Our passage to Mallorca was windless and basically, boring. The most exciting moment was when the fishing line paid out at great speed and we started discussing whether to have rice or sautéed potatoes with the obviously huge tuna that was making off with our pink sparkly squid lure. Unfortunately, neither rice nor sautéed potatoes go well with large plastic bags, no matter how inventive the cook.

We arrived at Puerto Colom and – after about eight attempts in two different anchorages – we eventually found a patch of sand rather than weed, and got the anchor to hold. We should mention that this wasn’t just any weed we were pulling up in clumps, it was Posidonia oceanica or Neptune grass. This seagrass plays a very important role in the Med’ stabilizing the sea bed, providing food and shelter for marine life, acting as a carbon sink, and is basically the source of the soft white sand (which is made up of the calcareous remains of fauna that live on the grass). In some areas anchoring is now prohibited to allow regeneration of the Posidonia oceanica fields. A number of free mooring buoys are provided instead so that people can visit these areas without digging up the weed with their anchors. In case you landlubbers are feeling smug about this, I must add that it isn’t just us boatie people who are wreaking havoc on the Posidonia oceanica – land-based sources of pollution (sewage, industrial pollutants, and agricultural fertilizers) pose the biggest threat to the stuff.

The rather fine lighthouse at Puerto Colom (just one from my extensive collection of photos of lighthouses and sunsets…).

At anchor in Puerto Colom.

Palma

After just one night in Puerto Colom we pushed on to Palma Bay, to anchor in Les Illetes and meet up with Altika. We almost managed to meet up with Richard Green – a friend from Oxford – who was on a charter holiday in Palma, but we passed each other at some point going in different directions around the island (ships in the night and all that).

Altika at anchor in Les Illetes.

It was brilliant to catch up with Johan and Christine and to meet Alex who was staying with them. We swapped technical hitch horror stories and generally put the world to rights over a glass or two of wine. The children cooked for us all one evening – American pancakes à la Bryn followed by sizzling bananas à la Bethany. We went sightseeing in Palma, wandering around the city and admiring the architecture of the Gothic style cathedral, started in 1229 and still not quite finished. Gaudi was invited to project manage its restoration in 1901, but apparently he fell out with the contractor and abandoned the project in 1914.

A touch of Gaudi – the cathedral in Palma.

Flying buttresses and gargoyles abound.

Lookout towers on the walls.

Looking across Palma Bay towards the cruise ship dock.

After this culture overload, we were inexplicably drawn back to look at the boats in the miles and miles of marinas that line the Palma waterfront.

The alloy forest lining the Palma waterfront.

Johan and Christine are both experienced scuba divers and Christine is a dive instructor. They took us, one by one (yes the kids too) on a trial dive. It was amazing! It’s impossible to find the words to describe what it felt like to be under the water – and still breathing!

And from Captain Fantastique’s portfolio…

We left Palma behind to retrace our route around the west coast of Mallorca. The last time we came this way with Jenny and Helena we were windless and had to motor all the way. This time, however, we had WIND and we were able to goose wing (when we put a sail out either side of the mast to catch the wind blowing from directly behind us) past Isla Dragonera and on to Puerto Soller, getting a respectable 5.5 knots from an 8-knot wind. I have sneaked a picture of goose winging – in two parts – from Captain Fantastique’s portfolio of photos of sails from unusual angles.

Goose winging – part one (top).

Goose winging – part two (bottom).

When he isn’t taking photos of sails from unusual angles, David takes photos of bits of boats. I though that those of you who haven’t seen CAPE might like to see what our cockpit instrument panel looks like. From left to right we have:

·                    electronic chart plotter

·                    GPS (latitude and longitude, time, speed, and direction)

·                    echosounder (depth of water under the keel)

·                    autopilot (‘Helmut’ – he steers most of the time)

·                    wind speed and direction

·                    VHF radio

Also hidden in the picture is David’s hat (squished behind the chart plotter), the folding landing net, a blue Dot light, a Nintendo DS, a winch handle, camera, baby wipes (for vomiting children), a fishing reel cover (blue canvas), and David’s a plastic cricket-box-type arrangement that the fishing rod handle fits into.

CAPE’s instruments and other important junk.

Not only did we sail, but we also saw flying fish, and a pretty red-brown-and-black-and-white-striped bird that landed on deck briefly. We looked it up in our bird book and identified it as a Eurasian Hoopoe.

Goodbye to the Altikans!

