July 14, 2019
We were meant to leave the following morning for Cala San Vicenze, the small cala on the other side of the peninsula we had hiked to the previous day. We had to change our plans last minute, as San Vicenze offers no shelter from northerly winds and swell, both of which were forecast to be an issue that night. That evening in the cala would have been uncomfortable at least if not potentially unsafe. This lifestyle is teaching us the need to always be flexible with your plans. You are always at the mercy of the wind and weather, and you don't play Russian Roulette with Mother Nature. You let her win. So we decided to spend one final night on our mooring ball in Port de Pollenca, where even in high winds, we should be OK given the mooring is attached to a massive concrete block on the seabed. We spent the evening wandering around the port one last time, enjoying the bustle but also ready to get away from the throngs of tourists and to somewhere hopefully more secluded.
After checking the weather the next day to confirm the wind had shifted and that our intended anchorage should be safe, we psyched ourselves up for our next task: refueling the boat! This would be our first experience refueling on our own. The ensuing experience was a good exercise in teamwork, communication, and thinking on your feet. I volunteered to be at the helm. The fuel pontoon was just inside the harbour entrance on other other side of the breakwater. We had scoped it out the evening prior and settled on the strategy to approach the dock bow first and to tie up on our port side. We got our lines and fenders set, unwound Florence from her mooring lines (that had gotten horribly tangled during our absence and took about 45 minutes to wrestle off), and headed slowly into the harbour. The fuel pontoon was unfortunately already quite busy, even in the early morning, so we waited patiently, playing on the revs to keep the boat in place in the tight space while we looked for an opening. Opening found, I began to head in slowly, setting my approach angle, when a large power vessel cut right in front of us and took our spot. OK, time for a new strategy, and fast! I thought about just spinning around and aborting, re-trying again in 30 minutes or so when these boats had hopefully left, but the dockhand at the fuel pontoon insisted he could squeeze us in at the end of the pontoon behind the boat that had nicked our spot. I guess we could try that. Stephen rearranged some fenders and lines, while I started reversing into the tiny spot, not quite sure how this dude expected us to fit there. The spot was only about 30 feet in length to Florence's 55. I would have to try to perch her butt against the pontoon, just enough to be tied off, and hopefully we could use a long line to keep our bow from swinging out into the marina. Again, slow is always pro when parking the boat in my book, and I inched Florence backwards, eventually just kissing the dock with her stern, at which point we tied up quickly and the dockhand gave us the enormous nozzle to begin refueling. We topped up her tanks, which didn't take long, as we hadn't used all that much fuel since our last refill in Gibraltar. All paid up, we were ready to leave. We had a strong cross wind blowing us off, so we decided to use it to our benefit, untying our bow line first and allowing her bow to get blown off naturally, pivoting on the stern line like a lever. Stephen slipped the stern line at the last minute, and I steered us gently around, keeping the boat's turning momentum and barely using the engine as we slipped cleanly away from the pontoon and back out towards the mouth of the marina. That was a sense of relief. I know Stephen and I were a little nervous about the first solo refueling operation, especially in those crowded conditions. Filled with fuel and even a little bit of self-confidence, we pointed Florence out to sea.
We had a nice if somewhat belaboured sail around the coast. Our sail out of the bay was lovely, with some decent wind on our beam, but once we rounded the peninsula, we were dead downwind of our destination. Time to get our tack on! While progress tacking into the wind was slow, it was still an enjoyable sail, and we were reminded just how dramatic the northern coastline of Mallorca is. We could really appreciate the tall, sleep cliffs plunging into the sea now that we could see them in full daylight. Stunning as the scenery was, after a couple hours of tacking into the wind and not getting all that far, we decided to motor the rest of the way in. Call me a fair weather sailor, but after a while, tacking dead upwind gets a little tedious, and we were ready to get to our anchorage and to take a dive into the sea. We arrived in Cala San Vicenze, which upon approach from the water looked even more beautiful than it had from land. There are 2 or 3 large resorts on the beachfront, so the cala is not by any means deserted deserted, but it was much quieter than our last port of call, and we were surprisingly the only boat in the entire bay. Surely that is unheard of in the Med in the height of summer... We weren't complaining. The cala, full of shockingly clear turquoise water and surrounded to the east and west by steep, jagged cliffs, was begging us to drop the hook and stay for a couple of days. Twist my arm.
