At anchor in Torrevieja harbour

28th June

We were at anchor in the harbour at Torrevieja. The sea wall is approximately a kilometre long. Inside, at a right angle to it and about halfway along, a new wall has been built and behind it a new marina, the Marina Salinas. Opposite this, on the shore side, is the International Marina, and next to that the Club Nautica so plenty of spaces for visiting boats. We had anchored on the other side of the new wall in what must be one of the safest, most comfortable anchorages on this part of the coast. At the entrance, coming out from the shore was a long jetty with what looked like a conveyor belt along it and a tall gantry.This, we realised, was where the salt boats come to load up. Torrevieja must be one of the most important salt centres in the Med.

One of our reasons for visiting Torrevieja was that we thought we may like to over-winter Ganymede there, if we stay in Spain as I would certainly like to do. We checked out all three marinas and decided that if we were to choose one of them it would be the Club Nautica since it was the cheapest, the nearest to town and seemed to have the best social facilities, that is, a good restaurant and club house.

On into town, it wasn't quite as bad as it looked. Again, from out at sea, it looked as though it was only apartment block after large apartment block after large apartment block. Again, once ashore, the bars and restaurants, the shops, the trees, all provided colour and shade, and there was a lively atmosphere with people enjoying a morning drink, shopping or simply spending time with friends. BUT: no WiFi to be found anywhere. Oh dear, this was not good news.

We spent the morning in town and then had lunch at one of the restaurants in the marina before heading back to Ganymede. The anchorage, almost empty when we left, was now filled with day boats, not quite as tightly packed at the apartment blocks... but getting close. A perfect summer afternoon spent on the water, swimming, sunbathing, relaxing with friends, away from the intense heat of the town. (Daytime temperatures are now generally in the low to mid 30s.)

In the evening we visited the three bars in the new marina and it was only in the last one that I found a wine that was drinkable. So, wine and tapas for dinner.

Next morning we watched as a large boat slowly entered the anchorage and slowly, slowly and carefully, tied up to the jetty. But we didn't wait to watch the salt being loaded on: Tony was on a mission, to get as far south as possible before I persuaded him to turn back and wait for Charlie.

Once again, the anchor was up and we were sailing off down the coast.

Isla de Tabarca

27th June

We left San Juan next morning. I didn't want to go, not really. I'd enjoyed it there, it had everything I need: a Club Nautico with a good restaurant, a WiFi connection and a Mercadona. Also, Charlie was coming to Spain in July and there was a possibility we would meet up. However, when I got the details it turned out that he was going to be near Moraira and not for almost three more weeks. A long time to be hanging around.

Our main reason for leaving: a swell had come in during the night and Ganymede had tossed this way and that, hour after hour after hour. So yes, we had to go!

The wind was again in the north east and again just enough to give us a good sail. Down the coast we went, past the never-ending rows of densely-packed high rises. There is a small island off Puerto Santa Pola, en route to Torrevieja. It has an interesting history, having been once a pirate base and then a garrison for the Spanish army. The island of Tabarca. Story has it that it is so-named because the first permanent residents were Genovese mercenaries rescued from the Tunisian island of Tabarka. We decided to make a detour and stop for lunch.

The most amazing thing about Tabarca is how there ever came to be a settlement there in the first place. At its highest point it is no more than 15 metres above sea-level.The island is in two parts with a 'waist' in the middle that provides the tiny harbour and two anchorages, one on either side. Next strange thing, or so it seemed to me: all of the dwellings are on one half of the island, the other half contains the remains of an old fort and a lighthouse, nothing else.

Our first impression on going ashore was that here was an island that was experiencing a tourist boom. There were cafeterias and restaurants all round the small harbour and the beach. Tourist boats come in from Puerto Santa Pola and Torrevieja: there is only enough space in the harbour for one of the boats at a time so they go in, drop their passengers and then go out and wait on a mooring buoy until it is time to go in and collect them for the homeward journey. We had anchored on the harbour side of the island. Across the way, people were sunbathing on the beach, boats were at anchor enjoying the sunshine... and suffering the swell. From a boating point of view, it wasn't the best day to be on Tabarca.

We wandered into the town. There were buildings being refurbished on all sides. The church had scaffolding round it... but no evidence of people working. There are no cars on the island: little diggers and forklift trucks seemed to be the only motorised vehicles and were being put to good use transporting building materials around. As we passed a door with a large H on the side, signifying Hotel?, it opened. The inside (I couldn't resist a peek) looked sumptuous. If it was, indeed, a hotel, I want to stay there some day. And so to the next surprising thing about Tabarca. In the town, on the whole island, none of the roads are paved, they are all just dirt tracks. There are some signs that that is going to change.

