Menorca

We left Bonaire Marina for what appeared an attractive anchorage just inside Baia Pollensa – Cala Pinar. 

The log reads:  “Thunder, lightning, rain, nuisance swell at anchor”.  By the following day we were dragging, scratchy from lack of sleep and further  irritated by  leaks round hatches and binnacle [after a long, hot, dry summer] and returned to anchor just outside Bonaire for a second rainy night.

But on the 27^th, the clouds blew away

  

& we headed for Menorca – about 28 miles to Cala Son Saura, a few miles SE of Ciudadella.  A most attractive, wide Cala off a sandy beach,  not a house in sight – and those who did come to the beach had to park about a kilometre away.  Much flatter than Mallorca, the whole feel of its close neighbour was completely different.

We were running a bit low on fruit & veg, and the skipper proposed that I should be rowed ashore, with  bike, to find the road shown on the chart, leading to a village where there were “supplies” – Porto Tamarind – about 4 km to the West.   Despite continuously looking to my left as I pedalled along the stony track, no such road appeared, so eventually I carried on [after a moment’s excitement when I spotted an awning over a table by a van, at a road junction– would this be a smiling, mahogany-faced farmer’s wife with wonderful home grown produce  - perhaps even honey -  on sale?  No, it was the trappings of a car park attendant – complete with LED signs announcing which beach car parks were full.  Extraordinary.]  to Ciudadella – 12 km – where the necessary supplies were obtained and a welcome tortilla & orange juice acquired in a shady square before heading back.  The road to Porto Tamarind must only exist from Ciudadella.    I was surprised to see several herds of healthy looking dairy cattle – the land was exceptionally stony & didn’t look capable of producing the necessary feed – but we learned later that Menorcan milk and cheese are excellent & they are justly proud of them.  So a rather longer trip than anticipated on a very hot day, but an interesting one!

After a couple of nights in Son Saura, we had a fine reach up the coast towards Mahon, finding ourselves amidst the end of a classic yacht race.    There was a brisk breeze by then, and seeing these beautiful ladies flying along under full sail was a privilege which brought a lump to my throat [and, I suspect, the skipper’s]. ……Mahon Harbour

………
…. After crossing the finishing line they all sailed into Mahon Harbour

while we went to anchor in Cala Taulera – a perfect anchorage to the East of Isla Lazaretto [where the poor victims of cholera and yellow fever used to be incarcerated] in the harbour, surrounded by tremendous fortifications. …………

 

This haven is actually now “forbidden” which is outrageous.

It is not off a bathing beach, does not have a posidonia bed [sea grass which is viewed as a precious marine environment where former anchorages are now buoyed – and you pay!]  is not in a shipping lane [being some 5m deep!], and has a clearly marked  channel down one side for small vessels.  However, reports on the Cruising Association forum and advice from Bruce & Becky on Plane Song revealed that we were unlikely to be turfed out at a weekend and, although a single port official came by, this proved to be the case.

The skipper, indifferent to the fact that he is about to be 70, dived on the hull [he has his full set and a compressor on board] and cleaned it – not quite weed, but certainly a great deal of slime.  I’m sure Stravaigin is now going faster!  He slept exceptionally well that night.

On Monday the official returned with his boss and, still unfailingly courteous, admitted that it was purely because the Marinas needed the business.   We had to pay a €7.20 “Anchor Tax”  [new one on us!] but he kindly let us know [the boss didn’t speak English…..] that as long as we were gone by 0800 on Tuesday, no-one would be any the wiser, as they had work in another part of the harbour for the rest of the day.

Embarrassed to report that the skipper and mate of another UK boat were very rude to him, both shouting abuse for some time.  They were liveaboards, just back from Sardinia [but with the benefit of two nights’ sleep], so really should have known better.  We saw the official later in the week, and Mike apologised behalf of the British – he smiled sweetly and said “Oh, well, not everyone can be polite”

So we weighed around 0730 and were just heading towards the channel when a French skipper whistled us up – he had managed to put himself “a little” aground & just needed a gentle tow for 2 metres.  He was lucky – there wasn’t another soul about!  He did tell us that the channel round the back of Lazaretto was only 2.3m which is exactly our draught!  So we went the long way round into Mahon harbour proper.

