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!