Off-season, Ibiza reverts to its beguiling, unhurried self and its history and culture resurface, says the novelist, who has been visiting since childhood and set one of his books on the island
It takes two hours to reach the Lost City. My guide, Toby Clarke from Walking Ibiza, leads me down a road that dwindles into barely perceptible paths rising and falling through the forest. Toby’s dog, Cosmo, runs off on long diversions, a flickering presence in the sea mist that drifts through the trees around us. Finally, we reach the remains of a long stone wall. It protects a thumb-shaped peninsula that rides out on white-chalked cliffs into the flat, tideless Mediterranean. Behind the wall are the flattened ruins of the Lost City. Many believe this was the last stand of the Moors, who ran the island as an Islamic caliphate for three centuries.