It now being September, when the islands empty of holiday makers like water down a drain, the prices in Marina Mahon were not actually too bad [and they weren’t worried that we arrived shortly after 0800…] – we even negotiated a discount for the third night!  And we had some extremely classy neighbours…

…  It is a fascinating port, well worth a visit, not only for the extraordinary natural harbour, but for the Moor-influenced historic centre and we were quite happy to do the normal maintenance and then explore whilst waiting for Simon to join us.

We even cycled out to Lidl to stock up on Mueseli & chocolate!  The main market was a bit of a let-down, the prices aimed at tourists and the stock disappointing, but the fish market was good.  I discovered a good fruiteria not far from the marina whose prices were much better!

Mallorca!

We always believed the Spanish didn’t get up in the mornings because they went to bed so late.

Foolish.  The reason they don’t get up is that there isn’t any wind till nearly lunch time!

Entry from Log for 9^th August:

“0700:  Weigh & proceed UP  [Under Power].  NW1.  Dry, clear.

“1130:  Full sail” – for the remainder of the 50 mile crossing to Isla Dragonera off the Western end of Mallorca.  A slightly tricky anchorage with weed and rocks – and a “2m. rock in the middle of the anchorage” – a less than helpful entry in the Pilot, without any co-ordinates.  Certainly not on our electronic chart!  So once the skipper had chosen his spot, I hopped over the side in my fins & snorkel, had a look at the anchor and located the rock – waving to Mike on tip-fin to prove it was 2m under water.  I noticed a lot of small, harmless looking jelly fish, enjoyed a leisurely swim and came back on board.

Shortly afterwards, we were joined by Shenandoah.  What a picture of loveliness,  She was built in 1902   and has been extensively re-fitted.  She’s now on the market – hope she finds an owner who wants to sail her.

Not happy with the holding the next day, Mike dove over the side and was back again about half a minute later, shouting for vinegar.  He had a weal on his neck which looked as if he had been cut down from a lynching  - my Italian Waters Pilot [but not the Balearics one] revealed the culprit

…………..  Despite the vinegar compress it was extremely painful for 24 hours & didn’t fully go away for about a week.  They seem to go about in drifts, so watch out!  I did volunteer to go in later in a long-sleeved polo neck & pyjama bottoms to check our new position, but happily this offer was declined!

We stayed a second night –anchored out of sight of buildings – and then headed up to Palma via Cala Blanca [which is a bit like saying Black Rock on the West Coast] and Les Isletas which must be lovely off- season.

Thanks to word from Vickie of Bella Luna, we had a really good deal in the heart of Palma Harbour.  Where we were in the realms of the good, the bad and the ugly

– and felt pretty small!..........  La Llonja Marina is actually a charter base, tucked into the NE corner of the harbour, nearer to the city than any of the others.  Full at weekends, they sensibly offer their berths on weekdays for about half the price of anywhere else.  We enjoyed our stay – it’s a lovely city.    We failed [surprise] to find a place where we had had an excellent lunch about six years ago, but did locate a great little restaurant called Les Oliviers with a quirky, eclectic menu which included yellow gazpacho [“Delicious” – Michael Stewart] Cambodian Noodles and Organic Burger!   Can’t remember the address, but it was in the shadow of a big church…..

Our friends David & Jane arrived in one piece – well, two – kindly bringing with them the usual assortment of spares and requests from UK.  Spending a night on the way down, we sailed over to Cabrera [Goat Island – Rabbit Island is also part of the archipelago], a nature reserve about 12 miles South of  Mallorca. 

You have to book one of the limited buoys to stay there, but it was well worth it – a stunning natural harbour, once the haunt of pirates [which got the skipper’s imagination fired up] and now watched over by a military base on the island.  In an enterprising move, the Army Cantina is open to the public for drinks & snacks.  Sadly, you’re only allowed a one night stay in August – it was lovely to be away from resorts & jet-skis.

The staircase at the castle - just wide enough if you aren't horizontally challenged....