We reached the town square. There was a restaurant, of course. The temptation was too great. The menú del diá was €12: salad, calamares and sardines, paella, dessert and drinks. In we went. Did I say before that I am on a diet? Well, reading the menu, and knowing that I ate it all (no, I skipped desert...), you won't be surprised that I have difficulty losing weight and that when I do it soon finds me again. I could have stopped after the calamares and sardines. I could have... It was so good. And healthy, all those salad vegetables and fish. The paella was good too. Not as good as the one I shared with Gill in Formentera, but passable.

A wander round the rest of the island took us to the sea wall, undergoing necessary repairs. It must have been a massive project when it was first undertaken: could it have been those rescued Genovese mercenaries who were given the task? Round the town, through the dusty streets, finding shade where we could, maybe even regretting, just a little, that we had eaten so much, maybe... And then we crossed the beach and on to the other half of the island, past little coves with rock pools and water splashing the shore, on by way of a little path towards the lighthouse, fenced off, so on round to the old fort. Lots of small flowers in bloom, miniatures of plants that, in a more friendly environment, would be quite large. I did mean to look them up in my book when I got back. Perhaps I did and couldn't find them. I never can.

On our way back to Ganymede I noticed the menús in the various cafeterias that we passed. They were all €12: salad, calamares and sardines, paella, dessert and drinks. Hmmm...

Back on Ganymede, we were soon on our way again, the wind still with us. A couple of hours gentle sail took us to Torrevieja where we dropped anchor inside the harbour and prepared to stay a couple of days.

Puerto de San Juán

25th-26th June

In the morning Tony suggested we move to Calpe, at the other end of the bay, where the apartment blocks are... his reason, there is possibly a rail connection there that will take us to Valencia. I had planned to make that walk, up to the watch tower, but never mind.

Up came the anchor and off we motored. And then the sails came out. There was wind from the north east, blowing us gently down the coast. The sun was shining. It was a glorious day.

As we approached Calpe we got a better look at the apartment blocks. They were densely packed, almost on the seashore it seemed. Amazing. We couldn't imagine who would want to live there. But then, the view out to sea and round the bay, changing with the weather, with the seasons, one would never tire of it. And just because I hate apartment living...

The wind was stronger than we had anticipated, we were enjoying the sail, and the anchorage didn't look good: the wind was in the wrong direction so it didn't offer any shelter. So... we decided to carry on to Benidorm. There wasn't much of an anchorage there, we knew. In fact, it was a case of drop the anchor where convenient off the beach, but we decided to give it a try.

As we sailed peacefully along the coast we saw row upon row of high rise buildings, hugging the shoreline. It was difficult to see through the haze but we thought no, we'll give Benidorm a miss, better to continue while the wind is so perfect. And there was sure to be a rail connection between Alicante and Valencia. We were alone on the sea, or so it seemed, not another boat in sight.

We chose to anchor off the Club Nautica harbour at Puerto de San Juan, a suburb of Alicante. It is another of those anchorages that are snooked in behind a headland. I love them!!! But this one wasn't as 'snooked' as I would have liked. In some ways it felt like a large, open bay. I wasn't impressed. Also, all along the coast, squeezed between sea and hill, were apartment blocks. Huge apartment blocks. This did not look good. Huffily, I went up front to drop the anchor. I wasn't happy.

Almost as soon as Ganymede was shipshape and we were sure the anchor was holding we headed ashore. Fast work for us - it can take us a whole day to do that! As it turned out, in spite of all the buildings, the town was quite green: trees, a park, gardens round most of the apartment blocks. There were several small beaches, all of them popular with locals, there didn't seem to be any tourists around. One thing that seemed to be missing was a town centre, or any signs that might lead us to it. We walked. Eventually we found a Mercadona: one of my favourite supermarkets. But not much else. We stopped for a drink, it was hot work walking along, not always able to find shade. And I was carrying my laptop, hoping for a WiFi café. Drink, Mercadona and then we headed back to Ganymede by a different route... and I soon spotted someone sitting at a café working away on his computer. Ah Ha!
We stopped, I got my laptop out and we had another drink. And an hour soon passed. Definitely time to get back to Ganymede.

In this part of Spain they celebrate the feast of Sant Joán with bonfires on the beach and fireworks. I forgot to mention that they had celebrated in Moraira on Monday night with a bonfire, fireworks and disco. In Puerto de San Juan the kids were celebrating with firecrackers. Every few minutes, it seemed, there was a bang. That night, just as we had got to sleep, there was a big firework display in Alicante. Tony got up to watch. I was too deeply asleep.

Next day was more of the usual routine: ashore early for café con leche and then into town for some shopping. This time we stopped at the Club Nautico bar and discovered... they had WiFi. What a perfect day this was turning out to be. We both caught up on emails, blogs, websites, we Skyped Charlie... and then Tony was able to take the laptops back to Ganymede before we set off into town. This was almost as good as having WiFi on board. AND, after shopping... as usual, some wonderful prawns from Mercadona... lunch at the Club Nautico. What could be better. I was beginning to think I liked Puerto de San Juan.

