Tag Archives: yacht

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.

Guest blog – An outsider’s perspective

guest2Having cycled 70 miles from Puerto de Pollenca, through the stunning mountains in the North of Mallorca, the 5 of us arrived at around 4pm to our favourite little beach bar where we’d arranged to meet up with Ian and Sarah.  On a high from our exertions, and dehydrated from the heat of the day, we eagerly gulped down our beers while we waited. There was no mistaking them when they arrived, but gone were the shackles of life in the Dales – I couldn’t now imagine Ian wearing a shirt and tie and conforming to the routine of a steady job.  They both looked somehow ‘nautical’ and at one with their new life bobbing around the Mediterranean in their boat Linea.  It was good to see them and to catch up with their latest exploits.  After another round of drinks (or two) spirits were high and we headed back to our apartment, just a hundred metres away, and retired to our private rooftop terrace, complete with barbecue and hot tub.  While Ben, Adam and Leah went off to shop for food for the evening, we chatted about home in the Dales and the stark contrast of their new life on the boat.  More drinks and a fabulous barbecue later, the kids disappeared to go and find a bar where they could watch the Champions League final, while we opted for a soak in the hot tub. The space of the villa struck Sarah in particular, who, having lived aboard for around 3 months already, was clearly aware of the tight spaces inherent in any yacht design.  The wind was strong and once we’d dried off, it was sadly time for Ian and Sarah to head back to Linea to keep an eye on her overnight as she pulled on her bow anchor, bobbing and yawing in the bay throughout the night.

The following day, with the wind still blowing strongly, we headed off for another bike ride – this time heading out towards Cap de Formentor, the lighthouse at the end of the most North Easterly peninsula of the island.  It wasn’t too long before we realised that the excesses of the previous day (both cycling and drinking!) were having an adverse effect on our ability to pedal, so we turned back, had breakfast and did a spot of sunbathing before walking to the marina where Ian had agreed to pick us up in the tender to have the afternoon aboard Linea.  The 15hp outboard pushed all 6 of us very nicely into a strong headwind out into the bay and towards Linea at anchor.  As we approached, there was Sarah, waving from the stern ready to take our painter (technical term for the line that attaches the tender to the yacht).  Having chartered many yachts around the Med (in Greece and Croatia) it soon became apparent that this was no ordinary charter yacht.  This was a solid yacht, built for sailing and for living aboard.  For a start, a slab-reefed Mainsail took the place of the now common in-mast furling sails (which perform very poorly upwind by comparison).  Once aboard and furnished with yet more beer (after all it was 3pm by this stage), Ian took us on a tour around the deck.  Everywhere I looked this yacht was different.  There was more mast rigging and a more substantial mast to start with.  On top of that, all the deck gear (pulleys, winches, cleats and jammers) looked like they’d come off a much larger yacht – all very substantial.  The Spinnaker pole and foresail pole were both solidly built with beautifully crafted stainless steel fairleads and cleats at bow, stern and mid-ships.  An array of other kit was festooned on the mast and spreaders including radar, VHF antenna, Foghorn and lights.  Mounted to the tender Davitts (used to lower and hoist the tender when not in use), a powerful guest3floodlight, directed at the mainsail area could be switched on to highlight the sail like a triangular beacon in case a passing craft should fail to notice the navigation lights during a night passage.  It would be impossible to miss Linea (unless of course the watch were asleep!)  A powerful wind generator and array of solar panels mounted at the stern meant that Ian and Sarah could run their fridge for free without running the engine – not important when you’re on a 1 week cruise, but expensive in diesel, and noisy, if you live aboard.  Beyond this, the boat has an incredible array of electronic ‘clutter’ – some of which works and some of which doesn’t, covering all manner of requirements – man overboard, more VHF antennas, wi-fi booster, etc. etc.

The deck is coated in a sandtex type product which affords excellent grip, but also takes the skin off your knees – and it’s surprising just how much time you spend on your knees on a yacht, especially as a Catholic!  The cockpit has plenty of space and is very comfortable for 2 – perhaps a little crowded for the 7 of us – as the spilled bowls of crisps and broken glass confirmed later.  It’s surprising just how far tiny pieces of toughened glass can scatter when crushed by Sarah’s bare foot!  Talking of bare feet, at my suggestion, Ian took a great shot of my cod-like lady white feet (which had, to be fair, been in cycling shoes all week) next to his very brown, weathered man feet.

Down below, the electronic wizardry continued with a myriad of kit, without which, one wonders how Magellan, Cook and Shackleton ever managed.  I’ve never seen a Bavaria like this one.  This was from the early Bavaria stables and the difference between it and the typical modern day budget versions (though they have improved of late) is staggering.  The quality of the joinery wouldn’t be found on any, but the most expensive of modern yachts.  Overall, a very nice 44ft yacht which is larger than one would imagine for its size.  There are cubby holes in abundance –  Ian has somehow even managed to get his bike on board!