Our friends also kindly brought with them some excellent sailing weather – we used the engine far less than recently.  Mike spent some time attempting to fine tune the self-steering gear – still not quite right, but we’re getting there.  This will be great when we are sailing short-handed, as the Autopilot consumes a lot of power so can only be used when motoring,

After heading back to the bigger island, we found ourselves in Porto Cristo, a Cala with deep cliffs on either side – again, a wonderful natural haven.  After D & J had gone for a recce, they suggested we visit the Cuevas del Drach – an enormous series of caves with an underground lake at their heart.  Despite being herded in there with holiday crowds, we were all bowled over by them – the size and variety of stalactites & stalagmites were extraordinary – I certainly had to remind myself more than once that we weren’t in some CGI generated film set.  They have made an auditorium by the lake and we were treated to a mini classical concert by a trio in a rowing boat, with two extra softly lit vessels for effect, moving back & forth amongst the arches and shadows. Not easy to photograph, but if you find yourself in Mallorca, do go.  Hold your nerve as you queue up for your tickets & go past the gift shop and the coaches – to all four of us it was definitely worth it. [and choose a quieter month if you can!].

Finally, with David & Jane on hand, we flew the cruising chute  [smaller than a spinnaker, but similar material] for the first time on our way past Baia Alcudia to Baia Pollensa.  Most gratifying [and pretty] – 6 – 7 knots in very light airs. 

Let’s just say that recovering it needs some work, especially if you are short handed. 

Thanks are due to Jane for lying face down [who is no doubt grateful we were all too busy to capture her on the camera...] on the bit we managed to get in first to stop it flying off again while I was furiously stuffing some more into the sack!  David had spent more than his fair share of time at the helm during the week, so it was only just that he was there, having a relatively quiet time, rather than up on the foredeck, battling with the rest of us!  I have already done some research into a snuffer.

We do need to find a willing photographer on another yacht to take pictures of Stravaigin under sail.

We rented bikes for D&J’s last day, and enjoyed a pedal round to Pollensa via Alcudia before repairing to El Cocodrillo in Bonaire for a delicious final supper.

At least as far as Ibiza!

Sorry about that last post.   Google told me it had uploaded and in fact it was only in draft.  Try again!

After we left Torrevieja - this is the sort of company we keep nowadays.   Circa 100ft. and that isn't just a boom basket - it's a walkway! Nice to see a very active sailing school in most harbours -  and passed Benidorm at a safe distance [good grief] I was very excited to note on the chart

 that we were now 00 deg. EAST!  Mike kindly pointed out that we had looked at the possibility of stopping at Marina Greenwich, and there may have been a hint there.....

We had a couple of nights anchored off El Rinconet which was far more attractive [thanks to Vickie for the suggestion] & then departed NNE for Ibiza.  At least 15 miles out, this fellow landed with an exhausted clatter on our reefing lines at the end of the boom

 beautifully camouflaged in black and khaki. We weren't sure if he was trying to get to Ibiza or Spain, but he rested there peacefully enough until the wind got up and Mike tried to move him so we could hoist the main.  Sadly, his attempts to remove him to safety failed, and he flew off.  We hope he made it!

 Our first choice of anchorage in Ibiza was jam packed, so we headed to this group of islets on the SW tip.

Like most of the places we visited, it was busy during the day with all manner of craft, but particularly Isla Conjera - a good, horse-shoe shaped bay, was quiet at night as all the motor boats & super yachts headed for home

But before one of the biggest gin palaces left, we were treated to the most extraordinary sight. .  A powerful jet ski tows some sort of hose which delivers two jets of water to the person's boots.  If they manage to stay upright - and we saw one girl going face first into the drink many times - this is the effect.  They didn't  go very far like this - height seemed to be the object.  What will they think of next?  [I have to say, most children would be itching to have a go, wouldn't they?....]

There was a NE blow forecast, so we headed round the island to Cala St. Vincent, tucked under Cabo Grossa.  Not bad little shops and an excellent "Bar on the Beach" - extremely hippie in tone [proprietor, Dutch former lawyer, I think] and really good food.  A shopping trip was planned, the Beeb launched with MJS at the oars, favouring the new seat at the stern. Pretty good at rowing in a straight line, very inexperienced in even mild surf, I spotted a small boy exactly where we were planning to land and immediately pulled the wrong oar, putting us sideways on to the waves.  Skipper managed to step nimbly over the side and hold onto the boat, up to his thighs in water, but MJS rolled smartly off the [slightly tippy, as mentioned] seat and into the water, head first.  Completely unhurt except pride and a very uncomfortable sandy squelch up to the beach shower [what an excellent invention] to attempt to remove the sand from everything.  Three cheers for the rucksack given to us by Tania and Ruaridh - everything inside - wallet, cash, etc. survived well.  But the sand continued to annoy us for several days!