30th June

We had a lovely lie in and pushed off with the intention of looking at the bay next door. It didn't look too inviting so we pressed on round the southernmost tip of Mallorca and into Puerto Colonia De Sant Jordi. We're picking Sue and Roger up from here tomorrow. It was OK for lunch but not sheltered enough for overnight. The Pilot book had details of an interesting narrow cove 8 miles down the coast so we thought we would have a look. The narrow entrance led to a small inlet with room for about 4 boats. Sadly we were boat number 5. We went back to just round the corner from where we started and will stay here for the night.

29th June

This morning was overcast and blustery. The plan was to go ashore and then move further on to another bay further south. It seemed a lot of bother. And then a nice Spanish man told us that we weren't allowed to anchor where we were. That made our mind up. We motored a few hundred metres across the bay, picked up a buoy and decided to stay for the night. We downloaded the newspapers this morning, went for a walk this afternoon and have identified a tapas bar for supper tonight. Incidentally I must congratulate Lucinda. Today is our 35th anniversary.

28th June

This morning we rowed to the harbour wall and walked into the old town. Very picturesque but not at all touristy. Lucinda bought yet more fruit and vegetable; but can I persuade her that buying baked beans is priority? At breakfast I got a look from her as I helped myself to Lizzie's granola. It's Lucinda's special packet. We motor-sailed the 5.5 miles round to Porto Petro. This is a deep Cala with three limbs, one of which contains a marina. The other two bays are meant to contain bookable buoys but they had only been laid in one inlet. So we headed to the other and dropped anchor. We had to try twice as there is a lot of weed on the bottom. We ended up next to a Spanish boat with one male skipper and 10 young women on board. It was a small monohull and the women squeezed themselves into contorted positions trying to find space for all of them to lie out on deck. We'll eat on board tonight.

27th June

Last night the outboard motor failed to start. There's always something. This morning it sputtered into life and we went into town. The owner of the shop we stopped at is from Pakistan. He told us that the Caves of Drach were testament to the creative power of God. We walked to the entrance to find out. They certainly are spectacular caves, although not the best we have ever seen. Stalactites like yarns of wool and stalagmites resembling great organ pipes. According to the guide it was M.F. Will who explored the caves in 1880, although E.A. Martel discovered the lake that bears his name. Anyway halfway through the tour we sat in an arena by the lake within the caves. The lights dimmed. There was a glow in the distance. Ethereal music drifted over us. Lights appeared on the water and a small rowing boat silently came towards us. On board were two violists, a lady playing the cello and someone sat by an organ placed across the bow of the boat. It was like something from a Monty Python sketch. Back on the boat we were about to have lunch when the police started shouting at us from the shore. They didn't like us having lines ashore. Time to leave. We went south to Porto Colom. It is only 8 miles in a straight line. However even with motoring the last 2 miles, tacking into a southerly meant we had to cover 18 miles. They've filled the bay with buoys so we've picked one up.

26th June

The two French boats on our left and the big cat to our right thankfully pushed off this morning going dangerously close to other boats on their way out. Sut alors! Imagine got a thorough fresh water hose down and the water tanks were filled. Time to leave. We intended to pick a quiet anchorage going south but all we passed were either fringed with big apartment blocks or desolate and forbidding. We have ended up just outside Porto Cristo. The anchor is in mid channel and we've taken a couple of lines to the rocks to keep us (hopefully) secure and tucked out of the way while avoiding the expense of the marina. This is place is famous for caves discovered by MEA Martel in 1896 (me too) and an unsuccessful landing of the Communists during the civil war.

25th June

The storm I was expecting never came and we had a comfortable night at anchor. The starboard engine seems alright but I am concerned that there might be damage to the prop. We motored the mile back to the marina at Ratjada to fill up with diesel. Lucinda wants to hoover the boat and do some ironing so for the first time since Santa Pola when we started in early June we have booked in for the night. It means mains power and the chance to hose down the boat. The downside is it's expensive, dirty, smelly and noisy. There are also showers on shore. We will have to see if they are as good as the one on the boat. We have been to the supermarket to replenish stores and bought another gas canister. The water is too dirty to dive so I won't be inspecting the propellor here. Now we've been hit by another French boat. It was mooring next to us as we had lunch. Their bow swung round and crunched onto our starboard side. That will need another gelcoat repair job. Anyway we'll eat onshore as we can walk back to the boat. In the meantime chores to do.

