Tag Archives: Cala

Social Mallorca

CADV23Upon leaving Palma Bay, we made good progress round the East coast of Mallorca due to reasonable winds and stayed for one night is IMG_3268[1]Cala S’Emrelda, the only boat in the small cala, overlooked by luxury bijoux hotels and houses with infinity pools.  It was lovely.

Next stop after a long day was Pollensa Bay.  A huge almost entirely enclosed shallow bay on the northern tip of the island.  We crept forwards carefully eyeing the depth gauge.  The winds were strong but after all our anchoring practice we were confident.  We found a spot about 200m off the elbow of the Real Club Nautico de Puerto Pollensa’s breakwater on the outer edge of all the boats moored or anchored nearer the shore. IMG_3269[1]

Fantastic!

Ian checked the anchor was well bedded in as very strong winds were forecast for the night.  All was good and we had a lot of chain out.

Eager to set out to meet the Chowns, we jumped in the dinghy but realised that we had not properly put the boat to bed, so headed back to finish the job properly.  Sail bag zipped up, mast cuff on, preventer pulled out tight to breast cleat. Just as we were about to leave for the second time we heard the most almighty racket of engines revving and saw , to our dismay that we were parked right in the midst of a series of buoys marking a race track for jet skis! IMG_3078[1]

Like hornets playing tag, they chased each other round and round the circuit, unsettling the already lumpy waters and creating an eddy around us.  We were imprisoned by wake. Making a beeline for the shore was impossible until they had finished their race.  A little while later, with Ian still countering about antisocial behaviour, we made it to the shore and set off for a welcome walk to stretch our legs and to meet up with the Chowns IMG_3285[1]after their day’s cycling.

 

They had bravely elected to cycle over to Sa Colabra and, more to the point, back up again!  They confessed by text that their legs were suffering and so it was decided that beer was needed.  It was so lovely to see them all, glowing from their exertions and clearly proud of their achievement!  Their route includes a continuous series of incredible hairpin bends and vertiginous views all the way back up from the Cala, and then they had to continue on to Pollensa.

We were just catching up with them when Karen spotted someone out of the corner of her eye!  It turned out to be Sarah King’s sister. IMG_3272[1]

Small world.

 

We enjoyed a fabulous evening of  chatting, barbecuing and hot-tubbing back at the Chown’s rented apartment CADV2and managed somehow to wobble back to the boat at about one in the morning before the winds had really started to get up.  All was well.

CADV3

Next day, the Chowns wanted to cycle out to the lighthouse on Formentor so we agreed to meet up on the boat during the afternoon for swimming and snacks.  The wind was blowing at a steady 25kn and it was really choppy, and chilly, in the bay so we just chatted and relaxed.  A lovely way to spend the afternoon.

We waved them off and wished Ben luck in his search for marketing work, Adam enjoyable studying for his architecture degree and Leah all the best for a fantastic summer with Camp America sailing in Maine before starting at Newcastle University!guest3

 

The next day the winds continued and we saw a number of plastic inflatables flipping past us across the bay to come to a rest on the opposite shore a couple of miles away. We watched with amazement as the seaplane taxied into the water and glided away to anchor in preparation for take-off.  A chunky bright yellow butternut squash of a machine which propelled itself up, seeming to defy gravity and circled gracefully around the bay completing a fly by directly over our mast.  (Unfortunately, I couldn’t get to the camera in time.)  Later on, we were treated to a view from the inside, as the speed boats took to the water for their chance to froth up the waters of Pollensa bay a far cry from this sedate form of transport.IMG_3279[1]IMG_3284[1]

Through some kind of psychic telepathy, we went ashore and I reserved a parking space right on the jetty.  As if by magic, Ian and Alice Daggett appeared and as soon as they were safely parked up, without further ado, we whisked them out to the Linea and had a fabulous lunch, complete with cava!  Then we made a trip out to the town of Pollensa and had a walk through the square and up to the church.  Beautiful.

After a smash and grab shop at Lidl we took all our provisions back to the boat and somehow managed to stuff it all away.  We rustled up some supper and retired for the night.

Our first sail took us down the East coast.  We anchored in a large bay called Cala de S’Agulla and decided to swim ashore for a beer.  In fact Ian and Alice swam and we took the kayak.  We had a beer as the sun set and it became chilly.  Back to the boat for a shower and drink before dinner. IMG_3295[1] IMG_3089[1]Lovely.

