Balearic Islands, Mallorca and Menorca

Mallorca : 14 June 07
‘There’s a long-standing  Spanish joke about a mythical fifth Balearic Island called Majorca (English spelling) inhabited by an estimated 8 million tourists a year’-  ‘ The Rough Guide to Spain’ How true!! Most of us don’t even know how to spell or pronounce it correctly!
We had a deadline for heading to Mallorca, which was useful in a way, as we may not have left Ibiza otherwise! Our friend Peter was flying into Palma for a couple of days, so we needed to find a peaceful anchorage and a meeting point that was not too far from the airport. Last time he visited us in Galicia and we still feel guilty that it cost him 120 euros each way in a taxi from the airport. Hence, we were keen to make it somewhat easier for him this time around.
We sailed into Puerto de Andraitx which is protected from all directions except southwest – of course the swell from the SW was already starting to work its way into the bay ahead of the expected winds as we arrived. We were uninspired by the port and decided to try and find something a bit more peaceful for Peters last couple of days of freedom for some time (Small life-changing Diblet on it’s way in 2 months time!) This was not so easy, as everywhere around Palma faces south and the forecast wind direction for 5 days was SE, S, SW, S, SE ! Palma itself is a no-go as it is full and expensive.
We pulled into Santa Ponsa for an uncomfortable night of rolling, as the swell just worked its way round the corner of the bay. We sought relief from seasickness ashore, only to find a hideous overdeveloped, predominantly English egg and chips culture. We absolutely hated it, and only returned to our oscillating home when we could really bear it no longer!  However, it served its purpose as a crew pick-up place, and as soon as Peter was aboard the next morning, we were lifting up the anchor to be on our way.
We headed for Cala Portals in the Bay of Palma, solely for the reason that it appeared to offer some small protection from the southerly swell. It also offered excellent swimming, peaceful nights once the tourist boats went home and the most outrageous nudist beach yet!! Of course the boys were quite content here and were happy to spend the whole weekend attached to the binoculars or plopping in for a cool down swim. The small bay that we had chosen to anchor had a beach that was wall-to-wall, or rock-to-rock, naked, bronzed sun-worshippers. Not only that, but as anything goes in the Balearics, naked-lesbian-lilo-cavorting barely raised an eyebrow – not sure about what else it raised – best leave that subject alone!! The only shore-side entertainment was an expensive daytime restaurant – thanks Pete for shouting us poor live-aboards a meal. It was fun to pick a path between the towels and whatever else on the beach – there was no natural path across the beach to the restaurant and there was nowhere to look but down, hoping not to trip over anything hanging in the way !!
Well, Peter sure got his get-away-from-it-all cala experience, but not sure it was good for the old men’s blood pressure!!

Moving swiftly on :  we pulled into Palma harbor to see if we could get a berth of any sort, but it lived up to it’s reputation of busy, expensive, full and not that comfortable anyway. Peter went off to his flight home, and we went to watch the super-yacht regatta in the bay – what a deal !!
We thought the modern 4-masted ship was only a spectator until they came in on starboard to the windward mark and caused the spectator boats to scatter, as they forced the small (!)  super-yacht (120 foot plus) to overstand the mark. We watched from a safe distance, amongst the other relative superyachts – including those with helicopters for tenders.

After this excitement we motored on to Puerto Andraitx to see if it was more welcoming second time around. We spoke to Roamer on the way by radio and they were up for heading to the same place.
Well, the swell had gone, and all was quiet, but we had no less than 8 anchoring attempts, including changing to a different type of anchor  -  before moving halfway out of the bay, well beyond the protection of the breakwater – we might as well have been back in Ibiza!! At the end of 40m of chain, we decided that we were unlikely to drag very far, and let’s face it, where we were there was no-one to drag onto!! Roamer got in first time, but later regretted their decision to move closer to the town – after several anchoring attempts. For future reference – stay close to the starboard buoys for best holding.
Up early the next morning due to anchor worry – we stocked up in the excellent supermarket and headed up to the north of the island – reputed to be of outstanding natural beauty and a world away from Magaluf and other Majorcan resorts of the south.
Puerto Soller                          
The north coast of Mallorca is absolutely stunning, truly naturally beautiful and completely undeveloped. We pulled into a semi-circular natural bay at Puerto de Soller. This is a very protected anchorage, the only harbor of refuge in 50 miles of tramontana-facing, rugged inhospitable coast.
We plopped our anchor in, it held perfectly 1st time and we knew that Soller wanted us to stay! The main town of Soller is set 2 miles away from the port – a first defence against pirate attacks of old. It is visited best by vintage tram. At the end of the tramway one can take the Victorian electric railway to Palma,crossing through and over the mountainous hills, orange, lemon and olive groves with breath taking scenery.We caught the early morning tram with the school kids off to school with their backpacks, and the hikers, who get dropped off early in the morning at the top of the mountain and walk down – very sensible.

Palma was very hot, despite the sea breeze, dusty and expensive, but lovely. You have to be very very careful where you eat and drink. The places in the backstreets where a few old Spanish people congregate are the best bet, but when you are hot and thirsty and standing outside a roadside restaurant/bar that serves big beers it’s easy to just sit down and order large beer. Stuart got more than he bargained for in the way of a litre of beer – costing an unbelievable €12.95 – even he said it didn’t taste so good when he knew what it cost! A litre of same in the supermarket is 1 euro.

Palma has the most amazing food market that we have ever seen :

We stayed in Soller for some days, as it is very pretty and we needed to be somewhere for our friend Rick to join us. There can’t be many more impressive approaches to arrive at your holiday accomodation– plane, taxi, Victorian train through the mountains, vintage tram, dinghy.

Rick soon discovered one of the ways we fill our time – it took the best part of a day wandering around in the heat searching for wifi internet and a television screen to watch the developing drama of the Americas cup final series-  NZ challenging the  Swiss for the cup that they stole, I mean won, when we were in Auckland 4 years ago.
While we were in Puerto Soller we experienced the strange ‘seiche’ that occurs around the Balearics. The seiche was recently brought to everyones attention in a yachting monthly article from a couple who had their yacht in Cuitadella in Menorca a while back – without warning the water level in the harbour dropped by a couple of meters, leaving fishing boats high and dry on the mud and pulling boats from their moorings, then followed by the sudden rushing in and out of water from the port causing much damage to the moored yachts. We did not suffer anything like this in Soller, but the boats rotated around their anchors in strong currents swishing through the bay. We lost an oar from the dinghy where it was tied to the end of the pontoon while we were ashore – a current must have pushed it under the end of the pontoon and ripped it off. We spent the night disentangling ourselves from 2 other yachts who had both anchored too close, and as there was no wind, and strong currents pushing us all over the place we frequently found ourselves attached to the other boats. At daybreak we pulled in some chain to pull ourselves clear of the 2 yachts, and then found we were dragging swiftly across the bay – we couldn’t really understand this as we still had 15m of chain out – and this should hold us with no wind. We pulled the anchor up and then understood the problem – the constant circling in the night had would the chain around the flukes of the anchor and tripped the anchor out. We cleared the whole mess and went and anchored somewhere else for a couple of hours kip.

