20th-22nd May
Safely moored to the buoy, we escaped below decks and enjoyed a celebratory glass of wine listening to the rain pounding on the roof, feeling smug.
Our original permit was for two nights but we were able to extend for a third night giving us time for some short walks around the bay.
The first hike, of course, had to be to the castle on the headland, a short walk, steep in places, along a dirt track, taking pictures, catching fleeting glimpses of the many small, black lizards we could hear scratching around in the undergrowth and trying to identify the various plants that we saw. Other than gulls, we saw very few birds. The castle is in good condition, some renovation work having been carried out. (I belong to the school of thought that prefers to see ancient buildings rebuilt in their original style rather than look at a ruin and try to imagine what it once looked like.) The views in every direction were breathtaking. Small as castles go, the only part of it that was open to the public were the stairs leading to the roof. It had to be the narrowest, steepest, darkest staircase I have ever come across, spiralling round and round in the dark so that soon all sense of direction was lost. Definitely not for the fainthearted.
The major hike we attempted was to the lighthouse on Punta Anciola on the south western tip of the island, for which a permit was required. Sitting on Ganymede we could see the track that led to the lighthouse, meandering over the island, along a valley and up and over, out of sight, to the lighthouse that we knew was there. So, on the morning of our second day we headed ashore with the intention of applying for both an extra night and a permit for the lighthouse. I thought this would require some time and had intended to go back to Ganymede for a picnic lunch, and water. The permits were issued there and then so we decided to forego the picnic and leave immediately.
The track led along the shore. There was plenty to look at: a small electricity generating station the aim of which was to use mostly solar energy but with diesel as a backup. A small hamlet, the second jetty, some beaches and then we were round the head of the bay, making our way round the other side and up into the countryside. The road was good and on either side the vegetation was thick with shrubs and low-growing trees, mainly wild olive and juniper. In a few days it would look stunning, the wild flowers were in bud, ready to open out. The only sound seemed to be that of the small lizards that are everywhere on the island: apparently there are at least ten varieties that are found only on Cabrera. They scuttle around, running for cover as we approach. No bird song though.
We were climbing steadily now, winding round in a series of hairpin bends. There was little shade and the sun was getting stronger. We kept going, certain that round the next bend, over the next hill, we would see the lighthouse, be almost there. When we did eventually reach the final summit, round the final bend and see the lighthouse, disaster! We were only halfway there! Not only that, the road led down a valley and then snaked up in a series of zigzags that rose slowly to the lighthouse. To make matters worse, there was no shade to be had, just the sun beating down on white stony ground, reflecting its rays back up on the weary traveller. Reluctantly we decided that it would be unwise to continue, not without water. So we turned around and slowly made our way back to the main jetty, looking forward to a long, cool drink at the cafeteria before going back to Ganymede.
Other than taking short walks, our time on Cabrera was mostly spend on board Ganymede, amazing at the slow pace of life, the tranquility of it. How would one live there? Perhaps it would be an idyllic retreat for someone who wanted to write a novel, or paint, or unwind from a stressful existence. There were maybe four landrovers on the island, a lorry with a crane and a pickup truck. No journey seemed to be too small to require the use of one or other of them. In the evening the lorry was there to unload boxes and crates that came in on the supply vessel (doesn't that sound grand... supply vessel). What a life. I wondered how long I could live like that before needing to visit a supermarket, or wander through a busy town. Not long, I suspected.
One of our favourite things was to feed the gulls. It started with feeding bread to the fish - this had been a highly recommended 'thing to do' when on Cabrera. But the gulls got there first. Now, the fish were monsters and the gulls obviously held them in great respect. If the fish got there first, the gulls were not going to argue with them. However, in order to avoid losing a foot, or a leg, or sustaining some other serious injury, the gulls had become great acrobats, able to catch bread mid-flight. Tony started to deliberately throw the bread high in the air so that they had a better chance of catching it before it hit the water. They were amazing. Round they would go, like a pilot approaching a runway, line up for the bread and... gulp... it was gone and round the gull would go again, ready for the next morsel. When they finally accepted that no more bread would be forthcoming most of them would fly off, leaving one poor bird to sit and wait, and watch, ready to give word when the next meal was on offer. Or that's what we figured was going on.
The joy of Cabrera was the tranquility. There are no jet skis, no power boats in the bay. Only yachts, the occasional fishing boat and the two ferries that visit every day at this time of year. There will be more in summer. Visitors are limited to 200 each day, 300 in high season, and they stay on the island for only a couple of hours. Then the island is left to the few permanent residents and the visiting yachts sitting in the bay.
We would have stayed longer, we will go back.
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