshift bar, a chap selling cold drinks and baguettes from a cool box, cliff jumps at several heights, caves to poke around, occasional nudists, and free climbers inching along the rock face above the water.

Maximum effort, maximum reward.

8. Cala Mondragó and S’Amarador

After Cala Varques, I needed a recovery day. This was it.

Two linked beaches inside a natural park, joined by a boardwalk over the rocks, with calm, shallow water and facilities that actually function. It’s the sensible family pick on this list, and I mean that as a compliment, sometimes you want a loo and a bocadillo within 50 metres of your towel, and there’s no shame in it.

The S’Amarador side is bigger, backed by pines, and marginally quieter. Park at the natural park car park for a small fee and flip a coin between the two, or walk the boardwalk and do both, which is what everyone ends up doing anyway.

9. Cala Agulla

Up in the northeast near Cala Ratjada, Cala Agulla sits inside a protected natural area where building isn’t allowed, so what you get is pine forest and dunes behind white sand, rather than a wall of hotels. It changes the whole feel of the place.

The crowd is livelier here, more locals and Spanish mainlanders than the south-east coves. Last time I went I spent an hour people-watching before walking over the headland, which I’d recommend for the views alone.

Parking is paid, or it’s about a 20-minute walk from Cala Ratjada. One thing to know: it gets breezy. On a still 34°C afternoon that breeze is a gift from above. When the wind picks up, it’s sand in your sandwiches and a parasol chase down the beach.

10. Platja de Formentor

The glamorous finish. A narrow ribbon of sand under pines on the Formentor peninsula, with mountains rising straight out of the bay behind it, it doesn’t look quite real, even while you’re standing on it.

The drive out is half the event: hairpins, viewpoints (the Mirador stop is non-negotiable), and my passengers going completely quiet in the good way. The grand hotel behind the beach opened in 1929 and hosted Charlie Chaplin and Audrey Hepburn in its heyday; it’s a Four Seasons now, which tells you the direction of travel out here.

In summer the peninsula road has access restrictions, so go early, take the boat across from Port de Pollença, or use the bus. The boat, for what it’s worth, is the loveliest way to arrive anywhere on this island.

Before You Go: The Boring-but-Useful Bit

A few things I’d want in your back pocket before you book anything:

• A hire car is essential for the south-east calas. The buses exist; your patience may not.
• Arrive before 9:30am anywhere in July or August, or accept your fate with grace.
• Water shoes earn their keep on the rockier coves – Cala s’Almunia and Cala Varques especially.
• Carry cash for beach bars and the roadside fruit sellers, who are a highlight in themselves.
• High summer runs to 30°C and beyond. May, June and September are the sweet spot – warm sea, thinner crowds, kinder parking.
• Where sunbed-and-parasol sets exist, budget €15–25 a day (around £13–21).

Ready to Pick Your Cala?

Match the beach to your energy levels, not the other way round. Cala Serena for a lazy day. Cala Mondragó with kids in tow. Cala Varques when you want an adventure.

If I’ve learned anything from this island, it’s that Mallorca rewards the early riser more generously than almost anywhere I’ve been. The person on the sand at 8:45am gets a private paradise. The person arriving at noon gets a car park queue and a stranger’s towel touching theirs.