No-one knows what causes the seiche – I recently read something by Rod Heikell who proposes that it occurs when a strong current driven by strong winds from different directions converge between islands – of course in the med this can be at some distance from where it is blowing – there is no tide to counteract the effects of the currents, so they travel unopposed for some distance.
We filled the water tanks uneventfully at the superyacht quay for €4 and set off to Cala Engossaubas on the south coast of the NE peninsula of the island. It still feels weird to watch your anchor set in the sand 25 feet below. We had a swim in beautiful warm, clear, jellyfish-free water, had some lunch, and with an iffy forecast we moved into the bay of Puerto de Pollensa.

On the way out of the cala in the main channel I saw a large black fin appear for 5 seconds and slowly disappear never to emerge again – I looked in all the books we have on board and I could not make it match anything other than a shark ! Eek!

Pollensa is tucked so far down the end of a large bay that the anchorage is protected from most directions. We anchored successfully in the weed here, although others (Moyle Rose and Roamer) had some trouble getting their anchors to set.
 Ashore, we found an English owned internet café for Rick, and they agreed to show the Americas cup for us in the afternoon. NZ won that day, so we all got very drunk to celebrate. Unfortunately we also picked up some kind of stomach bug there. Pollensa was a nice buzzy town, but full of tourists, so we were quite happy to move on to Menorca from here - on an Americas cup rest day of course!!

Menorca : 28 June 2007
First stop Cuitadella. This long narrow inlet is surrounded by an ancient fortified town, used by Romans, Moors, and raided by Turks. It is a very impressive little port where passenger ferries just fit in the gap, causing lots of wash to the boats moored along the sides. It is amazing to see these ferries turn around in a gap just a few feet wider than their length – I wouldn’t have wanted to have been the first captain to have to try it! As we motored around the port lights came on and we were shuffled off to tie up in a tiny cala opposite the yacht club – which has been turned into a small marina with lazy lines. No-one is allowed to be at large in the port when the ferry is coming or going.

Once tied up and the ferry had gone past, we decided to stay here the night anyway as it was to be Rick’s last night with us. It was the first time for one month that we had paid any mooring fees, as we had managed to anchor everywhere. It was €40 per night, no power, water or facilities, and you had to use your own dinghy to go ashore at the yacht club, where you could pay more to have a shower. It was very nice to sleep properly at night – knowing that you are tied to the land. At anchor, there is always the possibility that your own anchor will drag, or more likely that someone elses will, and they will drag into us.
Despite our continuing stomach bugs we enjoyed a fine meal at a quayside restaurant . The old town is a real joy to wander amongst the tiny streets. Menorca has a different feel than Ibiza and Mallorca – it seems to have kept its soul ! It is very Spanish (well Menorcan really!) and the tourist trade is more relaxed and up market.
After seeing Rick off in his taxi, and another restful night tied ashore, we headed around the north of the island next, to Cala Algayerens, beautiful undeveloped beach with no shore facilities at all. It was great swimming and we gave the boat a good clean, to clear off the city dust that had accumulated. It was the weekend, so next day every Spanish person with a small motor boat came to anchor in the bay – there was room for everyone though so it was no problem. We estimated 120 boats were there in the day. At night they mostly went home, and about 8 boats were left to enjoy the peace and quiet.

We were out of mobile phone signal here, and with no internet. We had a navtex forecast which gave strong northerly winds, and in the morning the swell had started to build in the entrance to the cala. One by one the boats headed out and we went back to the South east of the island. We had a fantastic sail in 20knots of wind – we have had the best sailing in the Balearics of anywhere so far.
Cuitadella was closed due to 1m water oscillations, which we assume to be another seiche. So we headed on around to Cala Covas on the south side. It is reputed to be the most spectacular cala of the Balearics, containing nearly 150 caves, some of which are prehistoric, and some still inhabited by hippies (when the warden is not around to shoo them off) It is a tiny cove with many rocks just under the water near the edge, so it required a complicated manoevre to fit into a slot amongst the few other yachts here. After circling for some minutes to prepare all lines, fenders, dinghy with oars,  and anchor. First we dropped the anchor into a sand patch in the centre of the cala, and reverse into a spot, allowing chain to run out and stopping within a metre of the rocks. Then I launched the dinghy and rowed lines ashore to find suitable rocks to tie them to, before Stu pulled the lines in and kept us pulled off the underwater rocks. All this has to be done as quick as possible to avoid being blown onto the other yachts. We executed it all without embarrassment, and settled in for a very quiet night. Again, no facilities, bars, no mobile phone signal, but Navtex still worked so we knew that we only had one night here before we had to start seeking shelter from strong winds again.
It is a very spooky place at night – surrounded by all those dark caves – we were glad to be in the company of several other yachts – although there was no danger at all.

We contemplated a visit to Cova d’en Xoroi,  a bar and restaurant built into natural caves halfway up the cliffs, but we needed to move on the next day. The swell was already starting to enter the cala and the dinghy was being bumped into the rocks as I went in to untie the lines.

 Cova d’en Xoroi from the sea

With strong winds coming, we headed for the natural harbor that the French and English fought for many times over – Mahon.  You can see why everyone wanted to own it – it is deep, large, very well protected from all sides. We had heard several horror stories about Mahon, but we’re pleased to find them unfounded. The harbour authorities manage all the buoys (€17/night) and pontoon islands (€70/night we think), and the club nautico charge a fortune for a space on the quay, but there is no need to bother with any of this because there is a very fine anchorage in Cala Taulera under the fortifications of La Mola in a circular bay with 2 beaches, 2 small entrances, and well protected from the wind from any direction, and with good holding in weedy sandy mud. It takes about 20-30 minutes by dinghy to reach the quay, so shopping and internet are a whole day event, and the best supermarket is at the top of the hill. You have to have eyes in the back of you head on the trip ashore in case a huge cruise ship slides silently up behind you!

A cruise ship slides past us as we cross the channel by dinghy

Cala Taulera

The anchorage is full of liveaboard yachts, so the entertainment at night is provided by one or other boat. Water is easily available from a small water pontoon island - a 50c coin supplies 50 litres of water. Diesel is available at the club nautico, avoiding the beginning and end of the day and the weekends when all the small power boats queue up, and if there is a luxury motor boat filling up, just go off and do something else for and hour!
Here we watched the last of the Americas cup races and when we got back to the boat, the Team NZ flag was flown at half mast. The Swiss had sadly managed to keep their ill-gotten gains.
As we are anchored just off the beach for the entrance to the Fort Isabel II on La Mola island, it beckoned an exploration. It has only been open to the public for a couple of years, previously being populated by the Spanish army, and housing a prison for those opposed to the Franco regime. The fort itself was built to repel the French (who wanted the port as a refuge between France and Algeria) and the English ( who wanted it as a base between Malta and Gibraltar). It was very successful, as once built, it was never attacked, and its cannons were never fired in anger. The architecture is fascinating, every stone hand-carved and every feature perfectly aligned. It is a work of art, particularly the galleries where soldiers armed with rifles could defend the double moat from a land based attack. Looking through the doors of these rooms, is like looking in an infinity mirror. It also house a 15 inch Vickers battery cannon; last test-fired in 1991, the Mahon residents were warned prior to firing, as it made their windows rattle! . It can penetrate 36cm of armour plate at 23km. Given the number of French and English boats in the anchorage, you could forgive them for thinking themselves under threat again!

