July 10, 2019
After a truly wonderful break in Lisbon, it was time to head back to Florence to see if she missed us. Lisbon, man - what an awesome town. Though we'd sailed right by Lisbon after our Biscay crossing, I had yet to see the city itself. Stephen had been once before for a stag though admits his memories of it are a bit foggy. I was really struck by what a vibrant city it is. It has so much going on, a city steeped in history that simultaneously has a real sense of now-ness. It is old and young at the same time - an ambitious city with amazing food and friendly, heterogeneous people. And it's relatively cheap to boot. Our first lunch, we went to a traditional hole in the wall Portuguese restaurant our AirBnB host had recommended, and I was surprised when after ordering what I thought was a glass of wine for EUR5, they brought me a bottle. Mind you, it wasn't the best wine I'd ever tasted, but you best believe we got through it happily. The trip was capped off by my friends Patrick and Pedro's gorgeous and over the top wedding at the ornate Pestana Palace in the middle of town. As great as this sailing adventure has been so far, I would be lying if I said I didn't get lonely at times and didn't miss my friends. This opportunity to see so many of my old college buddies in one fell swoop was a real treat. I was not only a guest but a performer at the wedding, as Patrick had convinced his old Harvard a cappella group to dust off their vocal chords for a performance at the ceremony. We may not have been "jam ready," as they say, but hopefully we didn't embarrass him too much, and regardless it felt great to be singing my little heart out with all my favourite weirdos from days gone by.
Stephen and I were both a tiny bit melancholy as we trudged back to the airport, as is typical of any good mini break, but we were also ready to get back to Flo. I can say I genuinely missed her and just hoped she was all right bobbing alone on that ball without us. Although we can't claim we had left her completely unsupervised - we of course commissioned Stephen's parents to keep an eye on her while we were away, and we couldn’t have asked for 2 more diligent people. Peter apparently took a walk to the end of the marina wall twice a day to make sure she was still in place. Sue told us one night their dinner table had a perfect vista of Florence, but that after appetizers, Peter had them move to a different table, as all the wake from the weekend traffic coming in and out of the harbour knocking Florence about was just too stressful to watch! Ironically, at the same time, her owners were probably drinking and dancing the night away, blissfully unaware of what was going on with our dear boat. I guess out of sight, out of mind is a real thing.
Reality was quick to set back in once back aboard Florence, who was absolutely fine when we rejoined her. That first night back on board, we experienced some really wild weather. As we were getting ready to go ashore to meet Stephen's parents for dinner, we saw these dark, red clouds rolling in quickly. A few moments later, the skies opened up, covering the boat in a thick, muddy rain. Apparently these rains aren't that uncommon in the Balearics and are the result of winds bringing red sand up from Africa. We needed to get off the boat, and fast, as it looked as if the storm was only just beginning. Thunder started to clap, and the sky lit up with streaks of lightening. A sailboat is one of the least comfortable places to be in an electrical storm. Sitting out on the water like a lame duck with a 23 meter metal stick pointing straight into the sky is not an ideal scenario. We do have a lightning conductor rigged to our mast that should conduct the current downwards before dispelling it into the water, but there would still be damage done. All of our electrical systems would be blown, and we would have to get the boat hauled out for a thorough inspection to ensure there was no structural damage. As there was nothing we could do about that eventuality now, we just prayed the lightning would find something taller to strike and shoved our lap tops, iPads, etc. into the microwave (protects them in the event). We zoomed ashore in what was our fastest dinghy ride yet, planing over the waves while I literally held onto my hat and the dinghy for dear life. The storm was now lighting up the whole sky, and we couldn't get ashore fast enough. By the time we stepped onto the quai and took refuge under a hotel awning, we were both covered in mud rain, like dirty drowned rats, which wasn't exactly the look we were going for that evening but we didn't care. We were just happy to be off the boat! We waited out what was an absolutely torrential downpour for the next hour, before the rain let up and the thunder eased off. We enjoyed a relaxed and dry dinner ashore before dinghying back to the boat, hoping for a quiet night.
That was not what mother nature had in store for us, however. The wind really kicked up after the rain had blown through, and in the middle of the night some strong gusts came whipping across the bay. These types of winds are called katabatic winds and can rush in quickly and unexpectedly. These winds carry dense air from a higher elevation down sloping cliffs under the force of gravity and can reach hurricane speeds, though most are not as intense as that. Due to its steep topography, north Mallorca has these types of winds not infrequently. To complicate matters that night, another pesky little boat had picked up a mooring just next to ours, far too close for comfort. At a certain wind angle, they came so close to us we could have easily hopped from our boat to theirs. I stood on deck from 3-5 AM watching the boat like a hawk, praying the wind would shift to move it further away. I was also surprised when I looked at the depth gauge around 4 AM and realised the depth had mysteriously dropped from 1.8 meters below our keel to a mere 0.3 of a meter! What was happening tonight??? Take me back to Lisbon and our AirBnB that was not about to drag anchor and/or run aground and/or be bashed in by another boat. We stayed up for the rest of the night, monitoring the wind, our depth, and the proximity of the other boat. Ahh, it’s good to be back!