24th June

Lucinda was woken by the lads on the adjacent boat returning at 5 am. Otherwise all was tranquil. In the town we watched the same hundred or so horsemen parade round an open area at the top of the harbour. Do they have a change of clothes? The horses were immaculate and once again the riders showed off with turns and Lone Ranger rearing up moments. After about an hour of this they formed up at one end of the arena holding lances. A light turned green and a bugle played over the speakers. A rider set off down the arena lance held upright. As he went into a flat out gallop he bent low over the horse and moved the lance in his right hand into a horizontal position. He charged directly towards a dense mass of people over whom a tiny target dangled from a wire. The crowd opened in front of the rider and closed behind him as the horse passed. The idea was to insert the tip of the javelin into a hole in the centre of a small metal plate dangling above the crowd. It was a tiny target. If the rider was successful a big cheer went up. But there were few of those. Most attempts were rewarded with a collective groan. We then went for a drink before coming upon the horses again performing their way through the centre of town. Too scared to brave crossing the column we cowered against the wall as hoofs and rumps gyrated in front of us. This was all rehearsal for tonight. However, by this time we had seen enough of the horses. The weather was predicted to deteriorate so we decided to set off for Mallorca. The windy was fluky, the sky leaden and the atmosphere oppressive. We arrived off the Puerto De Cala Ratjada and the starboard engine overheated. There's always something. Anyway the marina didn't look too inviting, especially on one engine, so we made our way 1.5 miles up the coast and are now at anchor in the Cala De Sa Font, and here we will stay for the night.

23rd June part 2

The main square was full. We waited for something to do with horses but we weren't sure what. A man dressed in black entered riding a donkey. He was banging a drum and blowing a whistle. Then a man riding a horse, also dressed formally in black with hat and black bow tie, boots and spurs. The horse was decorated with a colourful saddle cloth, ribbons in its tail and a Spanish saddle. Then came another horse and rider, and another. Lucinda estimates that there were about a hundred of them. The riders were all male with some who were quite old and one in an oversized suit was about 12 years old. They were all in black apart from the second in line and the second from last who wore white trousers and white bow ties. Last of all was a clergyman in a dog collar. The band started playing. They only had one tune which they repeated again and again, but it was good and catchy. The horses paraded round the square in and through the crowds. In front of the orchestra each rider wheeled his mount round and made it rear up on it's hind legs. People were hanging on to the horses, standing underneath as they reared up and turned full circles. The music played, the horses reared, the crowd were frenzied and it went on and on. When this had finally ended there was a break before hazelnut throwing commenced. Tonight the adolescents were at it. Extreme pick up techniques consisted of lobbing a handful of nuts at a girl you fancied and then getting your mates to throw her up into the air. By this time many were clutching plastic bottles or glasses of iced Gin and lemon. We sat in a narrow passage waiting for the final event. Great posses of people passed us in both directions. Many stumbling and weaving and clutching their drinks. There were some couples and a few older people. Most were groups of girls holding hands or swaggering boys. Then the horses came down the passage at a fast trot. In front of them was more than a wall of people. It was a densely packed mass. Without any hesitation the horses plunged into the melee, rising up on their hind legs and rotating in 360 degree turns. Somehow there was space in the seething mass for the horses to be swallowed up and surrounded as they ploughed through the crowd. We could see them down the road leaping and turning above the pack of people until they were out of sight. Time after time it seemed as though someone would get crushed or a rider unseated. Around the horses pressing in on them, people were singing, leaping up and down with arms outstretched, and yelling a repetitive song with lots of oles in it. It was terrifying and extraordinary to watch.