We have been here for two weeks, with friends on ‘Will You’, ‘Roamer’ and ‘Moyle Rose’, and have met lots of others here. The kayaks were unpacked and have explored most of the calas around the port, including one that the pilot book indicated might be suitable for small yachts – small kayaks maybe, but not yachts!
We sat out our first gale at anchor here- which was entirely uneventful except for a couple of French boats dragging their anchors in the early hours. Quelle Surprise!

We made a trip up to town together for the evening to see the fishing boat blessing festival – there were lots of boats accompanying the 3 fishing boats out to the harbour entrance, but none of the expected dancing and music on the quay – unusual for Spain, they tend to celebrate everything with some fireworks at least.

Kate tries to attract Peter Stringfellow’s attention –but he was just playing it cool!

 

Most people are here waiting for the right weather slot to make the 200 mile trip to Sardinia. It is an excellent place to stock up and get weather forecasts etc. When we arrived here we realized that we had only been in the Balearics for 4 weeks, and we were already at the point  closest to Sardinia. We decided that we had been hurrying through and should slow down a bit and just enjoy being here. Two weeks later we are still in Mahon, but then so are Roamer, Will You and Moyle Rose – it’s just too good to leave. Roamer and Will You will eventually leave for Sardinia from here when the weather is settled again. Both boats have target destinations for the autumn that are earlier than ours for different reasons. We realize that we are able to take a bit more time to enjoy the island, and hope to visit the calas on the north east side before we move on east.
We had had good reason to stay here for these 2 weeks – the weather just has not reached its summer stability yet – probably something to do with the same weather systems ravaging the UK at the moment, the tail end is upsetting the normal Med highs and lows– at least it isn’t raining here though! We couldn’t think of a more pleasant harbor to be anchored in while the winds sort themselves out, and more pleasant company to share it with.
17th July 2007

Addaya and Fornells
‘Moyle Rose’ , ‘Roamer’ and ‘Will You’ moved on within a couple of days of writing this, so,  friendless and partied out with headed for some R&R round the north tip of Menorca.
First stop Addaya – some local knowledge had prepared us for the dogleg entrance through the rocks – it is Ok once you are inside the deep wooded cala but only a fool would attempt it for the first time in any northerly wind or swell. Luckily it was flat calm for us. We motored slowly up through the packed moorings, expecting the water to shoal well before there was any space to anchor, but actually there is plenty of room to anchor in a perfectly peaceful setting, beyond the moorings, deep inland almost isolated from the world. You could happily spend months in here, without any knowledge of the sea conditions outside. It was a beautiful place to rest and swim in water at 30+ Degrees, but shoreside activities were soon exhausted. On the quay close to the anchorage/marina the road leads through neat little plots and bungalows reminiscent of a characterless suburban new town, leading to a couple of purpose-built holiday bar-restaurants including the ubiquitous Irish bar, complete with Shamrock symbol. A somewhat longer trip ashore by dinghy takes you almost out of the Cala and then back in to a second bay to the old fishing quay, complete with toothless grannies, dogs and children. The atmosphere somewhat more attractive to us, the Spanish tourist/English tourist divide was evident in the differences between the two sites.
After a couple of days to chill we headed on west a few miles to Fornells. Our friend Rick had told us a lot about the fabulous sailing school (Menorca Sailing) at Ses Salines at the head of this large cala, so we headed up and anchored off the school for several days, while the wind blew it’s now customary 30 knots during the day. At least we had a lot of entertainment watching both novices and experts practicing their windsurfing and dinghy sailing – feeling slightly jealous that we couldn’t join in. The kit and the training both seemed to be superb, so if anyone is looking for a watersports holiday option – this comes highly recommended. And I’m not just saying that because we used their wifi internet connection for free for a few days!!
A trip ashore to Fornells town was rewarded by it being the weekend of the San Antoni festival. Our understanding of this is a bit patchy, but it seems to be a longstanding elaborate and exciting spectacle of horseman/woman-ship and bravado by the participating spectators.
The boisterous stallions dance into a packed sawdust ring, to an ever-repeating tune played by a very long-suffering youth brass-band.  The horses are goaded by the crowd, and encouraged by the riders to rear-up on their hind-legs as they dance, surging through the mass of people, so that the courageous ones can attempt to  touch the ceremonial breastplate of the horse by diving under it – this being good luck. Survival of this act could be considered very good luck, whether it brings additional fortune is debatable. The Red-cross were on hand to deal with crushing and stampeding injuries, but amazingly we saw none. A real blow for Health and Safety and Risk Assessment specialists across the world! 

After updating our website, and waiting for a weather slot, we were ready for the 200 mile crossing to Sardinia. Spanish books away and Italian books at the ready!!
Alas Med-weather usually means that you wait for a forecast of no wind, so as to avoid the Golfe du Lion gale leftovers. So we motor-sailed for 33 hours and arrived at Porto Conte on the north west coast of Sardinia, looking forward to a new language, culture and island.

Balearic Islands, Formentera and Ibiza

Formentera and Isla Espalmador, 31 May 2007
At last we have arrived at our first cruising destination!!! It has nearly taken a year, but we have seen such a lot along the way. It took 5 attempts to get our anchor to hold in the weedy bottom of the anchorage. Finally it bit and we could get some sleep after our night crossing, and relax for the day.
Early next morning the wind came round and put us on a lee shore (normally you always try to anchor so that you are being blown off the land – not onto it, so that if the anchor does not hold you do not end up on the beach/rocks/mud!) so we upped anchor and headed to Isla Espalmador – a beautiful anchorage in a bay of a privately owned island. The anchor held on the 3rd attempt – things are looking up! We found ‘Will You’ at anchor here too. The water is clear with turquoise patches over the sandy bits. Excellent for swimming.

We had heard and read about some mud pools on the island, so were not surprised to see small groups of people ,often naked , heading from the beach into the sand dunes, then similar sized groups of very black humans returning to the beach. This ritual is a must do, although I still can’t see why anybody wants to smell like a sulphurous rotting mud swamp for 2 days. People pay a fortune for this mud in exclusive spas!

Our first wedding anniversary was upon us so we decided to head off to another cala that had been recommended to us on Formentera – Cala Sahona. The water here was very clear and absolutely turquoise, and the weather behaved itself so the cala was tranquil. It was really weird to swim around the boat and to clearly see the underwater aspect that you can only vaguely remember from haul outs.

