Tuesday morning, sleepy eyed and a little battered, we departed San Telmo under a dry sky.  The wind still had some gusto so we were nicely reaching 8 knots until early afternoon. The weather deteriorated and we watched the horizon as twisters formed to suck the water into the sky (see pics) (Mrs Wards class can also look these up). Along the way we were joined by a little yellow breasted bird that must have been swept up by the storms. Understandably he hitched a lift all the way to Ibiza, which was a good few hours away. We watched him merrily perched on the stern steps or at the bow, clinging on with his tiny feet and kindly leaving us some friendly droppings. At least he wasn’t swept to sea Bill!

We arrived at the anchorage in San Telmo, dry for the time being (lovely weather we are having by the way!) and calm seas. A catamaran from New Zealand shooed us from our first anchor point so we moved along by a nominal amount. The rain set in and we ate aboard.

It seemed that our first port of call in Ibiza was opposite either a Spanish or Italian resort because in the morning we had music and beach activities! No need for us to hang about, and it seemed all the other yachts had the same idea as we were last to leave, so we headed for San Antonio on the North West side of the island.

I have been to San Antonio before, and although I believed I wouldn’t remember much detail I wasn’t surprised to see a mass of high rise hotels and bars, all of which were obviously built under no strict planning control (Spanish planners/architects have much to answer for) and swarms of day tripping boats with party people onboard (the British have a lot to answer for too). We anchored quickly and smoothly and then headed ashore. The tourist trade does well here. Brightly lit cafes and restaurants fill the harbour and the bars line up along the streets. It all came flooding back to me rather rapidly! There are a couple of places worth a visit though. A good example to convey the contrasting establishments was on Wednesday night when we had an awful pizza that was still frozen from one of the cafes. We thought pizza was a safe bet, I mean how can you get it wrong? We then sauntered up to the beach bars called Cafe Del Mar and Cafe Mambo, which are the front runners in Balearic bar culture. We had a terribly civilised cocktail or 2, and then we were happy to continue in this manner for another couple of hours, until the rain stopped and we could get back. Of course that was the only reason mum! Next day, however, was a complete right off, must have been the pizza!

My friend Tracy was arriving by chance on the 17^th so we arranged to meet her on a Friday night and we hit the town. We were fortunate enough to go to Villa Mercedes, ya darling, and we had a lovely dinner (certainly the best fillet steak I have ever had). We unfortunately had an awkward swell coming straight into the bay which was very uncomfortable, and if you were newbie, as Tracy was, then seasickness was imminent. Poor love. Blue sky in the morning cheered us all.

We ventured into Ibiza Old Town which is a beautiful whitewashed blend of restaurants and stunning houses. We had a good look round and mixed with the rich and possibly famous (not sure if it was Jaggers ‘daughter).

The next day we took for an anchorage elsewhere (anywhere else really!), heading towards Bora Bora beach on the SW of the island. We slept to the sound of house music!

We found our anchor stuck to a reasonably huge rock the next morning, and we spent the next half an hour dislodging it. I watched a dodgy looking bloke hopping along the coast line waiting for us to leave; hmmm it was 7:00 am! Off we went, eventually, with fewer dark clouds and NNE 18 knots we headed for Calpe, mainland Spain. Ibiza and the Balearics thundered behind us, sorry Trace.

Leila and Tom