Did you notice the date at the top of this blog? Today was our second day in Puerto de San Juan: 25th June - the semi-final of the UEFA cup: Spain v Russia. We heard every goal, knew the moment it was all over and Spain had won: the roar, the cheers, and then the fireworks going off all over town. It was stupendous. And later, before I was asleep this time, a huge firework display over Alicante. Spectacular! But was it for Sant Joán or was it for the football?

Puerto de San Juán

Moraira, Spanish Mainland

22nd-24rd June


Our entry point on the Spanish mainland was Moraira, a small coastal town approximately midway between Valencia and Alicante and a distance of 55 nautical miles from Ibiza. While we were in the Aegean such a distance was normal and the average passage, now we think about it a bit more, think we have a hard day in front of us. In other words, we've grown soft.

It was mid-afternoon when we arrived, Sunday, so the anchorage was busy with day boats and we had to look around a bit, find a suitable spot. And then, anchor down, we sat some more, and watched some more, relaxed.

The first thing we noticed was that none of the other boats seemed to have tenders with them. The next thing we noticed was that the beach was completely roped off: small boats were obviously not allowed. Hmmm. There was always the marina, it was just as close as the beach, so we could always get into town. But we didn't venture off the boat immediately... tomorrow is always another day, plenty of time.

As we were coming into the anchorage I noticed in the far distance, at the other end of the bay near Calpe, some strange outlines. They were difficult to make out through the haze of a hot summer afternoon: very strange rock formations? buildings?

Moraira is one of those lovely anchorages that are snooked round the back of a headland. I love them, they provide lots of shelter from most winds. It is surrounded by low hills, hills that now have villas dotted all over them. But there is still a lot of empty space, lots of country walks to be had. There is a walk to an old watch tower and I hoped we would have time to do it. We didn't. Maybe next time.

The 'rock' formations, when we finally got a clear view, were apartment buildings, closely grouped together, all different shapes and sizes but mostly, it seemed, tall and thin.

We stayed two days in Moraira. It is an attractive town, lots of bars and restaurants on the front, of course, and then winding streets and peaceful plazas. We followed signs to the tourist office: caught out again, we had followed the road signs and were led three sides round a large square. But we would never have found it 'by accident' and there were no pedestrian signs. We picked up some maps and some brochures, thought we would visit Teulada, the next town. Of course, we didn't! Next time? I also want to visit Valencia, I would love to see the new building they constructed for the Americas Cup: the one that didn't win the Stirling Prize last year. Not from Moraira!

Leaving Ibiza

22nd and 23rd June

We left early. Tony assured me the wind would be good and we had the sails out almost before we were out of the anchorage. There was not a drop of wind, nothing, the sea was like a sheet of glass. My plan was to sit and catch up with my blogs, as I had done on the passage from Mallorca to Ibiza so I was happy. I got out the computer, got myself settled in the cockpit, opened the computer and... couldn't see a thing. Even at this hour the sun was much too strong. End of plan one.

Slowly, the wind started to blow. Gently at first, then gathering strength; we were soon able to switch off the engine and let the sails take over. It was a fantastic sail, the wind blew all day. Tony decided to get the staysail out. 'Why?', I asked. 'Just to give it an airing.,' he shrugged. So we hauled it out and zoomed along on full possible sail for three for four hours. It gave us, maybe, an extra half knot of speed. It all counts, I suppose. Then Tony unexpectedly suggested we get the staysail in. Uh? 'I suppose,if you want.' Hmmm... the wind was a bit stronger than before. 'I think we'll just reef the genoa.' said Tony. Uh?...'If you insist'. I don't always agree to reefing early but we were enjoying such a peaceful sail, why risk spoiling it by having too much sail up. In fact, we didn't lose speed to begin with as the wind was strengthening all the time but, as always, the wind eventually dropped. We were so close, was it worth pulling the sail out again, we'd be there in next to no time. It was and we did. An hour later we were there, engine on, sails in, anchor ready.

How do we pass the time when we are on passage? Well, for me, I go below decks as little as possible. I get seasick and below deck is often a bad idea. So I sit in the cockpit and I read, I watch the horizon, I daydream, and I doze. That's about it. Occasionally a sail needs changing, occasionally I need to pull a rope... or press the button that works the electric winch. The autopilot is almost always on so there isn't even any need to take the helm. In fine weather I usually manage to go below to prepare food but as soon as there is any sea running Tony has to fend for himself. As for Tony, he potters around, spends time at the chart table, does some computing, generally keeps busy. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to make a really long passage. We have made three and four day passages and I always feel we are just getting into a routine when we arrive at our destination. So I wonder what a longer passage must be like, what it would be like crossing the Atlantic, for example, the wind behind us, those great rollers pushing us along. But it isn't going to happen.

Last day in Ibiza

20th-21st June

Next morning was so quiet. No Alistair. no Gill, and most of all, no Eva. I had decided that we would make it a 'special' day: catch up with internet, go into Ibiza town and finally, dinner out.

