SERENITY NOW

  We’re in Gib. Neither of us feeling on top form, we’ve spent a few days in a turmoil of whether to head to the Canaries or remain here. There’s so many factors to consider, and neither of us are in a good way to make these decisions. Being a little run down and not eating much, I succumbed to a bout of man flu which saw me miserably laid up in the cabin for 24 hrs. Mid afternoon, Chez decided that the rapid onset of a hacking cough and associated moany husband could conceivably be Covid, and decided to use up one of our self tests to be sure. After a gag inducing swab around, she exited the cabin, and I returned my congested head to the pillow. Five minutes later I hear the words: “You’ve got Covid!” Oh dear.... that’s put another spanner in the works to add to the bag of them that’s already been dropped on us. Thankfully, I’d actually mis-heard, and incorrectly translated “It’s not Covid”. Well that’s one less thing to worry about! We finally decided that we should leave the boa...

  On the boat, our house batteries had begun to show little signs that they were on their last legs: low volts, the sound of boiling acid... and the signature smell of hydrogen sulphide in the air - that’s bad eggs if you’re not familiar with it. Having checked how much the local chandlery were hoping to fleece us for some new ones, Chez managed to find some excellent replacement batteries online. They come in at less than half the price quoted at the Chandlers, an added bonus is that they provide ‘‘free’ 24hr shipping’. Well they did eventually arrive... after a long and frustrating week waiting around - not exactly 24 hrs! I can’t not write about it, but sorry to have to put the words down; Cheryl’s lovely little mum, Audrey unexpectedly passed away after a short time in hospital. This has left a heavy dark cloud over everything since, and makes all else seem rather trivial. We finally got away from Almerimar. We were glad to be leaving there, not the most inviting of locations, ...

  I’m writing this 4 metres above the ground, on the hard, in a dry and dusty boatyard in Almerimar.. but I’m getting ahead of myself, the trip to get down here being noteworthy. We had some long day sails, sun up to sundown that were genuinely lovely. O ccasionally having the engine on to help us along here and there we mainly glided under the force of the wind down the South Eastern coast of Spain. Bit of swell in the evenings, but not too bad that you couldn’t sleep, you’d just be woken now and again if the roll got out of hand for a moment or two. We met our first Spanish dolphins, they seem as delightfully playful as their Greek counterparts We’re also seeing an increased number of flying fish, somewhere between the size of your finger and a sausage - with a silvery flash they zip across the surface seemingly defying gravity for long distances - up to 10 metres or so. ...but the fish news doesn’t end there! Having purchased a shiny new rod and lure in Cartagena, I tried it out...

  The well defended port of Cartagena has been our home for the last two nights. It’s a mixed port: tourist cruisers, warships, container ships and marinas all enclosed by a large harbour. The outer harbour is full with pill boxes dotted on the surrounding cliffs to deter any unwanted guests. We’d booked to come here 2 years ago.. but with one thing and another it never quite happened. We used our long deposited €100 deposit to take a couple of nights out of the swell with the added luxuries of electricity, hot showers and washing machines. It’s strange being back in a marina; the liveaboard locals greeting us with either cautious glances or beaming grins. Anyway, not a bad spot. There’s a touch of bygone Empire about the harbourfront - with well spaced palm tree promenades and tall regal facades looking out onto the bay. This was all sadly obscured by ‘Aida’ a tower block of a cruise liner who’d all but covered the town on our arrival - we were glad when she tooted a deep bass f...

8 Sept 2021 Well, we’ve made it to the Spanish mainland! The touristy town of Calpe is our first stop. If someone had asked me 4 years ago what the first thing a sailor would think of when they touch land.. I may have mentioned wenches, rum, singing a cheery shanty or perhaps even tying some knots. What I wouldn’t have guessed, but now know, is that the activity which fills the sailors heart more than any other is the promise of a trip to Lidl (coming a close second would be emptying the bins and getting rid of the recycling). So anchored safely in the bay overlooked by the Gibraltaresque rock that dominates the town we did indeed head off to Lidl. The town of Calpe is an elongated strip of high rise hotels that line the shore, behind these lies a disused salt flat lake, now home to a flock of flamingos. There’s lots of holidaymakers here, and unlike other places we’ve stopped off, there’s a good proportion of English accents in the mix. Once fully provisioned, we spent a few days ther...

  Ibiza: Another location - like Corfu town - where the preconceived notion of the place didn't match the reality. If someone had asked me my expectations of Ibiza, I'd have described sweaty all night towns full of fluro clad, whistle blowing ravers dancing to hardcore dance music, loudly pumped from massive speakers on every corner. Shifty drug dealers, swollen lipped Instagram influencers in overpriced nightclubs, and marinas full of gaudy mega yachts - generally somewhere to briefly enjoy the spectacle from the sidelines then rapidly withdraw. What I didn’t expect was the UNESCO world heritage listed beauty of the North coast, bays with courteous neighbours who greet you with a smile, a wave and an ‘Hola’. We’ve spent the last three days in one such beautiful bay, lots of yacht neighbours, but the bay is big enough to accommodate us all with plenty of room to spare. Canoes and SUPs (stand up paddlebords) seem to be the most popular recreation, with a constant flow of people ...

  24 Aug 2021 We’ve spent the last few days tucked away in Santa Ponça. Other than a few carelessly driven jet skis, and despite it being a tourist town, it’s been a generally quiet place. There’s enough people on land to nearly fill the bars and restaurants, which must be great for the locals, who will have no doubt missed out over the last two years from Covid. There’s a fair variety of nationalities here, but most surprisingly for us was the number of lilting Irish accents heard as we strolled along behind the beach. I’m not sure if this is a feature of the Irish staying in the EU, a lack of lockdown rules or simply a well advertised Ryanair campaign. On our last day, Chez was messaging with a nice Australian lady, Soni, who we’d met back in Greece. Soni mentioned some friends of hers were in the same anchorage. In the afternoon, as I was swapping out our faded and weather worn British flag in my undies, a couple paddle up in their canoe to say 'Hi' - sure enough, it’s Soni’...