In the evening we headed up to the Mohito bar to watch the sunset. The mohitos (Cuban rum and fresh mint cocktail) had been recommended to us, so despite the absence of a menu or pricelist ordered one each. They slipped down very nicely, so we ordered a second one each. We speculated how much they might cost as we watched the sunset over the bay – oh well what the hell, we’ll have a third one! I went up to pay our bill and being slightly sossled I did not express too much surprise when presented with a bill for 13 euros – what a bargain, I thought. I then glanced up and saw that they had given me the bill for the wrong table, which had had only 2 mohitos! We quickly disappeared into the darkness outside before they realized their error and asked for 26 euros more. We wandered over to the beachside restaurant and decided the menu was too pricey and not apparently great quality and so we agreed that we could cook up something better ourselves on the boat. So we wobbled back to the dinghy on the beach. To our dismay there were a couple of people on the beach coming towards us waving flashlights – we really thought that the bar had rumbled their mistake and come after us for the money. “Ola Ola! Were you in the bar just now?” We could no longer escape so we resigned ourselves that they’d caught up with us. “I lost my bag in the bar and it’s closed now – did you see it anywhere?”  Just some other punters – not an angry proprietor. “No, sorry mate” we said and breathed a huge sigh of relief. So we did get away with  3 for the price of 1 after all.

Ibiza : 4th June 2007
As we didn’t feel we could go back to the same bar a second night we moved on the next morning, and just to be sure that we were off the hook we went a different island. A short hop and we were in Ibiza, and we found ourselves in Cala Yondal with just one other yacht at anchor. There were 2 beach chill-out clubs full of beautiful people. They were playing really good up-to-the-minute chill-out tunes at both bars – unfortunately we were anchored exactly halfway between the two! They were very well behaved and the music finished reasonably early by Ibiza standards.
Next day we moved onto Cala Port Roig – not as pretty or chilled out as Yondal, but a long safe well protected anchorage. Here we met up with Kate and Davy on Roamer and saw them at anchor for the first time – had to have a photo of that, just in case it never happened again. (They must have liked it – they’ve become true cheapskates like us !!) No shore-side entertainment here and not the prettiest cala, so we were on the move again the next day.

Kate and Davey wet their anchor

 The ‘spiritual’ island of Vedra

In tandem with Roamer we gently sailed up the stunningly beautiful coast to Cala Badella, passing between the ‘spiritual’ island of Vedra and the mainland – it didn’t think that it felt particularly ‘spiritual’ but then we hadn’t been up clubbing all night and taking drugs! Ibiza is very cliffy and steep-to so it seems to just rise straight out of the sea. Vedra must make an amazing sight at sunset from the mainland. Cala Badella was pretty much full of mooring buoys, but there was room for boats to anchor around the moorings. After 1 failed attempt to get good holding we picked up a buoy and stayed for 2 nights on it. No-one came to take money or shooed us off – it was probably a private mooring and we were just lucky that the owner had vacated it for a while.
Anchoring
We take our anchoring seriously and that is why we have so many failed attempts. Let me explain that – many yachts just drop their hook any-old how, pile several metres of chain on top of their anchors and stop their engines – often, to be fair they are just stopped for lunch or for the night in a fair-weather anchorage. 15-20knots of wind ( an average sea-breeze) seems to sort them out and they start to drag their anchors, causing havoc amongst the other anchored boats (forgive me – the French appear to be the absolute worst at this – everyone assumes the worst when a French flag appears in an anchorage!)  Being used to anchoring in Brittany in strong tides and in the UK with 180 degree wind-shifts and unexpected gales we take it a bit more seriously – we drop the anchor and slowly drift backwards letting out chain as we go. We put out 3-4 times the depth of water in chain and slowly motor astern to encourage the anchor to bite into the sand/mud/weed/rock. If it bites we then motor astern at half throttle, mimicking the effects of a gale to see if we drift backwards. If don’t move we are happy to sleep well at night (apart from knowing that there is a French boat upwind of us!) If it doesn’t hold like this, we pull it up and start again. Hence, if our anchoring attempts seem to reflect a poor anchor, it is not a fair assumption. It just means we are trying harder to be secure at all times.
Cala Badella was a comfortable combination of small tourist development and un-spoilt beauty. The English family tourism had encouraged competition between the bars, so they were good value and with good services – we found free wifi internet in a beach bar so we stayed all afternoon (working hard  you know! ) for the price of a few beers!

There was a small bonus for Stuart and Davey – a model sunset photo-shoot was taking place just on the rocks to the stern of our boat. We don’t think that Matador was forming the backdrop to their shoot – it wouldn’t have looked proper with the reflection from the binoculars in the background or the long slavering tongues!

Puerto de San Antonio : 8 June 2007
We arrived here well equipped with info as to where to anchor from ‘Huit Huit’ who had spent many seasons here. They were absolutely right and we dropped anchor in good holding inside the green marks but just before where the anchorage proper is marked on the charts. We didn’t expect them, but they arrived a few days later to find us in their favourite spot!
A good safe anchorage was appreciated, as we wanted to experience some night-life here. It is the second club city of Ibiza – two of the big clubs are based here, Paradis and Eden – and there are good bus connections to the real city of clubbing – Ibiza town. Both these options mean that we needed to be comfortable to leave the boat unattended while we spent a good part of the night ashore out of sight of Matador. 
Well we dug our anchor in well as usual and within a few hours the 20 knot test blew up. 5 boats dragged their anchors and ended up in the channel but we were confident that we were safe and sound because we had done the ‘full gale’ test.  Roamer anchored too, and they were well acquainted with San Antonio, having holidayed on the island before. They insisted that we visit the west end of San Antonio – a neon lit strip of bars and clubs bursting with lobster-red loud-mouthed Brits on cheap boozed-up holidays. This is the smelly armpit, zitty chin, sweaty crotch of Ibiza but luckily the town planners seem to have contained it all within a small area. We took advantage of cheap beer and sat and people watched for many hours – fascinating anthropological study !

Along the sunset strip the up-market chill out bars were an improvement – the original Café del Mar still exists here amongst several competitors- we just felt out of place – not on holiday, not burnt bright red, not living or working on the island, too old and frankly couldn’t wait to move on.
As our first San Antonio hangover waned we popped on the bus to Ibiza town, arriving about 5pm. We walked all around the impressive fortifations of Ibiza, the Dalt Vila, climbing to the highest vantage point enjoyed by Greeks, Phoenicians, Carthaginians, Romans, Vandals, Moors and Catalans as they successively ruled the island. The evening heat hangs heavily as you slowly ascend the many steps to the top of the old town. We were glad that our hangovers had precluded an earlier start !

Later we sought out the nightlife, exploring the hip gay area of the old town, the pre-clubbing bars with their touts trying to encourage you in – to overpriced beers and over-hyped transvestite parade. San Antonio had been a good practice run and we got off without too much ripping off, heading home on the night-bus at 3.30am. We could have spent 30 euros each on a ticket to one of the big clubs just for the experience, but it was still early in the season and any atmosphere in the pre-club bars appeared forced, false and directed at tourists with too much money to spend.