23rd June

The first bout of hazelnut throwing was last night. There was some affectionate chucking and some outright warfare. Among it all tiny kids were picking up nuts and putting them in baskets or jumping up and down on them to hear the popping noise. It was another disturbed night. A big thunderstorm swept in and the rain hammering woke Lucinda who closed the hatches. Streaks of lightning mingled with the searching beam of the lighthouse on the corner mingled with claps of thunder and the rattling of rigging. At 4am we were dozing uneasily when there was a thud by Lucinda's left ear which vibrated through the boat. Rushing on deck we could see a boat which had dragged its anchor. It had drifted back onto the rocks, swung sideways, slipped behind another boat and hit us. That took a while to untangle. We were firmly in place but on both sides of us boats were bobbing and swinging around uncertainly. In daylight we could see that the damage appeared to be superficial with a couple of gouges out of the fibreglass. The French boat that came adrift was made of steel and bounced harmlessly off the rocks. He's heading to the Canaries and across the Atlantic so we'd better sort it out while we are both here. Later our friends Clare and Gareth on Jalfrezi arrived, a pleasant surprise. We went ashore to see a man riding a donkey. There were performing horses somewhere but we couldn't find them. Tonight more horses and more hazelnut throwing. In the meantime more and more boats arrive and the town is heaving with excitable youth and rotund grannies wearing St Joan t shirts, hats and neckerchiefs.

22nd June

Looking from the dinghy it was clear we had a tangle of fishing net wrapped round the propellor. Problem solved at the cost of two beers, and I didn't even get wet. A young Spanish guy staying in the villa behind us dived down and cut it free. In the evening we took the dinghy into the harbour, explored, had a drink and ate dinner. We found out more about the festival of St Joan. The guide says "It is important to know that the hazelnut throws ... Have nothing in common with a war or a battle. The tradition comes from an act of friendship or wooing. Therefore, the hazelnuts must be thrown gently and without the intention of harming the others". It also informed us that ",,, there is no need to urinate in the streets". "Going with small children or prams is dangerous" (is that a general statement or one specific to the fete?) And, once again "Throw the hazelnuts affectionately". The nut throwing is not until Monday. We'll have to stay to see that.

21st June

Lucinda wanted to go to Minorca so here we are. Another 35 miles completed. We are in Ciudadela. The marina itself is surrounded by the town centre. We are in the narrow Cala leading to the harbour. We anchored in the channel and took two lines ashore to keep our stern near the rocks behind us. From here I can see the centre of the town. A bit later we will take the dinghy in to see what attractions there are. The Pilot book is quite enthusiastic. Unless we are moved on we will probably stay for two or even three nights. However, unfortunately, we appear to have got something round the starboard propellor as we were coming in. This may mean a dive under the boat, something I was hoping never to have to do.

20th June

Last night was at anchor in a narrow deep cove. We were close in with a kedge anchor to limit our swing. We were fine all day bobbing comfortably a few metres from a sheer rock face. With darkness the rock seemed ever nearer, looming above us in the moonlight. Perhaps I should have anchored further out. Lucinda and I both had a fretful and sleep deprived night fearing that the anchor might drag again. In the morning light everything once again was tranquil and we hadn't budged from where we started off. I received a text with the tragic news from Brazil about England. We have now rounded the north west tip of Mallorca. As we turned the corner the dramatic cliffs, caves and coves gave way to open beaches, low hills and blocks of hotels and flats. We're back in civilisation. We've anchored behind the point de la Avanzada, opposite the Puerto De Pollensa.

19th June

We're anchored by the Torrented de Pareis. This is one of the most visited sights in Mallorca. We anchored this morning in a desolate and deserted bay. High cliffs surround us, a dribble of a stream (the torrent) drips in to the sea across the pebble beach. We took the dinghy round the corner into another arm of the bay. Here there are 7 self service restaurants and a landing stage. We walked back to where we had anchored through two tunnels cut in the cliffs. While we were walking back the coaches and boats started to arrive and by early afternoon the place was a heaving mass of mainly German tourists. We were joined in the anchorage by an assortment of yachts and motor boats. Nearby, youth were dive bombing into the sea from a rock. We had lunch ashore and spent the afternoon chilling. Everyone, apart from a boat or two, will be gone by 6 pm. Sadly all the bars will be shut and there is no internet. Good luck England. I will have to wait until tomorrow to find out how they get on.

