He's building again: Crane on Cala rocks in Cala Egos — who protects our coast?

He's building again: Crane on Cala rocks in Cala Egos — who protects our coast?

Key question: Why is it possible for individuals to repeatedly occupy coastal space for private purposes — and what happens to the public good?

In the afternoon, when the heat eases and the clatter of market traders from Santanyí fades, you can hear the sea pounding against the rocks at Cala Egos and the distant rattle of an outboard motor. Between pines and stone walls, on a small, previously smooth rock shelf, something stands again that does not belong there: a hoisting device for a boat. This summer the Guardia Civil found a construction installed in exactly the same spot where concrete had been placed on the rocks in 2024 — almost two square meters, hard as an accusation.

The facts are clear: A 66-year-old northern European resident in the area had a platform and crane built two years ago to lower his inflatable boat directly from the rock edge into the water. At the time, the coastal authority initiated proceedings for a breach of the Coastal Law and demanded removal. The crane was dismantled on instruction. This year, however, the device reappeared, and once again criminal proceedings are pending.

The problem cannot be dismissed simply as one person's ego. It shows how fluid the boundary has become between private convenience and public space. The Ley de Costas regulates protection of the coastal zone, but practice reveals gaps: inspections are sporadic, administrative procedures are often slow-moving, and those with time and money can build interim solutions and buy time.

What is missing from the public debate? First, transparency: citizens rarely learn how often such cases are reported, investigated and sanctioned, as seen in Es Carbó between swimmers and anchor chains: Residents demand more controls. Second, visible enforcement: if a device can easily reappear after an order to remove it, the penalty feels like a paper sword. The perspective of neighbors is also underrepresented. Residents by the landing quietly say that the cove now sees more craftsmen, boats and constant comings and goings — a sense of the strip of coast being degraded that hardly appears in administrative files, a pattern reported in Trouble in Es Carbó: How many boats can the small bay handle?.

A scene from everyday life makes the point: an older fisherman who has been hauling his nets in the Cala for decades stops and shakes his head while tourists take photos of the cliffs. On the square next to the church in Santanyí shopkeepers debate over café con leche whether the coastal stretch will one day consist only of private yacht boarding points. The sound of the motor drowns out such conversations until the authorities show up again — and then disappear again. License-free rentals have provoked similar local alarm, as detailed in Trouble over license-free boat rentals: When Es Carbó becomes a racetrack.

Concrete solutions are possible and need not get stuck in endless law reforms. First: faster enforcement. When an order for removal is issued there should be a deadline after which the administration organizes the removal itself and charges the offender. Second: visible marking. Every approved construction on the coastal strip must be clearly marked and viewable online — so neighbors can immediately see whether something is legal. Third: regular, unannounced inspections combined with aerial surveillance in critical sections like small coves. Fourth: a public register of violations with clear sanctions — not only fines, but also bans on future permit applications. Fifth: stronger involvement of local councils. Santanyí town hall and local fishing associations must receive accelerated reporting channels and local patrols.

A pragmatic step would also be to review the balance of penalty versus benefit: if the private gain from an illegal installation is higher than the expected fine, the incentive to repeat remains. Fees and sanctions must be designed to be deterrent and to cover the costs of restoring the original state.

One often overlooked point to conclude: the coast is not just landscape, it is memory and livelihood — for fishers, for children who search for starfish in autumn, for people who seek peace on the weekend. If we allow small areas to be quietly privatized piece by piece, we lose something that cannot be measured in square meters. This question has also been raised in When the Catamaran Came in Too Far: Banyalbufar and the Question of Who Shares Mallorca's Coasts. The renewed installation of the crane in Cala Egos is more than an administrative matter; it is a test of how seriously we take coastal protection.

Conclusion: Issuing rules is not enough. We need determined administration, visible transparency, real cost consequences and the involvement of local people. Otherwise the promenade we loved on a balmy evening will quietly be turned into a row of private boat lifts — and the sea will remain only a backdrop for the photo albums of those who can afford it.