Video evidence of our travels

Hi!

As you might expect, while on the move this summer we've had to be quite careful with internet usage, meaning that photo uploading has been limited and video uploading a total no go.

But now we're back in civilisation (i.e. somewhere that offers unlimited wifi) I can upload to my heart's content and thought that some people might feel mild interest in seeing some of the videos we've taken during our wanderings around the Balearics.

First of all, Cala Benirras (seen here) on a Sunday at sunset; people flock to the beach to listen to the drums, watch the sunset and generally have a good time. It started off charming, but after five hours of relentless drumming it can make you a little homicidal.

Next up, a view of Sóller's harbour (described thoroughly here) taken from the tram on the way to Sóller town.

Then a video of us gliding gently into Cala Bassa's caves (before I'd started to freak myself out) and frightening the birds.

And, finally, several videos from the last few days of our travels -
The alarming swarms of jellyfish when first we arrived at Cala Saona:

The much more pleasing school of fish among the anchored boats:

A cool shot of what happens when you breathe out when swimming underwater:

And the dolphins that joined us as we made our way back to the Spanish mainland (a better quality version than that on the previous blog post):

Going home

Our route, from San Antonio to Cartagena

Having been battered by a week of thunderstorms in San Antonio bay, we started to wonder about going home - and by 'home' we meant Cartagena, naturally. It wasn't just the unpredictable weather that made us long for the stability and comfort of our familiar marina (although for me at least that was a big part of it); after two months of cruising in high summer the crowds and the heat had become a little wearing.

Still, we knew September should mean an improvement in both respects, and we had been intending to spend another month enjoying Ibiza's sun, sea and sand with far fewer rivals for the best anchorages. Cartagena was calling, though, and Peter was oddly keen to start his proposed boat improvements. And then one of the fridges stopped working, which rather decided the matter. As it turned out, San Antonio was treated to two tornadoes only a few days after we left, so in retrospect we're thoroughly glad we left when we did.

After enduring a miserable 36 hours of westerly wind and swell, which rolled straight into the bay and had us abandoning the boat for the luxury of a marina lounge, we headed out to what should have been a lovely anchorage on the west of the island...and turned around and headed straight back. The weather forecast had assured us that the westerly swell had all died away by now, but evidently it was getting a bit ahead of itself. We also almost killed two jet skiers from the second largest superyacht in the world who thought it would be great fun to zoom into our path and start doing doughnuts, but sadly they live to annoy another boater.

Part of the enormously crowded anchorage at Saona

We were fairly sure that the swell really would be gone the next day, and indeed it was, so we made our way down to Formentera and Cala Saona, our favourite of all the places we've visited this season. As we approached it became clear that a vast number of other boats had had the same idea - at least a hundred, probably more - but the turquoise waters were as perfect as ever, and Saona has the advantage of being shallow and sandy all the way up the coast and a good way out to sea, meaning that there's plenty of space to anchor as long as you don't mind being a long way from the beach.

The water itself seemed oddly empty, though, and as we picked our spot and dropped the anchor we realized why. There were small, purple-brown jellyfish everywhere, swarms of them, so many that the water looked like it had grown polka dots. All around people were peering forlornly over the guardrails in search of gaps large enough to allow for a dip, but ultimately deciding it wasn't worth the risk. I found myself doing the same that afternoon, timing the intervals between them as they floated down between our hulls, but, as everyone else had done, decided against trying to evade them. I'd been stung by one such jellyfish earlier in the year and I had no intention of repeating the experience.

Each of those blobs is a jellyfish. 

Fortunately, the next day there were far fewer of them, so we took it in turns to cool off while the other of us acted as jellyfish lookout from their vantage point on board. Eventually there were so few that we could essentially swim as normal, so we strapped on our snorkeling gear and went for a look at the rocks and fish by the shore. 

Having had so little luck with wind all summer, we had resigned ourselves to motoring all the way to Cartagena, placing little faith in the forecast that promised perfect sailing conditions for the 60 mile passage. For once, we were wrong; the wind speed and direction were perfect for our enormous cruising chute, which sped us along at close to 8 knots for almost the entire passage. Even better, a pod of perhaps a dozen dolphins came along to play beneath our bows. As Peter said, the only way the day could have been improved would have been if a whale made an appearance (at a safe distance).

We reached Moraira and found ourselves a space among the crowds of anchored day tripper boats, flushed with our success. 

We didn't allow ourselves much of a break, though; the next day we were off again, south to anchor near Alicante, a much less pleasant spot. We were surprised to have another good day of sailing and a much better protected anchorage than we had expected, although if anything it was even uglier than anticipated. Alicante from the sea is a bleak prospect - all concrete high rises behind crowded beaches, the occasional lonely palm tree the only sign of greenery. Where we stopped, however, was a little way out and somehow even worse - the buildings weren't as tall but they looked poorly cared for and there was graffiti everywhere. We braved the cloudy water for a much-needed swim but kept it as short as possible.

The delightful Alicante vista

When morning came, we didn't linger, although we were to have a much shorter journey - only 25 miles to Torrevieja, where we could anchor in a closed harbour, making for perfect shelter. We had stopped there on the way up the coast earlier this year, so knew it was not an attractive location - arguably even worse than Alicante. For some reason it's a tourist destination, but I can't imagine many less appealing prospects than swimming in a busy harbour. We were treated to a thunderstom that evening, which did nothing to improve the surroundings.

From there, we moved on to the Mar Menor, an inland sea bordered by a thin strip of sand - or more accurately a spot just outside the Mar Menor. Construction had been started on a new marina outside the Mar Menor but at some point the plans had fallen through, leaving a set of wave breaks and nothing else. The bright side is that this forms a perfectly sheltered anchorage for anyone willing to brave the rather depressing sight of corrugated metal all around them. We had originally thought of spending a few days in the Mar Menor itself, but more storms were promised so we changed our minds and spent only one night there, again rising early the next morning for the final leg of our journey down to Cartagena.

Cartagena's harbour from the air

We couldn't sail for these last few miles, which was a bit of a shame, but nonetheless we were very excited to be back again. As we rounded corners familiar landmarks revealed themselves: Look! we cried. It's the industrial shipping harbour! And the abandoned forts on the hills! It has to be said that Cartagena isn't quite as impressive from the sea as one might wish.

After some confusion and awkwardness with berthing - our reserved spot was occupied, and the marinero directed us to about the least convenient berth imaginable - we could at last relax. 

We were home.