18th June

Well, what an exciting day. Lucinda woke me at 3am. The wind was screaming round the hulls, lightning was blasting nearly overhead, horizontal rain was buffeting us and a confused medley of horns, sirens and thunderclaps rent the air. A small boat was a few feet off our side. When we had gone below she had been 100 metres behind us. We had dragged our anchor, and we weren't the only ones. While I managed the engines Lucinda went forward in her light nightclothes to raise the anchor. She came back to the cockpit soaked and shivering uncontrollably like a demented beaver. I managed to avoid hitting anything in the confusion and we got the anchor down again. One yacht was motoring through the melee and others were relaying heir anchors. Suddenly the wind came at us from the reverse direction and all the boats slewed round to face the other way. After about an hour it settled down and I kept watch for another hour or so. We awoke pretty knackered in the morning to see all the boats around us bobbing tranquilly as though nothing had happened.

We then took he tram into the town of Soller and from there a train to Palma. Soller is completely enclosed by mountains. The train grinds it way up towards the sea and around in a wide arc to face inland. After 15 minutes it enters a tunnel from which it emerges 10 minutes later on the other side of the mountains. Palma was a big tourist town with a cathedral and other historic buildings. We had a quick look round before having a great tapas lunch and heading back. Time for a snooze, supper on the boat and planning for tomorrow's journey.

17th June

We pushed off early having no desire to step ashore. The bay was lined with apartments and hotels and disco thud gently pounded from the shore as we went to sleep. Today we headed west and then north along the inhospitable west coast of Mallorca. There is only one harbour on this coast and few precarious anchorages. Th scenery is stunning with rows of hills descending in shades of grey towards the horizon. The occasional dwelling clings to the rock face. Tall mountains loom inland above the sea cliffs while below caves have been hollowed out by the restless sea. We looked at an extraordinary anchorage hidden behind a rock jutting into the sea. We are now in Soller anchored among boats from England, France and Holland. We will take a tram into the town and perhaps a train tomorrow to Palma. This place merits more than a fleeting overnight visit.

16th June

We're in Mallorca (Majorca?) anchored in Cala De Santa Ponsa. We motor sailed most of the way. Winds were taking us to the eastern tip of the island but as the day went on they came round to the north and we made our intended destination. Sitting here at anchor with zero wind is quite a contrast from a few hours ago when we were wearing life jackets and warm tops bouncing our way to windward in 25 knots of apparent wind.

15th June

Woke up feeling slightly nauseous. Was it the lamb for supper last night or England's World Cup loss. It was the boat side on to a swell. Almost all the other boats had gone sometime in the night. The wimps. I couldn't handle breakfast on the boat so we went to the shore surfing onto the beach in the dinghy. Although there was a wicked swell there was little wind so we decided to see if the next bay was a bit smoother. It wasn't. We thought of heading to Mallorca. In our way was a big black cloud. Suddenly the wind picked up gusting at 35 knots. OK message received, back to our bay. Actual winds bear little resemblance to forecast. We'll stay the night and head to Mallorca tomorrow unless it looks really miserable.

14th June

We took a day off. Morning bus to the other side of the Island. Back for a late lunch. Snooze, swim, cocktails, supper and footie.

June 13th

View from the restaurant balcony. Spain have just scores from a penalty

13th June

We're in Portinax on the north east corner of Ibiza. The World Cup has starts. We saw most of the opening game last night. San Antonio is party central. Packs of assorted youth roamed the street at night, some grotesque, others attractive. The bigger the thighs the scantier the clothes. Big girls with elfin friends. Tattooed blokes with weedy mates. And everywhere tempting invitations to one club or another.