Of course, the day started late and it was nearly lunchtime when we got into town. No matter, we combined a sandwich lunch with some wifi and then it was time for a stroll round town. We had wandered around the lower town with Eva, now it was time to hit the steps and head for the cathedral. Again, we were amazed by how attractive Ibiza town is... in fact, the whole island (or what we saw of it) was surprising, well-run, attractive, plenty to do and see. It certainly is a far cry from the reputation of night clubs and rowdy crowds.

We wandered slowly up the hill, winding through narrow streets, looking in shop windows, enjoying an ice-cream. The cathedral and battlements look over the town and the sea, dominating the landscape in much the same way that the cathedral is the first building the seafarer can distinguish as he approaches Palma. We couldn't go in... we keep forgetting siesta time and the cathedral was closed when we got there. However, we were quite content, investigating the battlements, looking out on to the town, to the sea, picking out Cala Talamanca, where Ganymede was at anchor, looking in the other direction towards Formentera. In days gone by it must have been an excellent spot to keep watch for potential invaders. But did it keep them out, I wonder?

That night we dined overlooking the beach. Paella. Tony, having listened to me rave about paella for days, decided that's what he would like. Of course, it needs two people to order so I had to join him. It wasn't as good! But okay... perhaps we will have to become paella connoisseurs?

Next day it was time to move on: a night in Puerto de Roig which Tony wanted to visit, for some reason. So our last night on Ibiza was spent at anchor in an almost deserted bay, tumbledown fishing huts on the shore, houses on top of the cliff, precariously balanced - a recent landfall had brought the edge of the cliff dangerously close, or so it appeared. We suspected some fishermen's huts had been buried in the fall. A steep road led up from the beach to we know not what. It was another of those occasions when we were content to sit in the cockpit and watch.

Early next morning we set sail for the mainland.

Eva takes to the water

19th June

I woke up around 2.30. A swell was rolling into the anchorage causing us to rock from side to side and a more violent rock than usual had caused me to wake up. Then I realised that Gill and Ali weren't back yet... so much for the last ferry. But I supposed they were enjoying themselves and would be back soon. I checked Eva, who was sleeping peacefully. Tony was awake. We dozed fitfully for the rest of the night, the not-so-gentle rocking of the boat keeping us awake but also, always with an ear listening for the sound of an outboard signalling that Ali and Gill were back. As morning approached there were various outboard noises, never theirs.

I am a worrier. Tony will say I thrive on it. By 7.30 I had Ali and Gill dead and buried. By 8.00 I was asking when I could sound the alarm... by 8.30 they were back. They'd had a great time, been side-tracked on their way home by the opportunity to go to Pacha, now they were shattered, sleep was the only thing they could think of.

At 9.30, when I still hadn't heard Eva, I decided I had better go and get her up. She was lying in her top bunk, feet on the ceiling, chatting away to herself.

Breakfast was soon over and we headed ashore, planning coffee and then the play park. I took Eva's swimsuit, just in case, but not mine. Mistake! Big mistake! We were sitting in a café on the beach when several classes of school children arrived, little kids, maybe aged 5-7 year olds for the most part. Eva watched them as they took over the beach, got out their buckets and spades and then abandoned them to play in the sea. Mmmm. She watched. She headed for the sand. 'Come on Nannie.' Soon I was dipping her toes in the water. Then her feet. Then she would stand with me, the waves running over her feet. Eventually she turned into a little water baby, running in and out of the sea, running to me, ankle deep, ready to catch and swing her and send her back for another run. 'Further Nannie, further.' I was wearing crop trousers. Soon I was a lot more than ankle deep... and my trousers were very wet.

So, on her last day, Eva finally made it into the sea... and loved every minute of it.

Alistair and Gill slept, came to the beach, slept again, and then packed. We had a quiet evening, all of us exhausted after the previous night, and then it was time for bed, some sleep before the alarm told us it was two o'clock... time to get up, see them off to the airport, holiday over.

Back to Cala Talamanca

17th - 18th June

There was a good wind in the morning and Alistair wanted to windsurf. He had found somewhere to rent a board, a little way along the bay, we were ready for a change of scene so we upped anchor and motored to a new anchorage. There was 20 knots of wind . As soon as we were safely at anchor Alistair, Gill, Eva and I went ashore while Tony stayed on board, on anchor watch... just in case! It was a wet trip into the beach, waves splashing over us. Fortunately, Eva loved the dinghy, didn't mind the waves.

The moral of the next bit of this story is: never rent a windsurfer from anyone who doesn't seem to care about the strength of the wind, who doesn't make any attempt to discover how proficient you are and who doesn't have a safety dinghy. Also, never go out on a windsurfer when the wind is blowing 20 knots and you do not know how well-maintained the equipment is. Alistair enjoyed his sail for about ten minutes, until something broke... he couldn't fix it and he couldn't get back to shore. He tried valiantly but with the wind and the waves... not good.

At the same time, Eva fell and caught her head on the side of some decking. Immediately a swelling the size of an egg appeared. Eva was howling, inconsolable.