 

 

Next day, the wind was fresher and we were sailing so well on a reach.  CADV19Alice was at the helm and we were doing about 8kn, which isn’t bad for an old girl weighing over 13 tonnes, the boat, I mean, not Alice!  On this tack, we were delighted to reach our first milestone….ONE THOUSAND NAUTICAL MILES since leaving Portugal.CADV12 Uplifted by this achievement, on the spur of the moment, Alice enquired, ‘Why don’t we go to Menorca?’

 

We thought it was a fine idea and so we continued East.  We were aiming for Cala son Saura on the south coast.  We arrived late afternoon and anchored off the beach.  Part of a nature reserve and utterly undeveloped or altered.  The seaweed is left on the beach and their are no facilities.

Over our morning tea and coffee we were delighted to spot through the binoculars, under the shade of the trees, a couple of small cabins that seemed to have a pictograms of a woman and a man on the doors.  Feeling the need for a proper loo we headed off in the dinghy and walked along the desolate shore.  The beach was covered in brown balls of different sizes.  Strange!  They look like coir bristles bundled together in a matted tangle, like spherical dreadlocks.  Despite its unkempt, weed covered appearance it was very appealing.

 

Along a rough track towards a farm house behind the beach was a gate made from olive wood.  All wonky and curved.  Organic and rustic. I have commissioned one from Mr D, who can make anything!

 

We set off walking from the beach inland, aiming to find somewhere for coffee.  We walked about three miles and no cafe appeared.  It was a beautiful walk between fields and dry stone walls.  We saw these incredible wedding cake stone constructions and on further investigation discovered that they were hollow, barn type constructions for animals to shelter in.

We returned to the road.  Having brought no water or sun cream we decided it would be sensible to thumb a lift back to the beach. We were kindly offered a ride by a civil engineer who worked for Menorca Tourist Board.  She explained that she was here to check the newly built road and car park infrastructure that had recently been built to aid easy access to the National Park.

We moved round to Cala Trebelujer. Later in the afternoon and as soon as the tour boat had left we took the dinghy to the beach intending to lift it over the sand bar and thence to the small river in the Northern corner of the bay.  The pilot guide referred to being able to paddle up stream, through quiet marsh flat land, in order to spy turtles, dragon flies, birds and fish.  Alice and I were tempted by the prospect of our very own African Queen moment, so dressed to repel mozzies, and, sporting matching straw hats we headed ashore and jumped eagerly from the dinghy to pull it up over the sand bar.

Alice was in the lead and first to step into the fresh water of the stream.  The sand underfoot was almost like quick sand and taking a step too far, Alice disappeared up to her hips in the squidgy sand.  Luckily,she grabbed me and amidst much laughter, we were able to pull her out.  Weak with the giggles, we collapsed into the dinghy and in that few seconds seemed to have managed to scare off every wild creature that we had hoped to see.

We paddled up stream in a kind of unison, zigzagging between the reeds.  The wide mouth of the stream began to narrow and we squeezed through the vegetation until we could go no further.

It was so peaceful and tranquil.  We did see fish and dragonflies, but no turtles.  It was a pleasant way to spend an evening in the sunshine.

We set off back to Son Saura for the night and the following day had a speedy run all the way back to Pollensa.

We enjoyed refreshing showers in Pollensa and had a wander around deciding to eat out.  Returning from the restaurant Alice spotted the fish tank place where you can have your feet nibbled.  We tried it.  What a strange experience.  Kind of nippy and tickly at the same time.  But after only five minutes we had wonderfully soft feet.IMG_3093[1]

 

Next day, after breakfast Alice and Ian kindly drove us to Lidl so we could restock all the heavier supplies!  With a delicious lunch sorted, too, we went back to the boat.  All too soon, Alice and Ian had to head back to the airport via the Lluc Monastry and Soller and we were alone again.

A wonderful wine-filled and fun-filled week.

Fun and Games at Anchor

Cala Portals Vells, Mallorca

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The goings on!

When we wake up in the morning to bird song from the shore, we are almost entirely alone in this beautiful Cala; just a couple of other sail boats bobbing about.  We gaze up at the surrounding headlands that are tree covered and verdant and lush.  There is a lone worker rearranging sun beds and cushions on three newly swept little beaches nestled in between promentories.  Beach goers will arrive later by car or on foot.  The view out to sea across the Bay of Palma is clear and cloudless.  Bliss!