It's another world here. A small bay with a half dozen boats at anchor, a handful of restaurants and a few shops. Internet and the football on TV make this place close to heaven.

12th June

Not that it's boring but; woke to sunshine, pulled on shorts, motored and sailed 9 miles, dropped anchor, had lunch. Much the same as the previous days. However slight variation today as we are in San Antonio which is one of the three places on Ibiza with a marina. That meant we could fill up with diesel, and there are shops and restaurants and night life. There is also plenty of room to anchor within the bigger harbour. Everyone says it gets really busy but so far no problems.

11th June

We are picking our way round the north coast of Ibiza. As we nosed out of our anchorage Greenpeace Rainbow Warrior headed south. We passed Sir Baden Powell at anchor, the boat that is. We poked our nose into a couple of small rocky inlets and we finally decided to drop anchor here, at Cala Tarida. Total distance covered about 10 miles. There are 4 other similar sized boats at anchor and a massive yacht registered in the Cayman Islands. Where are they? I can see at least 5 restaurants on shore, some extraordinary paddle boats with inbuilt water slides. Someone is getting very wet attempting to master a water jet flying device. We are planning on eating out tonight. The anchor and chain are clearly visible through the ice green sea. Where are the famous Ibiza clubs? Not here.

10th June

Last night we ate ashore at the beachfront restaurant. Today we slowly motored (diesel needs husbanding) north to Ibiza. We are anchored in the shadow of two British yachts. One is 46m long, the other 56m. There is a fancy lunch place on the beach. No room for us and the prices were astronomic. So I had a Magnum and we had lunch on the boat. We'll stay here for the night.

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9th June

This is more like it. A slow drift downwind for 6 miles to anchor on sand in a small bay on Formentera with crystal clear emerald water and a small bar ashore. At 13:00 we were the 5th boat here. Looking around at 15:30 there are now 29 craft from small motor boats to several mega yachts of more than 100 feet. I wonder how many will stay the night. The water maker is now working and the solar panels are topping up the batteries. As long as the baked beans last we could stay here for ever.

8th June

We've made the next great leap. Getting to Formentera was dead easy. Flat seas, 4 hours of sailing and then motoring all the way. We're secured to a buoy off Espalmador which abuts Formentera. No anchoring here but still space. However more boats along this strip than we've seen outside of a marina. If only the water were warmer I'd be swimming.

7th June

Formentera here we come - well not exactly. The forecast was light winds and smooth seas. We were up and on our as dawn broke and back on at anchor by 9:30. As we left the shelter of our anchorage we could see that the forecast was way off. Winds of 30 knots gusting 35 were sweeping round the headland. I was certain it would ease off as we got away from land. An hour later the wind was persistent and constant. Decision time. Do we press on for a further 55 miles or turn back to the sunny anchorage with restaurant on the beach?

5th June

Last night at anchor was a bit uncomfortable. There was a swell; not the kind to rock us to sleep. The thud from the on shore disco vibrated through the water and keeping time with the water slopping in the tank by my right ear. After breakfast we headed north east towards Calpe. There was no wind but a perplexed sea throwing a big swell at us. It was tedious and unpleasant. In mid afternoon it abruptly became unpleasant and exciting as a strong easterly wind suddenly brewed. With a reef in the mainsail we head butted the waves making up to 7 knots. Lucinda said 'this isn't what I signed up for' and we diverted to Altea some 12 miles short of our target. Although it is a big fishing harbour and marina they said there wasn't room for us. Decision made we anchored in shelter just outside where we will stay.

4th June

The incredible journey, part 2, 2014.

We got back yesterday, bought gas and a phone card. Today we watered up, filled with diesel and headed out at noon. We didn't go far. We're at anchor just off the tiny island of Tabarca. It used to be pirate stronghold. Now it's three narrow streets, a tiny harbour, a handful of restaurants and day time tourists. We are all alone. The other 4 boats who anchored here have all gone home. The north side is sheltered but a hundred metres away on the other side of the island the palms are bent over and white horses are crashing ashore.

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