Alistair looked to be getting into real difficulties, getting closer and closer to some rocks. No-one from the windsurfing place seemed to be taking any notice.

Two decisions: Take Eva to a doctor to have her checked and get someone out to bring Ali back ashore. Gill soothed Eva, I ran to the windsurfers' hut. Oh, but I am seriously unfit!!! By the time I got Ali's 'rescue' organised and back to Gill, Eva was calm and the swelling was getting smaller. Probably wouldn't have needed to see the doctor, but better to be safe. The taxi arrived, Alistair got back and off they went to have Eva seen to.

I sat in the café and read my book.

They seemed to be back in no time (Eva was fine) but I had already decided: lunch in the café would be good. Tony was fetched and we enjoyed a long, leisurely lunch. But no paella.

We moved a couple of times during the afternoon, trying to find a spot that was less rolly. The wind had whipped up the sea. In the end, we anchored in a newly designated (at least, it wasn't in our pilot guide!) marine reserve... thought we had avoided the weed but were soon asked, very politely, to move. They didn't have a mooring buoy suitable for us but suggested we could anchor closer in to the beach, which we immediately did.

We were off the island of Espalmador, in a sheltered bay, out of the wind, out of the waves. Joined to Formentera by a short sandbank, Espalmador is virtually uninhabited and is privately owned. There is some conservation work to regenerate the sand dunes and visitors are encouraged not to visit them. The beach is long, sandy and deserted, especially at night when all the tourist boats have gone home.

The next morning was spent on the beach. We had walked along to the nearest point to Formentera and had found a pool left behind by the waves of the previous day. Well, Eva thought it was just wonderful. Round and round she ran, splashing and laughing. This was great fun. But slowly the water was evaporating and finally it was time to go.

Our time in Formentera was over, it was time to sail back to Ibiza. We had decided to go back to Cala Talamanca. The wind was good, Ganymede was well packed and off we went, Alistair at the helm. It was a good sail, Alistair enjoyed himself, tweaking the sails, adjusting our course, so that he got the best possible out of Ganymede. All too soon we were back in Talamanca, dropping the anchor once again.

Alistair and Gill went out for a romantic dinner. 'We won't be late, the last ferry is at 1.00, we don't want to be too tired tomorrow, it's our last day.' Those were their parting words as they left Ganymede.

Exploring

16th June

There were lots of shops in the town that rented bicycles and scooters. Alistair and Gill had decided to rent bicycles and explore a bit of the island. I wanted to do the same. Tony was less keen on the idea... but the island is flat and he agreed, reluctantly, that that was what we would do. I had need of some time ashore, some countryside. First, though, we needed to find a money machine. We were totally out of cash.

We split up: Alistair and Gill to organise their bikes while our first priority had to be to get some cash. Eventually, after asking a few people, we found the only cash machine in town. It was out of order!!! The nearest town was San Francisco Javier, three kms away. Well, there seemed to be plenty of local buses around... but did we have enough cash for the fare?

Walking around I had seen the cutest little car for rent. It looked rather like an old beetle convertible but was smaller, bright yellow in colour... and electric! Well, Tony wasn't too keen on a day spent cycling around... 'shall we see how much that electric car would cost for the day?' I ventured. He needed no second bidding and I was commissioned to go back to the office. €40. That wasn't bad - and there would be no added petrol costs. But the little yellow car wasn't available. It didn't have a full charge, or so they said. They had other vehicles, but not so 'cute'. I went back to Tony, who had been waiting for Alistair and Gill. 'Get one!' he said. Anything to avoid a bike was obviously his main concern. I had to be the driver as he had left his licence on Ganymede.

Okay, so I wouldn't normally pay a bill of €40 with a bank card, but needs must and they didn't seem concerned in the office. Paperwork done, car checked, and it was time to go. Oh dear! I hadn't driven a normal car for so long and here was this thing that had an accelerator and a brake, a toggle switch - up for forwards, down for reverse - and the loudest warning beep when in reverse that you have ever heard. On top of that, it was on the busiest street in the town. That didn't make it Piccadilly Circus but even so... there were cars, and what's more, I didn't know how to get back to where Tony was waiting. Oh, and did I tell you the accelerator pedal was a bit strange... didn't seem to do anything for the first three centimetres or so.

I found Tony, Gill and Eva and Alistair eventually arrived with his bike. Gill, putting off the evil moment, eventually managed to persuade him to go back for hers. Like me with my little buggy, Gill was not exactly confident about a day's cycling. For me... a café con leche -Alistair and Gill still had some cash.

Eventually we were all organised with our various modes of transport. Tony was overjoyed at not having to spend the day on the saddle. Gill was having misgivings about the bike. I was not over-confident about driving this car all day. We arranged to meet for lunch and off we went. Tony and I didn't make it to the end of the first road before, 'would you like me to drive?'. Now, I didn't know if it was because he couldn't stand my driving... he usually can't... or because he desperately wanted to drive the car himself. Whatever, he took over the driving.