After a long swim, we dried off and enjoyed a quiet dinner on the boat, soaking in our surroundings and happy to be away from the fray. Cooking dinner on our boat and eating in the cockpit looking out over the water has been one of my absolute favourite things about this trip. Talk about having the best table in the house :) While there was not much wind that evening, there was a decent amount of swell, which made for a rolly night. The swell was just enough so the effect was less a gentle rocking to sleep motion and more of a barrel-rolling from one side of the bed to the other type of motion. Uncomfortable, yes - dangerous, no. So we stuck it out and tried not to get too annoyed when getting crushed by each other at various points of the night. Hopefully the swell will calm down tomorrow, as multiple sleepless nights make for a cranky crew!
The next morning, we woke up to another day of blazing sunshine. We decided over coffee and eggs in the cockpit that we needed a few days to chill out, as the last couple weeks had seen only 1-2 days of actual relaxation. We were craving some proper R&R before embarking on our next passage, which would be a roughly 20-hour sail into Barcelona. After breakfast, we dinghied ashore and took advantage of the cala's topography with an absolutely gruelling work out. We ran all the way up and down the steep cliff face on the east side of the cala a few times, then continued with our attempt at the 30-day squat challenge we had begun the week prior. I love my husband to bits, but about halfway up the cliff the third time around, I found myself wishing I had one of those fat, lazy husbands who just wants to sit around, drink beer, and watch his stomach protrude ever further. Surely that would be easier?? At least we managed to get some stunning shots of Florence bobbing below in the calm anchorage, now the only boat in the entire bay.
Thighs burning, dripping with sweat, the only antidote to that hour of hell was a jump off the boat into that bright blue water. There is something about perching right at the bow of the boat and diving into the water that makes you feel like you're 10 years old again, in the best of ways. It was so freeing, and there was not a jellyfish in sight. You best believe after my Ibiza fiasco, I check religiously before contemplating a dive.
Even though these were R&R days, there is always work to do on the boat. We needed to secure a marina berth for our Barcelona trip, as there are no acceptable anchorages in the area, and needed to check the weather to come up with a passage plan. After a couple weeks in 90+ degree heat, we also felt it was high time we switched our wardrobes around from winter to summer clothing. Florence is pretty roomy as far as a sailboat goes, but anyone who is at all attached to their closet space would have some adjusting to do. It's a good thing we gave away 90% of our clothes and shoes before embarking on this trip. We are realising, you just don't need that much stuff, and life is actually a lot simpler without it. It was slightly comical folding up all my fleeces and long underwear that were so essential in Scotland. The thought now of putting those things on my constantly sweat-slicked body was positively cringeworthy! Sailing around the Hebrides seemed a world away, even though it had only been a handful of weeks. So much has happened since we set sail, it's hard to believe that we are only a couple months into this wild adventure.
After cleaning the stainless steel and running the watermaker, we decided to take a trip to dry land to tackle some other nagging jobs. Stephen wanted to spend some time working on getting our drone flying (wise to do the first test flight from land), while I wanted to finally get the blog up and running. Though I'd been writing about all our experiences in real time whenever I could find a spare moment, I had yet to get the design of our website to my liking and to actually post any of our stories. It was weighing on me, as we were now over 2 months into the trip. Time to get my act together and get the damn thing up!