We’re sure that the foam parties and water parties are great fun if you are part of the crowd, in the mood, slightly drugged (no-one could afford to be drunk at 10 euros minimum for a small bottle of beer!)  and younger than us !

Before leaving San Antonio we decided to fill our water tanks. 540 litres of water in our tanks seems to last us around 2-3 weeks if we are sensible , so it is not too much of a chore to fill the tanks when it is convenient. However, filling with water in San Antonio involved queuing in the office, presenting ship’s papers, captain’s passport, a 30 minute time slot, a dirty oily quay, no cleats to tie to, a special hose fitting only available in the Balearics, and 4.35 euros in exact change, if you please – but for the freedom of anchoring where and when we want for free, it is a small price to pay and only a mornings toil.
We headed for the less-developed north of the island and enjoyed spectacular scenery again before anchoring in Cala San Miguel. This was another beautiful cala with a combination of laid back charm and Thomson holidays apartments. A small supermarket met our immediate needs. The inflatable kayaks came out for some exercise. Roamer joined us for a surprisingly good Chinese meal and we were happy bunnies indeed.

We were finding that some calas would suffer from an invasion of jellyfish in their hundreds for a day, but often the following day they were gone. A sort of jellyfish cruise thing going on maybe, like the huge cruise ships that spend 12 hours in port, disgorge 2000 people into the town and then depart as quickly as they came. We quickly learnt that you do not swim if the little evil b***ds are in town. They certainly do not try to get out of your way, and they have chemical warfare knowledge second to none. We thought we’d cracked a new cure, saltwater scrub, antihistamine tablet, hydrogen peroxide to clean, ammonia to neutralize the sting followed by a burn-jel dressing to relieve the intense heat. This resulted in an impressive immediate cure, but unfortunately it just lay dormant for 7 days and came back just as bad as if no action had been taken. A month later the skin is only just healing. Alas global warming is raising the average sea temperature, leading to huge increase in the numbers and size of jelly fish, and their natural predators, tuna and turtles are  in decline.
If only we could wage war on mosquitos and jellyfish instead of innocent people.

Our last stop in Ibiza was Cala Portinatx, an attractive cala with sane tourist development. Along with Roamer we found an excellent Asian restaurant at the top of the town overlooking the bar – not cheap, but excellent quality – and there was a swimming pool on the terrace in case anyone fancied a quick dip between courses. It was a real treat to enjoy a meal like this- the sort of meal we would have had at least weekly back in the UK- but we can afford to do this occasionally now that we are not paying for overnight marinas. We love swinging to our own anchor for free– long may it continue!!

A 50 mile passage took us to Mallorca, we had a target to meet, our friend Peter was about to arrive in Palma and we needed to be on our way. Ibiza was far more than loud clubs and bars, it also had many beautiful calas and spectacular scenery.
You’ll have to take our word for it, but this is a sperm whale we sighted between Ibiza and Mallorca. It jumped out of the water 5 times, getting a bit closer to the boat each time. It was an amazing sight but we were quite relieved when he stopped getting closer and disappeared, just in case it hadn’t seen us!

Costa del Sol, Spain

We had been warned about the high cost, lack of berths and indifference to English yachties on the Costa del Sol, so we had planned to zip through this part of the coast without too many stops.
7th May 2007. Our first scheduled stop was at Estepona, which we thought would be a reasonably priced marina, as we knew several boats that had wintered or stopped overnight there. We tied up alongside the waiting pontoon, which claimed to have 24 hour staffing. It was about 7pm and there was no-one to be seen. We wandered around the pontoons – no-one to be found, so we cooked our dinner and planned to spend the night on the waiting pontoon and be gone early in the morning. At 10.30pm the marinero knocked on the side and asked us to fill in his papers and check in. When we found out that it would be €50 for the night we decided to move on briskly and do an overnight passage instead. The mariner was kind enough to let us eat our dinner before we left and turn a blind eye to our short stay on the waiting pontoon. A lunch stop here is €25 so we were pleased with his generosity!
We had an uneventful motor along the coast, with virtually no fishing boats, no ships to be seen and a tranquil flat sea. The peace was briefly broken at about 3 am, by the deep sound of a high-speed boat that showed on radar at 1 mile but had no lights. It disappeared quickly into the night and off radar. Drug boat, we both agreed and Stu went back to sleep and I continued my watch. The lights of Marbella and Malaga winked past in an unbroken line along the coast but by morning we were sailing past the fairly undeveloped coastline of Almeria, still showing the benefit of starvation of development by Franco in the 60s, but now starting to catch up with its neighbouring costas, and the snow-capped Sierra Nevada mountains in the background. We studied the pilot book, and found a reasonably sheltered anchorage at La Herradura. This was close to Almenucar where Laurie Lee witnessed the outbreak of the Spanish Civil war in 1936. We had a restful couple of nights at anchor and our first swim of the season. The water was already warmer than the UK at its best!

 The Sierra Nevada and Costa de Almerimar

Our own anchorage at La Herradura in fine settled weather

Almerimar : 10-23 May
We next found ourselves at Almerimar marina. We just popped in to find out the costs, preparing ourselves for a quick departure based on the Estepona experience. We were amazed to find it was €9 per night (water and power extra), so we booked in for a couple of nights. This marina has 1000 berths in 3 large basins, surrounded by shops, apartments, beaches, restaurants. It is a boat city, but completely lacks character and atmosphere. We were pleased to be able to get wifi on board the boat, and that there was a huge well-stocked Mercadona supermarket on site. There is also a VHF net broadcast every morning, similar to that of Lagos, so you could keep up to date with events, buy sell and swap gear, and find out a daily weather report. This turned out to be immensely valuable as Cabo de Gata headland is the local nasty to be avoided in bad weather and almost impossible to round in a north easterly due to the sea-state and currents. Almerimar had us hostage for 14 nights in the end, as we waited for the right weather slot to move up the south east coast safely.
A few Lagos boats arrived – Dawn Chaser, Roamer, Birvidik, and we made some new acquaintances – Pam and Dave on ‘Will You’ and Pete and Lyn on “Huit Huit” who were full of useful information.  Pete and Lyn had cruised the Spanish coast and the Balearics several times so we had a pilot book party and made notes in our new pilot book from their suggestions as to where to head for, good anchoring spots and where to pick up water supplies.
A German live-aboard was selling LED lights that he makes up himself to your specification – we had been searching for the right ones for sometime, so we availed ourselves of his services. LED lights use very little power, so they are great as anchor lights, and saloon lights, reading lights etc. If you are anchored and need to watch your power consumption vs. battery charging ability, LED lights are invaluable. All that we needed now was the right light shades …..

David, the weather man, introduced us to a couple of really useful weather sites:
www.inm.es  the Spanish met office website and www.meteosim.com . By studying the weather buoy data we could check whether the sea-state was suitable for departure, avoiding the hassle of leaving, having a nasty day on the water, only to have to return to Almerimar.
We got a lot of jobs done on the boat, varnishing the woodwork and protecting the sails and ropes from chafe – it was a useful and cheap stopover, but finally a weather window developed and we were off like a shot.

