Richard Clark’s family came on board in Alicante.  After a couple of days they sailed to Formentera.  My regular telephone updates from Bill informed me that the marinas were hugely expensive (hundreds of pounds) and that anchoring was what you did in the Balearics – along with so many others that the anchorages were very crowded.  I was also informed that nudity was the ‘uniform’ for many of the crew on the other boats.  It turned out to be just so and among all nationalities and families as well as couples.  A 10 year old, or thereabouts, English boy and his Dad were swimming back to their boat and the conversation between father and son was about the sights they had seen and the relative merits or otherwise, of the hirsute or otherwise, people they had seen.  The boy seemed to know that many of them were Brazilian!  I don’t know how he knew that, clever boy. Richard and Bill coined the phrase ‘pervoculers’ for the optical instrument so busily employed – to check the anchorages mainly, I am assured.   Sorry Mrs Ward’s geography class, perhaps this can be part of culture and humanities?

Unfortunately the item to repair the outboard motor had not arrived in time for Gibraltar but luckily Paul James and Tracy were taking over from the Clarks in Ibiza and brought it over with them.  This meant a couple more days in Ibiza whilst Raphael Torres a local Yamaha dealer fixed it.  This was no hard shakes for Bill because it meant he could visit Villa Mercedes once again with Paul and Tracy – a lovely place apparently, with views, loungers and a hippy decor which creates a really chillaxed (a term I learned from Tracy) atmosphere.

There was a thunderstorm  for the crossing to Mallorca which cleared in time for Tracy to experience how lovely it is to come into somewhere on a sunny evening.  Needless to say, Palma marinas were out of the question, costing hundreds of pounds a night (apart from the harbour authority one).  A little further towards the west coast and a slightly cheaper (Euros 110) was found where Bill could wash the boat down but was still close enough to Palma for me to come aboard.

The bus ride was about 40 minutes and took in Palma Nova and Magaluf.  Enough said! But it wasn’t far before everything changed and we arrived in Port Adrianohome to Sunseekers Germany. This will probably be the only time we will afford to come here.  Phillipe Starke has got a 25 year lease to develop the place to take ultra yachts (oh yes, bigger than super yachts).  I am sure it will look great apart from a sodding huge, grey concrete wall which is not on any chart yet.  The work is underway and we did take advantage of a very lovely dinner, courtesy of Paul and Tracy, in one of the smart restaurants. 

We had spotted preparations for a fiesta on getting off the bus and went up there after dinner.  How surprised I was to hear music so much like Scottish country dancing (bagpipe and all) and the group dances were very Gay Gordon too!  The band would call the next song and everyone seemed to know the dance. I didn’t know that Mallorca is actually Catalan.  The common language is a dialect of Catalan.  The culture is very different from the Spain you normally think of.  There were no other foreigners in sight at the fiesta.  What a lot people miss!!

Next day we sailed round the corner with the intention of Isla Dragonera, but it was too crowded so we went to San Telmo and anchored.  A dinghy came up to say hello and they were Richard and Rowan with their guest Chris.  They are having a Discovery 67 built (the fourth in the series).   Richard was a previous owner of an early 55.  What a small world!  The visit was cut short by the ‘fun police’ coming up to tell us we could not anchor other than in patches of clear sand.  There is an attempt being made to protect (quite rightly, despite my quip) the posedonia – a weed which is under threat (but which everyone is anchoring in all the time further north).  We tried Dragonera again – no luck – tried somewhere else – no luck – and went back to San Telmo by which time the day trippers had gone back (to Palma we suppose) and we were directed to a buoy.

Bill and I are on our own for a while until Leila and her boyfriend Tom join us next week.  In the mean time we have sailed up to the north of Mallorca where we are bobbling in a cove, quiet now that the locals have all gone back to wherever it is they keep their boats – I think in this instance it is Pollenca.  On Sunday we will cross over to Menorca and gently meander to the east where Mahon airport it situated and where Leila and Tom will join us (no more nude sailing after that – can’t completely get into the culture).