On to the reality of life aboard … Having only ever once spent 3 weeks in one stint at sea, I can only imagine what this must be like.  Surely this must be the true test of any relationship – and in reality, an unfair test.  How many couples spend 24 hours per day, 7 days per week together, in the same 44ft long space – with nowhere to go and no decent doors to slam after a tiff?  On the positive side, there are no shelves to hang and no wallpapering to do.  In their place though, is an apparently, endless list of things to repair, replace, scrub and clean.  I don’t know how many of you have ever been around a yacht chandlers?  As an engineer, I happen to love them – but it won’t surprise you to know that you don’t get much change out of £100, regardless of what you need to buy!  In terms of the general routine of life aboard – whilst there are certain routines that need to be adhered to (weather checks, engine checks, etc.), there is no fixed plan, no final destination, no need to go anywhere in actual fact.  It must, therefore be quite pleasant to have a reason to go somewhere and to have to be there by a certain time.  In the week we had been in Mallorca, Ian and Sarah had had a visit from Ian’s father who just happened to be sailing into Palma on a cruise ship for a day or two.  This had given them a reason to sail from Soller where they had been based for several weeks, to Palma at the Western end of the Island. Following this, we had agreed to meet them at the end of the week at Puerto de Pollenca, diametrically opposite Palma at the other end of the Island.  So, after saying their goodbyes to Ian’s Dad, they had sailed via the Southern coast to see us.  The effort was very much appreciated – we had a lovely time.  Sarah is doing a great job with her blog and Ian in keeping them both safe at sea.  There are many followers looking out for details of their latest adventure.

Your friends are here in Wharfedale thinking about you both.  Keep plugging away.  It can’t be easy sometimes.

Nick

Nick Chown and family, on board May 2016

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.

Passage Preparation

IMG_3234[1]After two glorious weeks in Port de Soller Mallorca, we set off for our new anchorage.  An email from friend and fellow sailer from landlocked Wharfedale, has prompted me to jot down a little of what we do in preparation for a trip out.

A couple of days beforehand we look at various weather forecasts.  (Although we are looking at the forecast everyday even if we are parked up or at anchor) They all seem to be slightly different so we kind of judge the average of them all, particularly in terms of wind speeds and direction.

Using this prediction, we can access how easy a sail may be to where we want to head.

We would rather not beat into the wind if possible, preferring to wait until the wind is blowing the right way!  Also, I would prefer that the winds are manageable in strength, so up to 20kn being about my limit in terms of comfort zone.  Often, we have found that if the predicted wind speed is 20kn, once you are out there it is usually much more!!!   If it’s going to be blowing a hooley, then we’d rather stay in port!

So, having settled on a destination which would be within range, say 25 – 50nm, we plot a course on the open CPN navigation software; putting in various way points and checking the entire route in close up for any potential hazards.

We look at the destination port in the pilot guide and take a note of the course to follow for safe entrance.    Checking the things to look out for on the headland and mouth of the harbour.  We have the Navionics App ready on the phone so we can see the plan of the marina.

In addition, we check tides and currents, if necessary, and generally make a note of Barometer readings the previous day and evening.

I always like to have a plan B just in case the wind changes and the original destination becomes more difficult to enter.  Sometimes we have to have a plan C as well!  I write down this plan in RYA fashion with a little drawing of the destination port, etc.

I open up a new ships log on the computer and fill in as much detail as I can about the weather, (from forecasts and observations) barometer, temperature, humidity, provisioning plan, etc.

Once that stuff is complete really it’s practical preparations of the boat and crew.  A visit to the shower block ashore, last minute provisioning, back to the boat, shore shoes sprayed with cockroach killer so we don’t bring the nasty little critters’ eggs aboard inadvertently. Boat shoes on, breakfast, tidy up, teeth.

Life jackets are to hand, MOB alarms are worn, shoes are on feet as there have been injuries when sailing in bare feet, factor 30 (soon to be 50) sun cream is applied, jackets at the ready in case of chill, binoculars on deck and water bottles filled.

We have already done the provisioning, filled the water and diesel tanks.

After our experience with the sail drive and head gasket we now complete a daily engine check (WOBBLE) and also one once we are underway.

Below decks we stow all moveable items in lockers or on deep shelves, etc, and shut all doors or pin them back.  We close and lock all hatches and lock off the heads, after we had a flooded forward head one day.

Ian switches all the instruments on; AIS which transmits our position, speed, heading and also receives the same information about other vessels in the area; VHF is tuned to Channel 16; wind, depth, speed, navigation and autopilot instruments are activated. The course is activated on Open CPN and the first waypoint is sent to the navigation instruments at the helm.  The MOB alarm is switched on.