We rounded Cabo de Gata in a still lumpy and rolly sea and even managed to sail in light winds. We had decided to head straight out to the Balearic Islands overnight as we were having such a nice sail in 8 knots of wind, with twin head sails poled out and no main sail. At about 2pm Stuart looked behind us and saw the water getting choppier, so we decided to drop the big lightweight hank-on genoa in case the wind speed was on the increase. At this point the Navtex spewed out a gale warning for all areas of the western Mediterranean.
Luckily we got the lightweight genoa packed away and down inside in good time, but no sooner had we done that, we had to wind away the roller-furling genoa bit by bit. The wind swung around to the NW 120 degree swing, and increased to35 and peaked at 45 knots!!!  We were running around closing hatches, and getting the spray hood up as we were being soaked by the spray of the rapidly building sea. This transformation from light wind ghosting to full stormy seas took about 45 minutes, a Mediterranean speciality.  We decided to head into the lee of the mainland, as although we were in no danger, we didn’t know how long these conditions might last. We motored up into the lee of the headland and headed straight into a new cheap marina at Santa Pola, which had been recommended to us by ‘Will You’. We were very thankful that we had not been too far out to sea when this weather came through – it was a salutary lesson as to how quickly the Med weather can change. With no tides to overcome, the sea state changes and builds as rapidly as the wind speed increases, and then only dies away slowly after the wind has stopped.
Santa Pola marina has only just opened and is almost empty.  It was €11 a night, the pontoons very solid and the bathrooms luxurious. We were happy to tie up for a few days – first job being to wash the salt crystals off the outside of the boat.  Santa Pola is a nice town, not touristy, and has Chinese shop warehouses where you can buy almost anything. Every town in Spain and Portugal has a Chinese shop – however small the village –well stocked with all sorts of tat, amongst which you can usually find something useful – a tool, a plastic tray for the fridge, a kitchen utensil. In Santa Pola we found 2B pencils for chart work at 35cents each, and some teak pencil holders for 65 cents, which Stuart is making into LED light shades!  Bargains galore!
Leaving the marina, and heading out from the mainland we had a rough and windy start to the 100 mile passage to the Balearics, thinking – here we go again! – But thankfully the wind moderated after a couple of hours and we motor-sailed overnight. Again it was a very uneventful passage, with just a few ships and fishing boats sighted. We take it in turns to be on watch for 2-4 hours at a time, for short trips overnight this is no problem, as you can catch up on sleep once you arrive.
It took 24 days from Ceuta to reach the Balearic Islands. We were lucky to have anchored in settled weather when possible, and to find a couple of cheap marinas. The marina charges were due to increase to summer rates within a few days of our departure from each place, so we had got in just in time. Will we be so lucky in the Balearics, given all the tales of woe that we have heard from ‘helpful’ souls who wish to fill our heads with all sorts of information?

Spain, Gibralter and Morocco

Ayamonte again
Our arrival in Ayamonte co-incided happily with Semana Santa or Holy Week. The week is celebrated by a series of processions day and night throughout every Spanish town and village. After watching one of the processions from one of the 9 churches in the town of Ayamonte, which doesn’t even warrant its own sentence in the Rough Guide to Spain, we were so impressed with the spectacle that we hatched a plan to go and see Semana Santa in ‘the’ place to see it – Seville. It’s widely reputed that the only accommodation left in Seville in Holy Week is exceptionally expensive, so we planned to travel up by bus (2 hours) in the afternoon of Maundy Thursday, stay up all night as the Spanish do anyway, and travel back the following day. We put a few essentials in a small rucksack and set off on an adventure.
             
An overland intermission in Seville (Maundy Thursday)
On arrival in Seville it soon became apparent that the best bet was just to follow the streams of  people who clearly knew where to head for to see the next procession. It was a great night, interspersed by warm-ups in bars with a few tapas to see us through the night. A hotel would certainly have been a waste of money, as we wouldn’t have seen much of it!
It was lovely to see so many people, many of them teenagers and young adults, genuinely enjoying the spectacle of their religion. As each pasos (processional float) passed by, a reverent hush would descend on the crowd. We walked miles and stood for hours.

One procession we viewed had a full 1,700 participants slowly moving past in various religious costumes from the tall pointed hat brigade to fully armed roman centurion outfits, feathers galore. Daybreak seemed to arrive very quickly. All the kids were still up, in or following the processions, all well behaved, not a single drunk seen all night despite all the bars still being open. We left on the 10am bus, halfway through the 12 hour procession that had started at 2am and would not finish until lunchtime. Despite the rigors of being on their feet all this time, and lugging around heavy (1 Ton) pasos, and the band having been marching and playing throughout the parade and still with 3 hours to go, they were all in remarkably good spirits. For us it was time to take the bus back to Ayamonte for sleep.

Thanks to Wikipedia for the following explanation of Semana Santa in Seville for those interested in the background to the processions. Other Spanish cities have processions; Malaga is apparently the next best to Seville if you are passing through the area at Easter sometime.
‘Holy Week in Seville
Seville arguably holds some of the most elaborate processions for Holy Week. A tradition that dates from Counterreformation times, or even earlier. The "Semana Santa en Sevilla" is notable for featuring the procession of "pasos", lifelike wood sculptures of individual scenes of the events that happened between Jesus' entry in Jerusalem and his burial, or images of the Virgin Mary showing restained grief for the torture and killing of her son. Some of the images are of great antiquity and artistic masterworks. These "pasos" (which usually weigh over a metric tonne) are physically carried on the neck of costaleros (literally "sack men", for its distinctive -and functional- headdress). The "costaleros" (from 24 to 48) are hidden inside the platform of the "paso", so it seems to walk alone. Historically dock workers were hired to carry the "pasos". From 1973 onward, that task has been universally taken over by the members of the confraternities who organize each procession.

The "pasos" are set up and maintained by hermandades and cofradías, religious brotherhoods, confraternities or sodalities, which precede the "pasos" (up to 3) dressed in penitential robes. Some of the processions are near 3000 persons each. In Seville, but for some officials, "costaleros", acolytes and a few other exceptions every participant must wear penitential robes and be hooded. A brass band may accompany the group, playing funereal religious hymns or "marchas" written for the occasion. Some processions are silent with no musical accompaniment. As each procession leaves its home church, called a salida, as well at its return (the entrada) and along the march route there are special extemporaneous songs offered by individuals in the crowd or a balcony. These songs are generically called saetas (arrows).

A total of 58 processions (as of 2007) occur during the week, from Palm Sunday through Easter Sunday morning. On Maundy Thursday there are two sets of processions. One group occurs during the afternoon and evening. The second set begins near midnight and continues until early afternoon on Good Friday. The most famous processions occur this night (the madrugá), including Jesus del Gran Poder, Esperanza - Macarena, and Esperanza - Triana.’

After all the excitement, we returned to Ayamonte to watch the smaller, but nonetheless elaborate processions over the weekend culminating in the colourful and upbeat Easter Sunday parade, where the penitents are not hooded and the ladies join the parade in traditional Andalucian headdresses.