Our first stop had to be Sant Francisco Javier. This part of the island is mostly flat, with a couple of lagoons and salt pans, but Sant Francisco is built on one of the few hills so it was a long, slow, gentle climb. Tony has reached what I call the 'grumpy old man' stage, and this particularly applies to driving. Gone are the days of speeding down motorways... now it is a case of, 'I have every right to the road and if I want to drive slowly I'll do so!'. This little electric car was perfect for him. Along we tottered, and no-one got impatient, well, not very, because they didn't expect that such a vehicle could go any faster. We finally reached to San Francisco, got some cash and wandered around.

The town was pretty. Although obviously it depends on tourism to a great extent, it was also a 'real' town, with 'real' shops as well as the usual tourist shops. There was a lovely town square with the town hall on one side and the old fortified church of Sant Javier opposite. The church was very unusual in style, square flat roofed and, it seemed, with no windows. it certainly looked more like a fort than anything else. (Later I will try make a photo blog of Alistair and Gill's visit, including photos of our visit to Formentera.) A drink, a bit more of a wander and it was time to go, time to head for our rendezvous.

We were heading for Punta del Pujols: the road was easy, downhill until we reached sea level and then on, not a hill for ever, it seemed. We made good progress, I don't think any cyclists overtook us. The road took us through a couple of towns, busy with tourists, and then we doubled back to find the road to the beach where we would find the others. Gill wasn't sure she had enjoyed her bike ride...' why do the seats have to be so uncomfortable?', she asked. Eva was happy. She had sat behind her daddy, watching the world go by and then... another play in the sand. And still not even a toe in the sea.

It was time for lunch. The little restaurant we chose didn't look much and we weren't hopeful for anything but the most basic lunch. Gill thought she would like paella, after all, this is Spain, but a minimum of two people have to order it so I agreed to join her. I am usually disappointed when I order paella. This one was delicious. In fact, I would go so far as to say it was the most delicious paella I have ever eaten. It was freshly cooked, so a bit of a wait, but well worth it. The aroma as it was brought to the table... and everything tasted so fresh and clean, the fish, the chicken and the rice was perfectly cooked. I thought about that paella for days afterwards. (Tony says I am still talking about it!)

Tony and I continued on our journey. As we drove along I noticed some fig trees. They seemed to be grouped in a strange way, with a large, low tree in the centre and then a ring of smaller trees around it. A closer look showed us that the 'trees' around the edge were, in fact, branches that were being propped up by poles. Other than that, there wasn't much sign of agriculture: occasionally some goats, occasionally a small market garden, but mostly fallow fields divided by dry stone walls. And trees. Very peaceful and relaxing.

We made our way to the sea. Along narrow lanes with first woods and then scattered houses and then the usual hotel and holiday villas that lead to a beach. Time for an ice-cream.

Back on the road again, we continued along a narrow isthmus heading towards the south east corner of the island. Except in the heat of high summer, this would be an excellent holiday destination for anyone who likes cycling or walking but nothing too strenuous. And, of course, there are the beaches. There are two 'high' parts of the island: La mola at 192m and Cabo Berberiá at 107m and here the coast features rocky cliffs but otherwise, the coast is low-lying and sandy.

We made another stop in Sant Francisco on our way home: the supermarket. I told you Sant Francisco had real shops! Then I took the car back... and the girl in the office asked me to park it. Park it? The space was only just big enough: a car on one side, a long row of scooters on the other!!! I was afraid that if I hit one of the scooters I would create a domino effect and all of them would slowly fall to the ground. I shuffled and shuffled, shuffled some more, all the while the warning reverse beep alerting the whole world to my antics, and eventually decided I had done my bit, abandoned the car and took the keys back.

Back once again on Ganymede, we drank sun-downers as the sun slowly sank below the horizon.

Formentera

14th-15th June

From Cala Talamanca we sailed to the island of Formentera, a passage of just over an hour. Formentera is a very popular spot in summer with boats at anchor all over the bay but the season is still early and although there were boats anchored in the far corners of the bay. In front of the town, by the entrance to the lagoon, there were only a few so it was easy to find a spot, drop the anchor and there we were. Until morning that is, when we were very politely told that we were in a 'no anchoring' area... so that's why there were so few boats!!! We were advised that we could anchor anywhere where the bottom was sandy. For environmental reasons there is a restriction on anchoring where there is weed growing... there is a particular type of weed that is making a comeback in the area after nearly dying out. It is good for the fish and also for the sea, helping to keep it clean. On Mallorca and Ibiza there are well documented 'no anchoring' areas and marine reserves where mooring buoys have been put down but we hadn't caught up with the new regulations here. Perhaps it would be better simply not to anchor where there is weed growing. That could be difficult.

We moved to another part of the bay and anchored in front of a long, sandy beach where the water was crystal clear and a gorgeous turquoise, it looked so inviting. Alistair and Gill couldn't resist and they were soon swimming around. It was a day for the beach: a boat doesn't give a two year old the same amount of freedom of movement. Eva spent the day playing in the sand... but still there was no way she was even going to put a toe in the water.