Then we come on deck and put the engine on so it can be warming up.

We take sail covers off, attach the main halyard and check that everything we’ve moved whilst in port is back in the right place.  For example, we always fix the main halyard away from the mast so  that it doesn’t clank all night.  We also attach one of the preventers on the boom to the breast cleat so that the boom doesn’t squeak as the boat rocks.

Next, we stow the fenders in the stern lazarette.

Now, it’s time to lift up the anchors.  When in Soller, we deployed a kedge anchor off the stern  in addition to the main anchor because we wanted to be kept facing into the swell which comes into the bay.  Also, other boats around us were moored up to two mooring buoys so we didn’t have the space to swing at anchor.  (It would have been uncomfortable in any case!)  Once the kedge anchor is recovered and stowed, we attach and hoist the dinghy and finally, lift and fix the main anchor.   Then the anchor ball comes down.

We motor out of the port giving a jaunty wave to new friends who we are sure to meet up with again soon.

We check that the course has been sent up to the console at the helm and I make the second entry in my shop’s log noting the time of departure.

When possible I try to make an entry in the log every time we change the sails, or tack or when I remember, or when I am below decks.

So, there you go, Nick Chown, all recorded for you.  We don’t have paper charts for this area which is a shame, because I prefer to use them and see the whole route in detail.  It’s also good to be able to plot your positions on it regularly as a back up to electronic stuff.

From starting to lift anchors, etc it was at least 45 minutes ’til we motored out of the bay.  It would have been longer but luckily the dinghy winch decided that it would continue to work just long enough to pull up the dinghy on to the davits after a teasing halt to its smooth action. Another thing to add to the repair list that grows on a daily basis!

As for parking…that’s a whole other story!!!

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Well Deserved Coffee Time

Ceuta to Mallorca Part 3

Planning for our longest single trip yet…and knowing that we had David Heane, maiden voyager extraordinaire, arriving to assist once more, we intended to provision at the nearby Mercadona supermarket.  Unfortunately, it took us hours and miles of walking due to catching the wrong bus!

Anyway, we finally arrived back at the boat (by taxi) and unloaded just in time for David’s arrival. Before any beers could be opened we had a serious job to complete.  The fitting of the fog horn.   (Foghorn, Leghorn!).  David and I

View from the top
View from the top

hauled Ian up the mast to the first set of spreaders, a second time so he could fit the refurbished fog horn.  But this time he also wanted to be pulled all the way to the top of the mast so that he could inspect it completely.  A lot of effort for David.  I was on the safety lines.

 

Job done!

Beers were opened but not too much as we had to be up at 0430 to leave enough time to get to Ibiza so we could rendezvous with Angela.

We negotiated the busy fishing area outside Altea.  By sunrise we had passed most of the fishing craft around us.  We had a good days sailing, even Genevieve made an appearance but she broke her shackle around the bowsprit so had to be put away again!  But whilst she was up, we saw dolphins on about three occasions.  Large pods of them that came to play around the bow.  It was fantastic to see them.  We arrived in San Antonio, Ibiza at about 1730.  Our first impressions were good.

We were tied up in a nice space near the toilets and the Capitania.  David and I had put the boat to bed before Captain Moulding came back from booking in, with his free handy zippable folder, useful lanyard and, most importantly, drinks vouchers.

We spruced ourselves up and set off for the bar.  Three beers and three cavas later we headed back to the boat for dinner.   Next day, would be a quick hop round the island to Sant Miquel where we were to pick up Angela.

We arrived early afternoon and anchored over sand.

Sant Miguel anchorage
Sant Miguel anchorage

We took the dinghy to the beach to suss it out and peruse the menu of a beach front restaurant – possibly one of the the most expensive ever! And then we were back at the boat for tea.   Sleep by 2130 so that we would have a few hours kip before Angela arrived from her flight to Ibiza.  The boys got up to go and collect her from the beach. The taxi driver was most perturbed to be leaving her alone on the beach at 0130.  She assured him that the lights heading to shore were indeed coming to collect her.

We were up and at ’em by 0500 hrs and off to Mallorca in a very wallowy sea; whether motoring or sailing.  We made fair progress.  Mostly motoring because of the swell.  We arrived in Andratx in the afternoon and parked on the floating pontoon stern to next to a friendly Frenchman.  No sign of the Ports IB marineros so we set off to the bar and were delighted to meet the gang from T’Shire.  The Daggets and The Vyvyans.  How special!

We had made it!  790 miles over the course of 7 weeks.  They had provided the incentive to arrive at a certain place by a certain time and we had done it!