We were ready to move on, having decided to enjoy the Costa de Luz for a while, which is reported to be the last delightful stretch of Spain before the Costas del Sol and Blanca, with glorious beaches around towns that still retain some of their original character.

Isla Christina/Isla Canela
Our first trip was just a few miles up the coast to free us from the tide constraints of the shallows outside Ayamonte. We approached Isla Christina marina, but were told that we were 40cm too long for their marina!!! We went across to Isla Canela in the same harbor, which is an up market apartment complex with absolutely no character at all. At least it was cheap. Just could not wait to get out of there!
Chipiona
Next day we motored 50 miles in desperation to get to Chipiona. When we arrived, I thought that maybe all the people had been abducted by aliens – it was so quiet that nothing stirred! We stayed a couple of days here while we sorted out the phone, and did some shopping. It is a long and boring walk into the town. Once there, it was pleasant enough, the bars cheap and not too touristy. The beaches were lovely, and it had an air of a once popular tourist destination that has got lost along the way and is in a sleepy decline.
Rota
We were soon ready for a move, and 15 miles to Rota was not too strenuous.
Rota is at the north end of the Bay of Cadiz, and is better known for the huge US Naval and air force base opposite the marina. Once inside the marina, the only evidence of the base, was a few helicopter and planes overhead, but they were not too much of a distraction. The old town is lovely in the daytime, with a happy, Spanish feel to it. There’s plenty of shopping and bars to be enjoyed, and a very traditional bodega where you can sample all sorts of sherry from barrels at 40 cents a go. At night however the town was full of loud yanks, drinking and showing off their cars and stereos to young Spanish girls.
There is a chain of government run marinas through Andalucía, (www.eppa.es) which are very cheap (€13.50 per night) and our choice of stop is largely determined by the availability of these marinas at the moment, particularly given our experience the next day….
El Puerto de Santa Maria
Across the Bay of Cadiz we visited a private yacht-club for a change. It was lovely, although in a state of decay. There is a swimming pool there (empty) and tennis courts (full) and a bar on the river (very nice). The town was closed for the afternoon (Saturday), although it was very pleasant. It is where the sherry is brought down from Jerez to be stored and shipped. Fortunately all the bodegas were closed so we couldn’t get into trouble!! The downside of this place is the price - €35 per night – the most expensive yet of the whole trip. The friendly marinero(captain of the port), clearly felt sorry for us paupers, and gave us some freshly caught fish for our supper! And some advice on how to save some marina fee money (by lying!) which we will take up at later opportunities.
We moved to a heavenly anchorage to the west of the river entrance and stayed for free – enjoying the tranquility after all the other boats had gone back to their marinas, leaving us to enjoy the views of the bay all by ourselves.

Puerto America (Cadiz)
We were keen to spend a couple of days in the 3000 year old city of Cadiz. We could have done this by ferry from Rota or Santa Maria, but the last ferries left the town at 8pm, so we would have been unable to experience the nightlife of the city. Instead we approached this marina with some trepidation, as the pilot book could not have been more negative about its charms! It is true that it is in the middle of a building site, and the toilet block is some distance from the visitors berths, but it is cheap, half empty and only a 10 minute walk to the start of the old city and the bus station, with good connections to many other cities. We were very pleased to be here, as within a day our friends Davy and Kate from Roamer had joined us, and the wind started howling out of the Straits of Gibraltar, which it has now done for 7 days making any further progress east very uncomfortable if not nearly impossible. The wind in the Gibraltar straits , gateway to the Med, blows hard either west or east 300 out of 360 days. We couldn’t have been delayed in a nicer place though, and we managed a few trips out on the bus, to Seville again, and to Santa Maria on a day when it was open (and very pleasant!) and many days of wandering the endless ancient streets of Cadiz. Cadiz is one of the oldest cities in Spain and every kind of architecture from roman to new is crammed on the small peninsula. It is an incredible sight, plenty of decaying buildings as a result of the limestone used to build and it’s weakness to the attack of the salt air. There is more restoration going on in this tiny area than I have ever seen. A huge effort to shore up and preserve the front facades whilst completely rebuilding the insides of ancient apartment blocks and historic buildings will ensure that this special city retains its special character for future generations. Steph: My  Spanish is coming on really well, as long as I don’t have to speak to anyone or to understand anything said to me! If we could communicate in writing we would get along just fine…… It’s not helped by the Andalusian accent, which doesn’t include most of the consonants at the end of the words!
While we were enjoying a glass of something cold during a shopping trip one day in Cadiz, we heard lots of car horns and shouting and everyone seemed to be sporting the same yellow scarf. It transpired that this was a parade of cars and people announcing a general strike in the bar of Cadiz the following day. A huge motor parts factory – Delphi - had just gone into liquidation, and the strike appeared to be in support of the workers who had been laid off that day. We were prepared for disruption the next day, and unavailability of transport and services as you would expect in a general strike, but the day of the strike was supported by all workers in the area. Not a single bar, café, shop, office was open for the whole day. A few dispirited tourists wandered the deserted shopping streets, filled with uncollected rubbish. If they were in self-catering accommodation, they had no chance of anything to eat, no entertainment, not a single bar in which to rest. It was a phenomenal display of solidarity amongst the businesses, all content to forego a days business and pay to show their support of the Delphi workers – although to what gain it was we’re not so sure. The small Carrefour supermarket, being French and therefore disinterested opened for a few hours and we were able to stock up on a few supplies, such as beer, wine,  vodka and bread! As there were no bars open in which to rest our weary legs, we just perched ourselves outside the supermarket for a little rest, and had a small can of beer to toast the cause!