In the evening we went ashore by dinghy. This time we encountered a small problem: it is not easy to park a dinghy in the port area. In fact, the marina part has signs up everywhere, 'No dinghies'. Hmmmph! Tony is inclined to ignore such signs, I am more nervous. Eventually we found a place in the far corner of the port, in the section for local fishing boats. Well, we needed a walk. (Parking the dinghy had been easier the night before when we were on the other side of the port and could go into the lagoon.)

A play park, a restaurant nearby and a successful evening was assured. All we needed was to find an ATM the next day.

To Cala Talamanca

12th-14th June

Alistair and Gill wanted to go to Ibiza town. They had bought tickets for the opening night of one of the clubs and it would be easier to get to it if we were in Ibiza. It was time to go to sea once more.

We anchored for lunch in Cala Llonga and spent the afternoon on the beach. Summer had arrived, yet again. The beach at Cala Llonga is an excellent place for a little girl to spend the afternoon. Sand, gentle waves rippling the shore, and even a play park. What more could anyone want? Ice cream!

It hadn't been possible to find a marina berth in Ibiza so our plan was to anchor in the bay just outside the port. Once again, when we got there, it wasn't like the book! A new sea wall has been built since our last visit and it is no longer possible to anchor in the bay. Instead we motored back to Talamanca: an open bay with a long beach, hotels and restaurants at its head, On one side the headland and sea wall that separates Talamanca from the bay of Ibiza town, on the other side, rock and pine-clad hill with scattered dwellings. It looked like a good place for a morning walk. I never did get round to it.

It wasn't quite so easy to get Eva to bed that night but eventually she succumbed to sleep. We had dinner and then Alistair and Gill went out to play. Tony took them ashore in the dinghy: the arrangement was that they would phone us when they got back and Tony would then collect them. The phone call came at 7.30 the following morning. Needless to say, all they wanted to do then was sleep.

We took Eva into town. From the Bay of Talamanca it is only a short walk over the hill and down to Marina Botafoch from where it was easy to find a taxi into town.

What a surprise we had when we arrived. Ibiza town is so pretty, like an old fishing village, the houses are mainly painted white, the streets are narrow, the shops interesting. And what's more, there were plenty of bars and restaurants to tempt us. A perfect Mediterranean location. Eva was having a wonderful time: she obviously enjoys shopping and led us into one shop after another. We, doting grandparents, thought she was wonderful. We stayed in the lower part of town, wandering aimlessly, resting when necessary. We hadn't brought the pushchair and little girls get tired.

Did we choose wisely for lunch? Well, the food was... okay... not good enough to make a return visit but okay. It was the wait: they weren't serving lunch for another fifteen minutes when we got there but Nonno Tony had had enough walking around so we settled for a drink and a short wait... that eventually turned into a long wait. You know how it is, by the time you decide that you have waited much longer than expected, you think, well, it must be soon now... and wait a bit longer... and a bit longer... until in the end the wait is over an hour. I know, we should have moved on. And by now Eva was tired and crotchety and beyond eating.

An ice cream and then the trip back to Ganymede soon put her right. Instead of taking a taxi back - she didn't want to go in the car again - we found the ferry that goes between Ibiza town and Botafoch Marina. What could be nicer. A short trip across the harbour, looking at the sea and the boats.

We spent two days at anchor in Talamanca Bay. More visits to Ibiza, time on the beach, at the play park and taking advantage of the cafés and restaurants, especially those that offered a WiFi service. It seemed like the best of all worlds with the family atmosphere of the beach on the Talamanca side, the hustle and bustle of Botafoch Marina and the town of Ibiza just a short ferry ride away.

11th June

Eva slept late the next morning so everyone else did too. It had rained in the night and the morning was grey and cloudy. It didn't matter too much; it wouldn't last, the sun would soon be shining again.

Around lunchtime the weather started to look brighter and we headed into town. Gill was wearing her tourist gear... shorts and a strappy teeshirt. This is Ibiza after all, and it is summer, even if the weather is not so certain and there are still clouds hovering in the sky.

Our marina berth was as far from the town as it is possible to be so we had a long walk to get anywhere. But it was pleasant and Eva enjoyed the puddles. We walked past the marina shops and restaurants and then along the sea front. Clouds were beginning to gather again and by the time we had stopped for a drink and some playtime for Eva, it was starting to rain again and looked like settling in. Gill was getting seriously wet. There were a lot of people wearing flimsy plastic coats and eventually Gill also bought one... it cost all of 95 euro cents!

We arrived back on Ganymede just in time. The heavens opened and the rain poured down. Soon the pitter patter on the roof was sounding more like a rapid thud, thud, thud. Huge hailstones, about the size of Maltesers, were falling. Amazing. I'm sure I've said it before but I think in these last weeks we have had more rain and stormy weather than we did all winter. But that is no consolation for Alistair and Gill.