Things seemed less dire in the daylight. The wind had shifted and brought our boat to a more comfortable depth, and that shitty little boat that had caused us so much grief had buggered off. Florence didn't look like she'd particularly enjoyed the storm either. She was covered in a reddish brown sludge from the rainstorm, which is apparently very corrosive and not good for the boat's teak decks or stainless steel fittings. We would have to give Florence a thorough clean today. First things first though! There was a positive development in that our bimini and frame had finally arrived at Stephen's parents' hotel. We went to their room to collect them and saw the enormous and very unwieldy bimini frame taking up most of their living room. While we couldn't really see it as it was wrapped in brown packaging, it definitely didn't look right and had this wonky shape. It must have gotten damaged in transit.
The next question was how on earth we were going to get this thing down the stairs, across the harbour, and onto our boat. There was no way it would fit in our dinghy. With a lot of logistical shuffling about, Team Florence managed to get the frame down the steps and out the front door of the hotel. We must have looked a motley crew carrying this enormous wonky brown package that looked a bit like a massive paper mache banana through the crowded streets. Once on the pontoon, we found the locals to be decidedly unhelpful. We asked anyone we could find if they knew someone who could give the bimini frame a lift to our boat, which was only about 200M away. We were met with a lot of shoulder shrugs and head shakes. Thank you, you've been helpful. We finally let some dude extort us out of EUR50 to lift the bimini frame over to Florence on his rib. The two Rishworth men assisted, and since we couldn't all fit, Sue and I watched from a cafe on the pontoon and ordered iced coffees. I was a bit confused when the server came back with two big bowls containing a shot of espresso covered with a mound of vanilla ice cream and enough whipped cream to sink Florence. Apparently this is Port de Pollenca's version of an iced coffee? They were pretty gross, but we went for it anyway. Once absolutely filled to the brim with cream, we rejoined the boys who had safely deposited the frame onto the boat, and we all took Rum Jumby back to Florence.
Now I don't know what your parents typically do on their holidays, but let me tell you that I am officially nominating Peter and Sue for Best Parents Ever. That afternoon we gave them a snapshot into what boat life is really like. In the oppressive 90 degree heat, they spent the better part of the next 3 hours onboard with us, the last day of their holiday mind you, helping us assemble the bimini and clean the red mud off Florence's decks and windows. Peter had been a career engineer so was very helpful in figuring out just how the bimini frame attached and which tools to use. It was really cute watching Stephen and his father tackle the task together. Meanwhile, poor Sue was on cleaning duty with me. As I doused the filthy decks with water, she followed me around with our deck brush scrubbing the mud off the teak. What a trooper! Once the bimini was assembled, we could see it had indeed been bent wildly out of shape somewhere along its journey from Southampton to Lisbon to Mallorca. Although decidedly lopsided, we finally had a bimini aboard and thus a way to get out of the relentless sun! By this point, it was late afternoon and we were all sweaty, red-faced, and more than ready for a cold beer. Stephen and I figured we had sufficiently ruined the last day of his parents' holiday, so we should probably take them to lunch. We apologised profusely over some beers and sandwiches, although Peter and Sue said they genuinely enjoyed the experience and getting a window into our lives on the boat. What absolute gems. I love my parents to pieces, but I don't think I could pay them enough to spend their final day on holiday scrubbing mud off my boat's decks. They would probably politely tell me what I could do with that suggestion! (Love you, Mom).
Team Florence decided to stretch their legs and went on a hike to a bay on the other side of the peninsula called Cala San Vicente. It was warm work hiking up through the valley to the other side, but we were rewarded with some pretty stunning views once we emerged above the cala. Cala San Vicente is a much smaller and less crowded bay than Port de Pollenca. It is dominated by a few beachfront resorts surrounded by a small town with a handful of shops and restaurants. The place was really lovely, and Stephen and I looked at each other excitedly when we saw the entire bay had a sandy bottom. We would definitely be bringing Florence here for a few nights, where we could drop the hook, swim off the boat, and not worry about the Spanish police trying to catch us out on the sea grass and slap us with an enormous fine. It seems an absurdly harsh penalty to be able to claim 10% of a boat's value if it's anchor is caught out on grass, and we heard it is going a long way to discourage yachts from sailing around Mallorca. What is likely the culprit killing the sea grass is run off pollution from all the large resorts lining the coastline, not the occasional scrape of an anchor. But, the Spanish authorities I think have caught onto a lucrative scheme, and they apparently aren't afraid to take advantage of it. Back in Port de Pollenca, we said goodbye to Stephen's parents who were headed back Wales, and we promised to stay in touch and to stay safe. We thanked them again for all their help and made them honorary crew on Florence for life. Peter and Sue, just to reiterate, you are welcome to come clean our boat anytime! There may even be another Florence Spritz in it for you, if you are lucky :)
Stay tuned as we sail Florence to Cala San Vicente this week to rejoin life on the hook!
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