At the moment we are waiting for the break in the weather to allow us to get to Barbate to await the right tide and wind to enter the straits. It is interesting to note that a lot of cruisers (many of whom do not seem to leave the marina in Lagos) advised us to lay up in a marina for the winter by November, but at that time, the weather was very benign and settled for 3 months until February. Since we have escaped and been on the move again, it has been the most unsettled weather that we have seen, as fronts and lows track across the south of the peninsula.
Gibraltar marinas are allegedly full so we don’t yet know if we will be able to stop there or not.  We also plan a visit to Ceuta – a small Spanish enclave in Morocco just across the narrow bit of the straits, before tracking as quickly as possible along the Costas to the Balearics.  (23 April 2007). 
Gibraltar
After a day delay leaving Barbate for the easterly to cease, we poked our nose round the edge of the massive tunny net (Fixed Tuna nets forming about a 4 mile funnel across the bay, entrapping and coaxing schools of unsuspecting tuna – and dolphins - into the central trap where they are hauled out). We were headed in company with Roamer the 15 miles south to Tarifa and then east to Gibraltar. The 6 knot easterly that wafted around the coast south of Barbate developed to 23 knots off Tarifa but backed down to about 12 knots by Gib. The forecast was westerly but it just doesn’t always do what is expected. The land mass of Spain and Africa have huge influence on the weather systems here. Luckily an advance call had secured us the so called last berths in Gib marina and we were able to spend a few days exploring around. I can’t say it was fantastic and it was the first place we have seen drunken pub culture, the type that you know to keep one eye open for the start of a drunken fight, since leaving the UK.
The airport is alongside the marina, and when I say along side I do mean the Runway is about 100 yards from the moored boats and if there is an aircraft taking off or landing you are not allowed to go near the end of the runway as there is a real danger of a collision with a plane and a mast.
The thing that every tourist has to do in Gibraltar is go up the rock. Unfortunately the tourist hunters know it as well and they’re all there to take your cash and cart you there. 16 pounds will get you there by minibus, herded from point of interest to monkey to vantage point and back in about an hour, and they do try to sell you their trips. Less expensive is the cable car, at least allowing you the time you choose to spend, 8.50 Pounds each. We are not tight ( yes we are) but we found a route through the botanical gardens and up the road to the nature reserve toll gate, paid 50p for entrance and ascended the cliffs via the Mediterranean Steps, a route of some spectacular views around the south east face of the rock and up to the top. Don’t underestimate the climb though. It took us about 2 ½ hours and we could feel it for several days after. But we saw the monkeys and the views and even got ourselves locked in the top cable car / restaurant station when the Sunday shift went home for the day. We managed to climb around the locked gates and make our decent down the road this time and through the older parts of the city.

A day mooching round the shops where the girls stocked up with knickers and tinned meat from M&S and spirits and English stuff from Safeway’s (Now Morrison’s). Spirits were really cheap but wine is cheaper in Spain. 4 Jars of Vegemite, 500 teabags, Cheddar Cheese, Marmite, Diet Tonic, New Electric toothbrush, and 480 liters of diesel (30% cheaper than Spain) we were done with Gib.
16 miles south is Ceuta. A brisk 28 knots of Westerly wind and east going tide gave us a quick but heavy trip across the shipping lanes that reportedly carry 25% of the worlds shipping. Personally I think we have seen more on some trips across the English Channel but not so concentrated and arguably less watchful or willing to alter course a few degrees to go around a small sailing yacht.

Sailing south from the rock across the straits on a typical lively

day

Ceuta is a Spanish enclave on the north coast of Morocco and our first new continent. Being Spanish makes the paperwork easy so it was our choice and quite a good one. Although it’s duty free the prices seem about the same for food as Spain. I believe electronics are cheaper although the choice is much better in duty free Gib. The market just opposite the marina is cheap and had wonderful fish and meat. Some Moroccan influence is visible in the market but it is very clean and we enjoyed a few hours buying little hand made mince things and marinated chicken and fantastic vegetables. We found eating out lacking in choice a bit and had our first meal in a dry restaurant.
Tetouan, Morocco
Roamer caught us up again and with an Australian couple we had last seen in Cascais we decided on a trip into Morocco to Tetouan. Tetouan is about 40 miles over the border and a world apart from this Spanish enclave. Our trip started with a bus to the frontier and the unusual experience of form filling and officialdom associated with the border with Africa and Europe. Touts are everywhere and will sell you anything if you let them, even the official forms to hand over with your passport which are freely given to you by the passport control men. Once through the Spanish side we were encountered by the tour guides, helpful and full of information to help you through the border crossing and then offering assistance in an environment that is so different that it’s hard not to accept and so we did. The guide was courteous and arranged two taxis at 25 Euros return journey, explaining we must not pay them a penny till they delivered us back to the border in one piece. The journey took about 45 minutes to Tetouan. The taxis would not pass an MOT. There was a front seatbelt in one of them but the driver said it wasn’t necessary to put it on - actually there was no catch part so you couldn’t use it anyway. He kindly took the window winder off his door and put it in the back seat so the passengers could share it to adjust the airflow as required. We had to stop for diesel for the 1970s Mercedes but he refused to stop the engine whilst filling, presumably for fear of it not restarting. Our convoy of 2 screamed along past donkeys carrying loads and camels standing around, past road workers living in tents on the roadside and through road works indicated by big rocks placed in the road as warnings to swerve round.

Wow, what a place, streets often only a few feet wide and full of market stalls and little tiny rooms containing shoe makers, leather workers, bakers, clothes makers, you name it.  Surprisingly there was virtually no arm grabbing and hassle to buy things( how much this would have happened without a guide we don’t know – on a couple of occasions he spoke a few sharp words to someone hanging around and they slunk off despondently!) . It seems that tourism really has not touched this place. It is all there for the people not for show. The honesty was amazing: One stall holder refused to sell me a chicken samosa as it was yesterdays and therefore not so safe for visitors to eat, presumably they are used to the bugs as he was quite happy to sell them to the locals. I bought a fresher one on the next stall to him whilst he simply smiled and said it was good I would like it better. We bought some spices and figs and others bought nuts and beans. Our guide became a little disappointed when we refused to buy carpets for the boats from one of the two tourist traps he took us to, the other being a Moroccan Pharmacy where we were dragged off for unwanted neck and back massages and then asked to ensure we tipped the masseur well.  We did not and the guide was a little put out but we had tried to explain that we are not normal punters. By the end he got the message, possibly our purchases finally did the job of convincing him. Scraps of off-cuts of leather for anti chafe patches and meat mincer (the Aussie likes to make his own sausages).

The tannery was impressive, stinking pools of god knows what full of hides at various stages of fermentation, people in waders in yet more pools of dye and others scraping the unwanted fur off cow hides over an old log. This centuries-old industry thrived in the middle of the walled old city, 120,000 people living in homes, crammed with three generations of family, shared hosepipes in the alleys for water. In the alley to the tannery, amongst the wild cats were leather workers and oranges and vegetables piled on the ground, brought in from the mountains by little old wizened ladies, wooden crates of fish smoldered in the sun and old men sat drinking thick coffees and talking. The smells and sights, not all wonderful, almost overpowered your senses.


Lunch was in a lavishly decorated beautiful restaurant in the old town. Clearly there for the tourist as no locals were to be seen but the food was very Moroccan and probably more suitable to our unaccustomed digestive systems than some of the less classy establishments we would have no doubt chosen if the guide had not steered us in here ( for his commission no doubt). No women were seen in any café or restaurant in the town (other than the tourist traps). We were told that if we had entered them the 3 girls would have been refused service!! The guide spoke proudly of the tolerant nature of the people here and how they lived side by side; Jews and Muslims, synagogue next door to mosque. But it is a long way from Ceuta in terms of progress and desire to change and be part of the modern world – although they were quite happy to take Euros from us at Spanish prices for their goods in the tourist traps!
5 hours after arriving the taxis were waiting for us and we were duly delivered back to the border and they were paid. Probably their lucky day judging by the number of taxies parked in huge ranks on the way to the frontier that obviously had not had work that day. The guide was paid and a small tip on top and after a reminder of do’s and don’ts for crossing the border he was off. We all agreed that the 35 Euros for the guide was worthwhile on the first trip but now we were seasoned Moroccan day trippers we would go independent next time and take our chances.