After a couple hours' on land with Stephen trying not to piss off the beachgoers with the drone and me realising just how not tech-savvy I am, we were happy to take a break and reward our productive day with a peaceful evening walk. We spent the evening walking along the cliffs of the cala, which afforded some great views of Florence floating nearby. Afterwards, we found a small restaurant literally hanging over the beach and managed to snag a table right at the front overlooking Florence and her new neighbour, Shadow. Shadow belongs to a friend of ours named Richard Donnell who had arrived in our bay earlier that afternoon. Richard hails from Scotland and spends a few months each summer sailing around the Med with his four-legged companion Pablo. We had plans to connect with them the following day. As we sat looking out at Florence, sipping wine and eating local fish, I was overwhelmed with a sense of satisfaction, a feeling I struggle with on dry land. This is what Stephen and I had worked for - to be able to share a moment like this, reflecting over dinner on everything we'd learned and all the adventures yet to come.
The following day, Richard dinghied over to Florence with Pablo for a visit. While Pablo gave the boat the full sniff test, Richard regaled us with his sailing tales of the Med. By his account, it seems the Balearics are not by any means a straightforward place to sail. They are marked by unpredictable winds that can blow in quickly and fiercely, mostly from the north. The steep topography also makes the types of katabatic winds we had experienced a couple nights prior not uncommon. I get the sense sailors like to trade war stories more than they do the serene, issue-free experiences. We don't tend to hear a ton of stories about smooth sunset sails capped off with a bottle of cold rose, but you best believe we will hear about the time someone got de-masted or caught in a biblical storm for 3 days or [fill in the terrifying blank]. Just judging on the types of anecdotes seasoned sailors share, I'm not quite sure why anyone without a death wish would want to do this! I guess if you've earned your battle scars, you might as well share the stories. I'm sure Stephen and I will have a few harrowing tales of our own before this adventure is said and done. Hearing Richard's views on the fickle weather patterns of the Balearics, we wondered if maybe we were pushing our luck having survived this long without a major incident and that perhaps we should move on before overstaying our welcome...
Our plan was indeed to leave the following day, as we had a found good weather window for our crossing to Barcelona. We intended to leave around 1 PM for what would be an overnight sail, arriving the following afternoon in a marina where we had secured a berth. But first, one last night enjoying this lovely cala. Richard invited us over to Shadow that evening for drinks with him and his father, who was sailing with him for a while. Shadow was a lovely boat indeed and one Richard had been fixing up continuously over the past few years. We had a great time sitting in the cockpit hearing more about Richard's sailing experiences in and around the Med, including tips on good anchorages, must-see spots, places best avoided, weather patterns, etc. We have dubbed Richard the "Med Whisperer," as he seems to know just about everything there is to know about sailing in these parts, and we will no doubt continue to follow his recommendations. We are learning that the pilot books, while helpful for navigation in and out of harbours, don't tend to give that much information on good spots to anchor. We're also learning to take the information in them with a grain of salt, as much of it appears to be outdated. We wondered in a few instances if the authors had actually been to the places they were writing about, or if they were just shipping it in Rick Steves style and collecting the royalties. I actually think it would be quite fun to write a pilot book and to go far more in depth than just outlying certain navigational hazards and really delve into the places we've sailed, sharing first hand-experiences. After drinks, we headed ashore to meet up with some of Stephen's friends who were holidaying with their kids in neighbouring Port de Pollenca. They drove over for the evening for a catch up, and was lovely to see them. The kids seemed to get a kick out of our journey, pointing to the boat and asking incredulously, "You live there? Are you a pirate?" Not yet, kids - though we may have to resort to that if things on the boat keep breaking! Stephen and I capped the night off with a casual dinner at a small local restaurant, where I think I officially OD'd on paella. I definitely need to take a break from the rice for a while... We hit the hay early, as we had a relatively decent list of things to get done before weighing anchor and heading for Barcelona the following day. Cala San Vicenze, you've been an oasis of tranquility for a couple days, but we have places to sail! Barcelona or bust, baby.
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