Ibiza for The Thrill Seekers: a Friday-to-Monday weekend

Swim out to the little island of Illa des Bosc from the second beach; the water is the clearest on the west coast and the current slight.

The cliff-edge bar where the island applauds the sun going down; a drink on the rocks below the terrace costs nothing but the climb back.

Island lamb, sobrassada and a Mediterranean kitchen run by the Bonet family since 1985, in a garden two streets from the sunset strip.

The island's high point at 475 metres, forty minutes up a pine track from the village church; Formentera and, on clear mornings, Mallorca.

A steep scramble down to the hidden quarry that cut stone for Dalt Vila, now carved pools, a chiselled Buddha and a swim; take water.

Sofrit pagès, the farm stew of lamb, chicken and sausage, is the recovery meal; the family has cooked it in this house since 1980.

The largest wreck in the Mediterranean sank off the harbour mouth in 2007 and lies at thirty metres; two tanks, certified divers only.

A rocky north-coast cove with the island's best snorkelling along the eastern wall, and a ledge the locals jump from; bring shoes for the stones.

Charcoal-grilled beef and lamb in a village grill house that has fed the island for forty years; share the parrillada and sleep well.

The long beach empty, the water flat, and Formentera on the horizon; swim the length of it before the first sunbed is unfolded.

Follow the dunes south past Es Cavallet to the round watchtower at the island's tip; thirty minutes each way through juniper.

A beach restaurant on ses Salines, grilled fish and a last swim before the flight; the airport is a twenty-minute taxi from the car park.