OK, OK, we know that it’s been ages since we
blogged, and I’ve been informed that waiting for the next instalment is worse
than waiting for the next Harry Potter book, so here goes!
Helena and Jennie flew into Palma and we retrieved them
in the dinghy from the beach. Once they were installed, we took off in
CAPE for a sweep around the bay, calling into
one of the marinas to ogle the posh boats, buy diesel and haggle for
water.
Palma Cathedral –
flying buttresses galore.
We thought we were seeing things when what looked
like a large white submarine came into view. David decided that it was a
floating hotel but it turned out to be 119 m of state-of-the-art superyachtery
called ‘A’. We hear that another one is planned – can’t wait to here what that
one will be called!
‘A’ slumming it off Magaluff.
No worries about locker space
then!
We anchored off Magaluff/Palma Nova, to do the
‘kiss-me-quick’ stuff and pedalos (Bethany and Bryn had never been on a pedalo
before) and to let H&J relax into the groove and get some sand between their
toes.
Pedalo envy: “Daddy can we have a pedalo? Daddy
can we have a pedalo? Daddy can we have a pedalo? Daddy can we have
a…”
Having stocked up on beer, wine, nibbles and food,
we set off around the west coast of Mallorca,
to feast, snorkel, drink and talk junk far into the night, sitting on deck
getting bitten by mozzies (despite citronella candles and intravenous
Autian).
Cala Egos
We anchored in Cala Egos and David caught a large
mullet with the spear gun, which we curried for tea. Jenny and Helena practiced
their dinghy boarding technique (we have some wonderful video footage of Jenny
attempting to get out of the water into the dinghy, which we will release for a
large fee or we might just post on YouTube for the hell of it…). I don’t know
why I’m gloating, ‘cos I can’t do it either!
Cala Egos – the first anchorage we had to
ourselves.
Jenny and Helena took to sleeping on deck, braving
the mozzies for the sake of a cool night’s sleep.
Sleeping beauty.
Mountains and
dragons
From Cala Egos we continued northwards, motoring
over glass past ‘Dragon Island’, mountains and towering
cliffs.
Ilsa Dragonera…
…sleeping dragon.
“Sittin’ on the deck of the boat…” Otis eat your
heart out!
Helena took to sitting
at the pointy end waiting for big waves…
Puerto de Soller
We anchored for a night in Puerto de Soller, a
hot, busy harbour.
Puerto de Soller.
We took the tram past orange groves up into the
old town, built 2 km inland to protect it from pirate attacks in the old
days.
On the way to Soller.
Shades of La Coruña.
Glamour girlies.
Sunset over the harbour
entrance.
Northwards and
eastwards
We motored on, and on, and on past a craggy
coastline.
Mallorca’s rugged west coast (the
white ‘dot’ in the centre is a yacht, giving an idea of the scale of the
cliffs).
Ditto.
David caught two tuna, so it was tuna and salad
for tea.
Not tuna again, Daddy!
Playa de Coll
Baix
Our final anchorage before delivering Jenny and
Helena to Alcoudia was Playa de Coll Baix. We spent 2 days and nights here,
swimming, reading, eating, drinking and talking lots more junk far into the
night. At one point Jenny and Helena decided to scale the cliffs in the
midday sun, taking the goat track not the people track to the top. Apparently
the view was amazing. Another memorable moment was when the loo got blocked
(again!) and David went for a midnight swim, starkers, armed with a 16” bent BBQ
skewer to poke up the offending outlet. He poked hard and swam harder when the
blockage unblocked in a cloud of brown **!!?&!, much to everyone’s relief
and amusement.
Swimming in warm, clear, turquoise
water.
Sunrise over Playa de
Coll Baix.
We did have to share this
anchorage!
Anne Hammock joins us on the boat (sorry, boatie
‘in’ joke). OK, so I don’t work all of the time!
We left in a bit of a hurry at 5 am when the wind
got up, turning our calm anchorage into something resembling the inside of a
washing machine. We scuttled into the marina at Alcoudia to deliver our guests
to dry, stable land.
Alcoudia
Once installed in the marina in Alcudia, the
girlies went off to collect the keys for their apartment, and we washed (the
boat, all our washing, and ourselves), charged the batteries, and enjoyed an
evening ashore.
Alcudia bay.
We had a few beers in your honour,
Sandra!
They scrubbed up well after 7 days
adrift!
Jenny and Helena kidnapped the kids and David and
I had to talk to each other all night.
David and me in grown up mode.
The day the dinghy
died
You hum it, I’ll play it…Unfortunately the dinghy
floor died in Alcudia and as a new one was going to cost €600 (for just the
floor) and take a month to arrive, we ended up buying a new dinghy (plundering
our embryonic new-engine fund to do so). Typical – just after we had sold the
Walker
Bay! Never mind, this
dinghy (baby RHIB) is much better all round (well, boat-shaped rather than round
actually, with a pert little aluminium bottom). We will store the Avon and look out for a new floor for
it.
I just couldn’t resist this – the ultimate white
van man shot!
Next thrilling instalment to follow soon –
promise!