 

On the southern most headland are incredible Phoenitian cavesIMG_3239[1] which have been here for 2000 years and where there is an amazing shrine carved into the limestone rock. IMG_3244[1] There is a tomb tucked away in there too and cavernous rooms that go back far under the surface and are cool and damp.  The ground is sandy under foot and above there are only the tiniest of stalactites illustrating how little water makes its way through the rocks to the cave.

 

Huge square arches have been cut to let in as much light as possible and you can really imagine an ancient community of people living here, safe and invisible from marauding pirates.  Around them there would be access to water, sea food and some limited vegetation as well as the chance to do some hunting of wild boar, wild goats and other mammals that would have lived in the densely wooded areas around here.IMG_3030[1]

So, breakfast IMG_3243[1]can be enjoyed sitting on the deck in serenity.  The lapping of the waves, the wind wafting the branches of the trees, the sun twinkling on the water and the sea bream darting beneath the surface of the azure sea.

 

Then the fun begins.  Being only 8 miles or so from Palma de Mallorca the day boats and tourist glass bottomed boats start to arrive.

 

One or two sailing yachts make their way in.  Everyone wants to be as near to the beach as possible, they want to anchor over sand, where the water appears most turquoise in order to enjoy the day.

Gradually, this small Cala fills up.  IMG_3028[1]Mostly large, stealth-style, motor boats with snarling mouths and jagged shark-like anchor teeth.  Their smooth lines, glistening metalwork and gleaming gel coats glide in; shining and beaming out to the world around,

‘Look at me, haven’t I done well?’

They anchor in pole position with the aplomb and supreme confidence only those who exude success can do.  On board, heads begin to emerge like meerkats, curious to see where they have arrived.

We give them names!  The East End Bank Robbers!  The Boy Band, The Frenchies, The Oiks on the Black Boat, The Britannia Jet Submarine Day Trippers (with a slide on the side ), The Hamburgers , The Danish Bacons, The Five, No Six, Times a Day (lots of anchor practice) , The German Industrialist, The Gin and Tonics, The Sales Reps Team-Building Outing, The Boat That Rocked, The Nosy Missing an ‘I’, The German Space Invaders….

The stern hatches open and jet skis scoot out and roar off with whooping youngsters aboard, paid crew dart about like anchovies, pumping up paddle boards and lowering dinghies.

Wine, beer and food appears on sun decks to the waiting owners and friends.

There are shrieks of laughter and lots of guffawing.  Then a period of quiet whilst people digest their lunch and drink more hospitality wine. IMG_3245[1]  Suddenly, an urge for activity strikes, and  jet skis tear about, ribs and dinghies chase their wake and girls scream with delight.  Men paddle about sedately, chatting companionably  to each other, as they glide along.

 

Music starts to beat out a rhythmic tattoo and the high hat and bass compete for attentionIMG_3248[1].   People are heating up in the sunshine and the leaping, diving and jumping begins.  Increasingly daring jumps of bravado are made from higher and higher parts of the boats.  Some of those on The Sales Reps Team-Building Outing leap in naked to shouts of abuse.

Meanwhile, there is much to entertain Ian, as if naked people wasn’t enough!, as he watches and notes dropping and weighing anchor techniques.

The wind constantly shifts in the bay and so we all swing round, the noses of the boats sniff out the wind direction.  This leads to some hasty fendering as crews realise that boats are too close together and they will need to limit damage when they collide.  Luckily, most of these vessels have bow thrusters so they can avert any imminent catastrophe.  We work on the theory that we were here first so others need to watch out for us, especially as we are the least manoeuvrable.

As the sun dips down over the headland, the jet skis disappear back into the lockers and lazerettes the size of a small child’s bedroom.  Pink bodies head for the shade and more refreshment.  The sun loungers and mattresses on the beach are stacked up like the bed in The Princess and the Pea.  The shouts and shrieks gradually fade away.  Boats weigh their anchors and creep away in to the dusk.

Peace at last.

Oh, wait a moment, The Nosy but Missing an ‘I’  boat decides to stay longer and spends the next two hours tearing around the bay creating unnecessary waves on their rib.  The rest of us tut and raise our eyebrows and finally cheer a silent cheer as the drunken lot head off back to Palma.