Soundtrack: The steady beat of a bongo drum drifts over the water to mark the setting of the sun. Large numbers of hippies visit Ibiza attracted by the island’s laid-back attitude and they hang out in family groups on remote beaches like this one at Cala Benirras - mostly completely naked and dreadlocked, with an assortment of kids and mongrels in tow.
High Point: Snorkelling in crystal clear warm water every day. Our pilot tells us that the Med’s water is so clear is because it is in effect devoid of marine life. Underwater there’s a desert of sand, punctuated by beds of seagrass. Nevertheless we see a variety of different types of fish among the rocks and in the shade around the boat to be interesting. We attract more by feeding them scraps of stale bread.
Low Point: Finding ourselves without the comfort and security of marinas takes some getting used to. When we find out the marina on Formentera charges 121 euros for a 40ft boat for the night, and 260 euros in August, we realise that staying in a marina isn’t even an occasional treat, it is out of the question. Tied up in a berth the boat doesn’t roll all night, and we can sleep in the certainty that we’ll be in the same place the next morning. We’ve also been used to power and water on demand. Anchoring instead changes the game completely. We’ve having to be very frugal with water and we watch our energy consumption closely to keep the batteries from running down. We’re learning a lot about where to anchor too. When the wind blows up (which it has done on four out of our nine days), the priority is to get shelter from the swell. Getting out of the wind is secondary. When you can’t set anything down without it sliding away, and when you can’t stand up without holding on to something, life onboard quickly gets very wearing. And then there are the other boats in the anchorage……..we’ve had a yacht trip our anchor by dragging their own anchor across our chain, leaving us to drift down on a catamaran behind us; we’ve had boats anchor so close we have to fend them off when we swing. One day our anchor collected a large rock wedged into it, causing us to drag when it blew up; one night we pulled back on our chain so far we banged into a red buoy – ironically enough it had a notice saying ‘Do not anchor here’……And we’ve only been at this anchoring lark for a week or two!
With predominantly easterlies for the last week, we chose to sail our way slowly round the west and north side of Ibiza island, anchoring in a suitable cala each night. The coves – calas – in Ibiza are deep water rocky inlets clad in pine trees, typically shelving steeply to a sandy beach at one end. They look idyllic but if the swell comes in, it’s like being stuck inside a washing machine, and the sound of the waves breaking on the sides can seem alarmingly close. In these conditions we’re fearful to leave the boat for long, which is frustrating as we’d love to explore the island interior more.
Whilst in Cala Benirras, we meet up with two experienced Med boats and we discover our anchoring mishaps are nothing out of the ordinary. James on a Centurion 47 is trying to get back home to Languedoc. Steve and Eva on Magic have been cruising in the Med for six years and are now making their way to Brazil. Kedi - their Turkish swimming cat – keeps watch on the coachroof, a model of feline composure. A towel hangs beside the boat’s boarding ladder that the cat uses to climb down into the water and go for a swim before scrambling back onboard.
We’ve done all of 45 miles in the 9 days since we got here, half sailing, half motoring. Now we’re ready for a good wind to take us across to Mallorca 50 miles away to the NE.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment