FAQ (Frequently asked Questions) -
Have you abandoned Selkie Dancer for the winter? -
Balearics eh -
So when are you off? -
And then? -
September and October? -
Can I cash in my hard earned Mediterranean Sea Miles (MSM)? -
What next? -
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We are back on Selkie Dancer and intend to stay here in Almerimar until the end of April so if anyone wants a non sailing visit before then come on out! Granada and the Alpujarra are on the doorstep.
A little over two weeks ago on the fifth day of our skiing holiday I collided with
a very hard snow wall, the purpose of which was to stop the unwary going over the
edge and into the trees. I broke my left clavicle; I suppose I can thank my blessings
that it wasn’t my head and a tree. The French doctor took x-
We took a bus from Almeria airport back to the Marina at Almerimar. It took
almost as long as the flights from Edinburgh to Almeria but it got us immediately
back into speaking Spanish. At the bus stop we chatted with a Colombian lady, an
Australian guy bound for Granada and a returning Andalusian native -
The other night there was a terrific noise -
The more we speak to people and the more we read, we realise that we are
best to stay here until the unpredictable winds have abated and the warmth has crept
northwards. Weather permitting we intend to leave around the 28th April, north towards
Cartagena and the Balearics and would like another pair or pairs of hands to augment,
in Andy’s words, a ‘winged Jint’!
PS this comes by Andy’s hotmail address as the pirated
wifi we are using does not permit transmission of messages or update of web site!
Jinti xxxxxxxx
I am using my insomnia positively. It is four in the morning and sleep is evading me yet again. For the first time in ages we are in a port where the wifi is working so we can email. I have not accessed the laptop (ordenador en espanol) for ages and I recognise nothing. However, I have been able to find a blank sheet, so here goes.
We were in Almerimar for an unbelievable eight weeks. The first few were taken up with getting the battery charger and other electrics up to speed to support the amount of anchoring we anticipated around the Balearics. We made several little trips into the mountains on local buses and sampled the less touristy parts of our immediate area. The last weeks were frustrating in a way I am beginning to recognise and cope with. The decision to leave is made, everything is looking promising, the food is bought, the boat and crew are ready, then, at the last minute another gale is forecast; so we delay, eat up the provisions laid in for the journey and start the whole process over again.
We eventually left on my birthday, May 12th , we lifted our noses up, sniffed the
wind and turned our heads towards the sea. It did feel good to get out there, to
loose the bonds that tied us to the dock, to break free and begin our adventures
again. We took three days to sail to Mallorca following the coast till we rounded
Cabo de Gata and then struck out North East. Having just visited Cartagena and
seen Isaac Perals 1888 submarine it was rather in my mind when I thought I saw one
coming towards me -
.
I don’t know what I thought Mallorca would be like but I suppose it has been coloured
by the image of package tours, hen nights and the word -
In the Bay of Pollensa we witnessed an heroic if rather risky episode. As we sat
in the cockpit I saw a boat and assumed that it had anchored without my noticing
-
We sailed on and I mean sailed! After last years disappointing lack of wind we have
had plenty recently. Along the Mallorcan east coast we visited little towns and
anchored in Calas or little coves. Each one is unique from the wide mouthed Cala
es Calo with soft green hills behind reminiscent of Scotland to the very narrow,
panic inducing (for the helmswoman) Cala Mitjana whose turquoise waters, rocky sides,
beautiful twisted trees and sandy beach was home to us alone for a night. The Spanish
system of booking moorings has proved a bit of a mystery. After having been told
that the Cabrera island buoys were ’completo’ we decide we would go anyway and just
have a look. When we arrived there were many empty buoys, so we took one and waited
for officialdom to swing into action. In the event a cheery wave from the clip
boarded official speeding past in a little motor boat was all the bureaucracy we
encountered. Cabrera is a protected area and has restricted access. We walked up
to the castle which literally grows out of the rock and is a very impressive sentry
to the bay. Sadly the island is also the home to six thousand French ghosts. Nine
thousand prisoners were abandoned here in the Napoleonic wars -
We are off to Nelson’s Mahon in Menorca tomorrow, weather permitting.
Jinti, Palma 13th June 2008
PS Re my broken collar bone and earlier ‘winged status’, Andy has now declared me fully fledged!
============================================
This Sailing Life is not all a Bay of Roses -
Or
how we set off for the Spanish Main but ended up in Mallorca in the Bay of Pollensa
On the 16th June we departed Mallorca for Menorca. Our landfall here was the enormous
natural harbour of Mahon -
The harbour of Mahon is scattered with islands and we looked out at the imposing high stone walls of one which had housed a hospital for infectious diseases. Walls built high in the belief that the wind would not carry the infections up the river to the town. Similarly inside the building, high walls between patients suffering from different diseases. Since it ceased to operate as a hospital it has ironically become a retreat for health workers! Quarantine islands and bases for the navy complete the scatter.
It is natural as sailor travellers that we see mainly the coast and it is always
interesting to make a foray into the hinterland. We took a bus along the big road
along the spine of the island, from Mahon to Ciutadella. There were Factory Outlet
shops along the way which I found slightly bizarre but on the whole Menorca, very
conscious of the disaster that reckless exploitation has wreaked in some parts of
Mallorca, keeps tight control of development. It was proclaimed a Biosphere Reserve
by UNESCO a few years ago and there are all sorts of safeguards in place to protect
both land and sea. The countryside was soft and green with gently rolling wooded
hills and dry stone walls dividing the fields keep the earth in -
There was good reason to visit by bus rather than boat as the long narrow Cala around which the town has grown is very pretty and dramatic. It is, in certain conditions prone to a surge of water level which, two years ago, fell and then rose by several meters severely damaging a friend’s boat and sinking many others. I am convinced that as soon as Selkie Dancer sails in these conditions will prevail!
On our return we were met by Alberto in a high speed rib, Mahon’s answer to ‘you
shop, we drop’ delivering our supermarket shopping -
The day we left Mahon the wind died and so we did rescue drills. I am pleased to
report that I will be able to save my husband, even if my engine has failed, should
he be silly enough to fall off the boat . I swam in the sea off the boat and got
a little spooked thinking how deep it was below me and of what might be lurking there.
I found out that I could put on a buoyancy aid in the water and wrap a life sling
around me and be pulled back to the boat. This was all good fun but carried out
in flat calm conditions. As soon as there is even a little chop on the water as
later, swimming in a Cala, I discovered, it would be all to easy to be overcome by
waves -
As part of the Menorcan Biosphere policy in vulnerable areas they provide mooring buoys and restrict anchoring so that the sea bed and the vegetation is not disturbed. As usual when we arrive somewhere new we anxiously scan and count masts as they come into view. The only mooring available at Isla Colom was for lighter boats but we secured to it anyway and went RAW ( ready, alert and waiting) this paid off and we were soon comfortably attached to a more appropriate buoy.
This was such a busy bay. It was the weekend and there was never ending activity, water skiers, jet skiers, traditional boats, pedallos, dinghies, sailing boats of different shapes and sizes, ditto motor boats, people swimming, snorkelling, sunning, laughing and the sound of seagulls engulfed by the sound of the Spanish having a good time, it was only at siesta that the seagulls won out.
The seagulls are different here and a special lipstick lady variety is called Audouin’s
Gull. They are not the pushy common types that proliferate at home but a rather
more refined bird altogether -
We moved on up the east coast and called into Addaia. We negotiated cautiously the shallow approach up the creek where there were boats that looked as if they had been there for ever. It was very hot and sticky and we stayed only long enough to have lunch and spot another Selkie. We have been aware that we were not the only Selkie in this sea and would have loved to have made contact with the owners but no one was around.
On the 25th June we set off from the north west corner of Menorca bound for Bahia de Roses a generous bay on the north east coast of the Spanish mainland but after four hours of bashing into confused seas and with an unhelpful wind we turned left for Mallorca. Approaching Cabo de Formentor I was struck by its wild and rugged appearance. As the light left the sky I saw the hills surrounding the Bay of Pollensa as a series of cardboard cut outs, each one a different shade of fading blue, the back drops of a theatrical set.
The Moon has been so clear recently and through binoculars quite stunning.
The moving Moon went up the sky,
And no where did abide:
Softly she was going up,
And a star or two beside.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge, “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner”
As I write -
From there we plan to come south looking for somewhere to put the boat while we return for the ‘wedding of the year’ at the end of August. Nick, our eldest, and Emma are to be married from our home which is very exciting given our lack of daughters. topof2008
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
How Sits the Wind for France? -
We left Puerto Pollensa on the North East side of Mallorca for mainland Spain at
the end of June. We were worrying about a headwind from the notorious Gulf of Lyons
(Lions) later in the passage and so made a westerly detour which enabled us to keep
sailing but was not directly where we wanted to go -
The following day we sailed to Puerto Empuriabrava which reminded us of our first
home together in Florida. Built on reclaimed land and cut through with grids of
canals, the houses lining them were a quirky mix of dolls house proportion -
Our friends Audrey and Zander from Burntisland have a house near here and arrived
for lunch in their silver Mazarati (hmm -
We realise it is time to pause our travels as the French holidays have begun and anchorages are getting ever more crowded. The usual gentle evening’s entertainment is becoming alarming as boats arrive and compete with each other for space and end up plonking their anchors ever closer.
How sit’s the wind for France? Right on the nose my liege!
Why is it when you need to get somewhere the predicted wind has not heard the forecast and is somewhere else and a nasty little local wind comes up and blows from your intended destination. Well it was thus as we made our way towards St Cyprien Plage which is where we are going to leave Selkie Dancer. We are ‘en France’ in this strange place of fun fairs, circuses and fruit machines, devoid of the expected chic and reminiscent of a sunny Southend or a balmy Blackpool.
PS
Arriving in Prestwick last night I felt an empathy for the Spanish girls who were
struggling with the vagaries of the English language. Puzzlement in their faces
as they slowly translated the mysterious words, ‘Pure dead brilliant’, Prestwick’s
logo -
Now home in Burntisland to enjoy the summer and the wedding.
Hasta septiembre
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
St Cyprien Plage -
So……… we have enjoyed THE wedding of the year (photo at ‘Photos 2008’), tidied the
house ready to re-
It seems to be par for the course, however, that we are now in port awaiting the calming of winds from the Golfe de Lion that are sweeping down the Pyrenees and into the Mediterranean. As I write palm trees are being bent and blown, more reminiscent of images of a hurricane in the Caribbean than September in the south of France and the instruments are recording gusts of 40 knots.
In the few days that we have been back Andy has put in a new radio (we are now enjoying
‘Catalan Classical Music’ -
Yesterday we took a trip to Collioure that meant taking a bus to Perpignan and changing
there. We walked into Perpignan and spent an hour enjoying their annual mediaeval
market. Amongst the stonemasons, bow makers, music makers, lace makers, battle demonstrations
there was a re-
Collioure is nestled in a bay almost where the Pyrenees meet the coast and was made famous in the early 20th century by the artists who came and worked there. We had lunch in the Hotel de Templiers whose owner at the time had accepted, in lieu of payment, pictures which now adorn the walls. The present proprietor had lost none of the colour sense of the Fauves, dressed in a brilliant purple shirt he was lavishing attention on the elderly local ladies who had come to lunch. We wandered Collioure’s narrow steep streets with houses that would taste of saffron, cinnamon, rose, vanilla and ginger. The ‘ateliers’ seemed overpriced and formulaic for the most part although there were exceptions. When it was time to return we decided it would be worth paying for a taxi rather than sit in the bus for two hours. So after adventurous negotiation with the French telephone system we were whisked back to the boat in 20 minutes!
It is our intention, when these winds have died down, to get around the potentially dangerous Cape Bear (locals call it Cape Horn) and move slowly south. Spend time in Barcelona and Valencia and perhaps go out towards Ibiza and Formentera before finding somewhere to leave Selkie Dancer for the winter. Keep in touch by phone or text and join us somewhere along the way.
Au Revoir pour le moment -
Denia October 7th 2008
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The Selkie Dancer Rough Guide to the Mediterranean Costas -
These last four weeks have seen us cover 320 nautical miles, meeting friends and acquaintances and following the tourist route along the Mediterranean Costas. Not much sailing and dispensing with more dineros than we would have wished.
I often think that we are privileged to approach places by sea, we do not have to
experience the heralding urban sprawl; our impressions have not been marred by telegraph
wires, advertising hoardings or road signs, instead we find ourselves immediately
in the old port area, the nerve centre of a place. Cadaques (Brava = Wild/savage)
with it’s white church standing high Curabitur felis erat, tempus eu, placerat et,
pellentesque sed, purus. Sed sed diam. Nam nunc. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad
litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos hymenaeos. Aenean risus est, porttitor
vel, placerat sit amet, vestibulum sit amet, nibh. Ut faucibus justo quis nisl. Etiam
vulputate, sapien eu egestas rutrum, leo neque luctus dolor, sed hendrerit tortor
metus on a hill, narrow winding streets snaking around it and the strident bougainvillea
tumbling from the little houses is a case in point -
There was an amazing house, more like a German hunting lodge, trimmed with carved blue wooden eaves and adorned with blue tiles. Salvador Dali lived near here, the Rolling Stones partied here in a bar where the state of the candles bear witness to decades of serious nightlife.
Audrey and Zander joined us for a day of eating, drinking and laughter. Audrey and
I went ashore to window shop and sight see, leaving the men to wash up -
It cost us forty euros to be on a mooring and just as we were about to leave, literally
as we were about to let go of the buoy, the mariniero came by to get another twenty
as we were past the 12 o’clock check out time ‘I couldn’t believe it’ and was just
so cross. Well we decided we might as well cough up the full forty and be done with
it -
Barcelona (Dorada = Golden) found us right at its heart in Marina Port Vell. Here we met Mike, his Spanish wife and family. Mike is the son of a friend I met through Nia and a font of local advice.
Of course we did Gaudi and the Sagrada Familia -
We had hit gold in terms of festivals as this was La Merce, the biggest festival on Barcelona’s calendar with events all over the city along with free access to museums.
The Castellers were an amazing sight. Gathered in the town square, 3 teams competed
to build the highest, most complex of human towers. The rules were more subtle than
we realised but luckily a local explained the intricacies -
There were Gigantes -
The Correfoc or ‘fire run’ was a very noisy explosive parade of dragons firing incendiary devices seemingly from every orifice, followed by drumming bands and dancing devils. If you were so inclined you could fling yourself into this inferno and join the dance, the symbolism of bright fires to keep you warm through the winter as summer fades. It is certainly fading here in Barcelona and we need to move south to catch more warmth and sun.
From Barcelona we stopped at Ginesta and Tarragona and then an overnight motor, watching
the stars wheel crazily overhead as I tried to sleep and couldn’t. And so into Valencia
(Azahar = Orange Blossom ) -
We had met Rosario and Mike at a party last Christmas and they very kindly said we
should look them up if we got to Valencia. We made contact and they took us to the
most fantastic restaurant. The setting was stunning and Rosario and I sat looking
past the two men and out to sea, the deserted beach an empty stage of sand with a
backdrop of endless blue sea. During the course of the meal I spied this bloke,
my attention drawn by his unusual gait and garb, or rather lack of it, weaving up
the beach. He was totally nude and looked either drunk, high or not quite normal
-
El Palmar -
Tom, Andy’s brother, and Jessica have been staying with us. They have been visiting
the south, Granada and Seville and on their return north stopped by in Valencia.
Together we went and visited the incredible new buildings that adorn the bed of
the original river Turia that ran through Valencia. In 1957 the city fathers and
mothers got fed up with the Turia flooding and decided to divert the river and convert
the river bed into a green and pleasant land for the people. They planted masses
of trees and created fountains, walkways, cycle tracks etc. and towards the port
area a rash of modern buildings, an indulgence of modern architecture. Some of the
buildings are fantastic. Shining white expanses of ceramic, space ship like forms,
the use of water and reflections; some parts seem to float and plants and flowers
cascade from balconies. They must have been so pleased by the success of one that
they repeated the process, each subsequent one trying to out do the others with innovative
and imaginative design but, like Gaudi in Barcelona, perhaps they should just stop.
The river could become cluttered as it winds towards the sea with ever increasing
extremes of architectural and engineering skill. However my favourite space was
the Silk Exchange. A beautiful simple stone building (15th C) wide and high, with
pillars and vaulted arches, stained glass windows catching the mid day sun and spilling
their colours over the warm coloured stone. And courtyards, oh I would like to have
one of those -
Denia (Azahar) -
We will go down to Alicante on a train tomorrow, passing Benidorm on the way just for a little ‘outing’ but right now it is howling Force 8, it tips with rain from time to time but the wind surfers are having the time of their lives.
Off to Ibiza in search of the sun in a few days.
.
We waited in Denia to go to Ibiza because, yes you guessed it, the wind was ‘on the nose’ for a fuller explanation and illustrations of this phrase visit on the nose! When we eventually did go, the sea was still high and the wind not quite in the right direction, the journey was horribly long and lumpy and we were threatened by a fast ferry (30 knots) coming straight at us. We are convinced he did not see us until the last minute when he swerved but I am now highly tuned and the adrenaline flows whenever I hear the threatening thrum of a ferry engine. We picked up a mooring buoy in the dark and spent a very rolly night with dreams heaving with boat nightmares. The next morning we motored south under a rising and powerful sun as it burned away the nasty cloud to give us a lovely day, to the tiny island of Espalmador.
We were incredibly lucky with our ten days circumnavigating Ibiza. Usually there are storms at this time of year but we had day after day of sunshine and the anchorages just got more beautiful and the water was crystal clear. Andy found a great book in Ibiza town, which we visited by bus from Santa Eulalia, that shows the coastline from the air, it turned out to be an invaluable tool for deciding where to drop the anchor as it showed the sand patches quite clearly (best holding for the anchor).
The island of Espalmador had mooring buoys and we stayed there recovering from the
rough passage over. I always feel exhausted after a rough day at sea, no energy
and a body that feels like bendy rubber and there is nothing for it but to sleep.
Later I swam ashore and had a walk on the white sands. We sailed back past the
impressive rocks on the south western end of Ibiza that had appeared quite alarmingly
out of the blue or, more accurately, out of the dusk of a few nights before. Andy
is convinced these are the rocks used in the film South Pacific as the location for
Bali Hi -
We avoided the discos and fleshpots of St Antonio, preferring to spend a dark night nearby anchored off Isla Conejera under the lighthouse that had been visible on our crossing from Denia, now close above us, as we watched the stars come out and the moon rise to light a path across the sea.
Portixol was a truly magic little cove. Inaccessible by vehicle and surrounded by
tall cliffs and pine trees, a stony beach in the centre and on both sides typical
fishermen’s huts seeming to grow out of the sand coloured rock, crude wooden rails
projecting into the water for the boats to be launched and pulled up, a black cat
walked along the roofs. Also growing from the rocks was an old fisherman, peaked
cap over a deeply lined face, his check shirt and loose trousers both the colour
of sandstone merged into the rock, became part of it. He moved with slow deliberation,
he knew every stone. Later we saw him return, in the dark, from a fishing trip and
watched the shaky light from his torch come and go as he made his way to the hut
where he lived. I may be romanticising wildly and becoming sentimental but his life
seemed so wonderfully simple. As he said to me earlier ‘el mar es el mar y el viento
es el viento’ -
The last day was typical of the variety that we can have. Started with a swim, not
a breathe of wind, birds singing all idyllic; then it was off making towards Valencia
where we are booked in for the winter. Not much wind for the first hour and then
we were out of the protection of the land and whoosh -
Port Americas Cup alias Marina Real Juan Carlos 1, Marina Norte
November 2008
A VECES SE GANA Y A VECES SE PIERDE -
The BEST LOOS award, very important when travelling -
The MOST DISASTROUS gastronomic choice was a ‘menu del dia’ in Tarragona where we
missed the blindingly obvious clues of a waitress keen to help us. These included
putting her hands on the table top, bouncing them up and down and snorting -
The BIGGEST RIP OFF was in Cadaques where we were charged €40 for a mooring and if
you didn’t check out by 12 noon -
The MOST VALUED ACCESSORY award goes to Andy who proves calm and patient in most circumstances.
The most CRUCIAL LOSS was the dropping into the briney of the outboard tank cap, however ingeniously surcusomethinged by fitting a bung and using a CABLE TIE for the airway.
The most useful general purpose fix all is THE CABLE TIE.
The BEST VALUE, if silent, HAIRCUT was in Denia -
The BIGGEST MISUNDERSTANDING was not appreciating the subtleties of a country bus timetable which led to a three hour wait for a bus from El Palmar to Valencia.
The MOST EXTREME WEATHER was in the marina in Denia -
The RAREST SPECIES, not actually encountered, but the name conjures up a wonderful
image of Mrs Tiggywinkle -
The BEST VALUE and MOST FUN SPA TREATMENT was a self applied sulphurous mud pack
-
There were the best of loos, there were the worst of crossings, there were wise choices, there were foolish ones, there was incredulity, much sunlight, increasing darkness, there was all the time in the world, then suddenly it was finished…………………….
Apologies to Charles Dickens -
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it
was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity,
it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope,
it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before
us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way -
English novelist
(1812 -
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