Having breakfast we scanned the bay. Gran Tarajal was not the prettiest of towns, many of the buildings crumbling and all very boxy with no real features. I prepared and stowed for a difficult day at sea but as soon as we had rounded the town leaving the funnel of mountains, the wind dropped to a steady F4 with improved sea state too.

   As villages came and went I can’t say the new developments on the island were very picturesque. Straight rows of identical boxy houses or clumps of cloned apartments rose up the hillsides. Against the brown shades of the barren terrain the odd golf course or luxury hotel stood out like a sore thumb surrounded by lush green grass and trees. Half way along the south coast the landscape suddenly flattened and changed to a pale sand colour. On the outskirts of Playa de Sotavento de Jandia a contrasting green square of vegetation edged an enormous hotel or was it a palace?! There were about seven massive hotel complexes scattered around the town. Wind turbines stood to attention in orderly rows up into the hills. Then, just the other side of the town, things returned to the brown barren mountains for a short while.

   How the landscape at Morro Jable looked before tourism took over I wouldn’t like to say but now hotels in all shapes and forms rise up the hills, umbrellas sit in military fashion on all the beaches, kite surfers, jet skis and motor boats fly around like headless chickens on the water and people swarm in and out of seafront bars. We sat looking ashore with jaws dropped watching the world go by. Rounding the lighthouse on the beach, the harbour lay before us hidden by the breakwater. What awaited us here I wondered.

   No horror stories to report I’m glad to say and mooring temporarily on the fuel dock Si went to check in at the marina office. The wind died and I baked on deck while being told by numerous people that we were only allowed to moor there for fuel. No one spoke English and I did my best to explain with my very limited Spanish. I was melting into a pool in the cockpit by the time Si returned, but with him came quite a breeze and from the other direction. We moved to a pontoon in the middle of the marina and after cold beer and a very brief clear up our sleepless night caught up with us. We slept for the rest of the afternoon.

   Our stroll into town late in the afternoon was not very enjoyable. Firstly we checked out ‘Cash Diplo’ a wholesalers behind the marina but a trade card was necessary to shop there. We had to walk up to the main road and back down again to get to the town and beach through residential and holiday apartments and rather tatty shops. Souvenir shops, bars and restaurants announced the start of the resort. We walked down to the beach to see if we could bring the dinghy round for a swim tomorrow then wandered briefly along the front, past mostly retired English and German couples having dinner. Having seen enough we cut up through the town and headed back, buying bread and ice cream from the petrol station in the marina. I made a quick vegetable sauce for spaghetti which we ate with sleepy eyes. Neither of us (Yes, Simon as well!) remember waking in the night at all.