We met up with Johan, Christine and Alex again in Puerto Soller, treating ourselves to a couple of nights in the Port Authority berths to fill up with water, charge the batteries and deal with the Everest of dirty laundry in the heads (that was threatening to get off the boat on its own if we didn't do something with it soon). We found a cheap self-service laundrette and boil washed everything (five machine loads). However, I suspect that a boil wash on top of the bleaching effect of the sun, the effects of salt and the mould from damp towels at the bottom of the pile means that most things are likely to fall apart as soon as we put them on.

We went out for a farewell drink with the Altikans before they pointed her nose uphill and headed to the frozen north (well, OK, southern France).

Captain Fantastique holding court...

…lulling Christine and Johan into a relaxed semi-conscious state.

Olé, olé, olé, olé – B&B riding the Soller bulls.

Captain Ron ready for the off.

The last we heard, the Altikans were having to wear socks in bed, but so far, nothing important has dropped off due to frostbite. We’ll miss them and hope they’ll be coming to visit us for ‘The CAPE Experience’ at some point.

Our own exit from Puerto Soller was a little less smooth. We picked up the lazy line around the prop on the way out, so David had to go swimming in the marina to clear it. Luckily there was no damage to the prop and we eventually escaped.

Puerto Pollensa

From Puerto Soller we continued clockwise around the island to Puerto Pollensa where we picked up one of the ‘free’ mooring buoys. The theory of picking up mooring buoys is simple – David drives as close as he can alongside the buoy, I lean over with a boathook and pick up a small float that we pull on board and to which we attach our line. Of course, the reality is never quite as streamlined. For a start, once we get the bows near to the buoy, David can’t see it in the water and relies on me to say ‘left a bit’ or ‘right a bit’ and so on. With the engine running he can’t hear a thing, so I shout to the children and they relay the instructions – by which time, we have usually passed the buoy. On this particular occasion we had 15–20 knots of wind across the decks, which blew us off course quite quickly and made it very difficult to go slowly up to the buoy. It didn’t help that after our recent lazy-line-around-prop experience, I was panicking about us running over the buoy and getting the line around the prop, and then when I did manage to hook the float, I wasn’t strong enough to hang on to it as CAPE’s svelte 16 tons was blown slowly off. In the end, it took us six attempts to pick it up the line and hang on to it long enough to attach our line, cost us a pair of Raybans and mangled the boathook!

Tethered to the offending mooring buoy.

Sunset over Puerto Pollensa.

The weather blew up overnight, with gusts of up to 30 knots, so we were snug and smug on our mooring buoy and glad not to have to worry about the anchor dragging.

The next few days were spent snorkelling, cooking, rebuilding the outboard, dropping screwdrivers overboard, and working on our current school project – birds. We tackled bird anatomy and learned that many birds have a keel! We read about ostrich, toucans and penguins, and the saloon is now festooned with birdy artwork.

Our origami penguins with googly eyes.

Bryn finds a solution to crying when chopping onions.

Birthday bonanza in Alcudia

We moved on to Alcudia for the next few days, celebrating both my birthday and Bryn’s with a posh meal ashore. Bryn was delighted to find ostrich on the menu – perfect research for the bird project!

My birthday – nobody dare mention tough old bird…

Bethany loves an excuse to get dressed up!

Bethany made Bryn’s birthday cake – lemon drizzle – with just enough room for 9 candles.

The birthday boy wreaking havoc on a rack of Tex-Mex ribs.

We had ordered a new prop for the outboard and that was waiting for us in Alcudia. David fitted this and we were able to get around the anchorage much more easily, although we still have an intermittent fault that makes it cut out every now and again for no apparent reason. Being at anchor practically all of the time over the past 3 months has been really tough on the batteries, particularly as I have worked quite a lot and we have had to use the inverter to power the laptop. The fridge is also a big drain on the batteries. To keep the batteries topped up means running the engine for quite a few hours each day, which is noisy, heavy on diesel and hard on the (delicate vintage) engine. To overcome the power situation, we ordered a small petrol generator which eventually found its way from the UK to Alcudia and onto CAPE.

Sunset over Alcudia Bay.

Moonrise over the commercial dock in Alcudia (a little light relief after the lighthouses and sunsets).

The weather definitely became more unsettled with the arrival of September. We have had high winds carrying a fine red dust that turned the deck and the ropes pink, stifling days (up to 38ºC), humid nights (up to 87%), cold nights (cold enough to need a sleeping bag over us rather than a sheet), and dramatic thunderstorms. As we wanted to head east towards Sardinia, the wind stayed firmly from the east. Eventually we got a window in the weather we set off for Mahon – the first leg of our passage to Sardinia.