But the rain stopped and the sun came out again. Alistair and Gill took Eva to the beach, where they enjoyed their first swim and Eva enjoyed playing in the sand and in the little play park. There was no way she was going near the water!

At various intervals throughout the day we had shown Eva 'her' bed. She was having none of it. We told her it was Uncle Charlie's bed. We told her she could have his special quilt... look, it has boats on... we suggested that dolly would like to try it out and so dolly spent most of the day in bed. Slowly, Eva came round to the idea that she, too, would sleep in Uncle Charlie's special bed and when bedtime came she climbed in, snuggled up and fell asleep.

After dinner Alistair and Gill went out to try the nightlife.

We caught up on some much needed sleep.

Family

11th June

Two o'clock. The alarm was making a horrible noise.

'Come on, wake up, they'll be here soon!' Tony was obviously wide awake.

I so did not want to wake up. 'No, it's only two o'clock. They'll be ages yet' I groaned. It had been so nice being asleep with no rocking and rolling, no wind, no bangs. I managed another ten minutes before I finally dragged myself out of bed, threw on some clothes. It was much too soon, I knew it was. I sat there in the saloon, resisting waking up.

Tony wanted to walk to the gate. There was a likelihood that the gate would be closed and locked. Finally, around half past two, I agreed that we could go to the gate. But it was too soon, I knew it was.

I was just stepping onto the passerelle, following Tony ashore, when he said, 'There's a taxi coming.' and they were here, getting out of the taxi, coming on board. What joy! I was awake now, the waiting was over.

Eva was wide awake too. I had expected her to be asleep, or at least sleepy. She was soon investigating everything, practising going up and down the steps, rejecting her sleeping arrangements. But eventually we had caught up on all our news, sleep was taking over once again and Eva eventually found bliss... sleeping with mummy and daddy in their bed.

Storm

9th-10th June

I woke up in the wee small hours. The wind was howling all around us but that wasn't what woke me up. We were tossing around, up and down... BANG... up and DOWN... bang... up and BANG BANG BANG... down. The bad weather that had started to move in the previous afternoon had hit us with a vengeance. The wind was blowing right into the cala bringing with it very heavy seas. We could almost feel the anchor, holding us against the wind and waves, the chain stretching, keeping us off the shore. It felt strong, stronger than the wind. But there was nothing to protect us from the battering the waves were giving us. Up and down went Ganymede and each time she hit the water... BANG. Tony was awake, listening, ready to jump at a moment's warning. He got up several times in the night, to check, to look around. That anchor was holding fast. Oh, how we love our anchor! All night long it continued. Oh, I really don't like this.

Morning was no better. Little peaks out the window showed waves pounding in towards the shore. And up and down went Ganymede, up... and DOWN... up and DOWN . There was one other boat in the cala, further in than us and it was faring no better, tossing around, up and down, swerving this way then that. Oh, this was not a day to be out on the sea! There was no ferry service that day and very little activity on the beach - a few brave souls were wandering around, in the bars and restaurants all the doors and windows were closed.

All day long the wind howled at us, the waves pounded us. I broke some rules: I tried to read a glossy magazine. Not a good idea. I soon had a headache, soon had that familiar sick feeling. I tried sitting in the cockpit, sitting in the saloon, going to bed. Bed is definitely the best place in these conditions. All day long I moved, cockpit, saloon, bed, fitful sleep trying to shut out what was going on out there in the real world. Tony found himself some lunch. There was no way I could eat.

Evening came and still the wind was blowing straight up the cala and the sea was, if anything, even angrier than before. We could perhaps have got ashore in the dinghy but getting back to Ganymede would have been a very wet, slow experience, the wind and the waves conspiring to push us back in to shore, the waves washing over us, soaking us. And as for getting out of the dinghy and on to Ganymede, that would have been well nigh impossible. No, I was not doing that. I decided to be brave and started to prepare some dinner but no sooner started than I knew there was no way I could eat it. I got it almost done, admitted defeat, handed over to Tony and went back to bed. Oh, where is the romance in this kind of experience? Why am I subjecting myself to this?

At the same time, we had the worry of Alistair, Gill and Eva arriving next day. In fact, it wasn't next day... it was 2.00am the day after that. Even worse. We couldn't have them arrive at that time and not be in a marina. We certainly couldn't have them arrive with us stuck in this cala with no way to get ashore... or them to us. We made a plan... if we couldn't get into Santa Eulalia we would book a hotel room for them. Only problem... we couldn't get ashore and didn't know the names of any hotels. Well, I am sure we could have solved the problem, had it become necessary.

Slowly, oh so slowly, the wind died down. Not a lot and the waves continued to pound us, but there was hope that this would be over soon. That night was slightly better, the bangs less hard, less loud. I think we got some sleep. Anyway, next morning seemed calmer although there was still no possibility of getting ashore. Nine o'clock came and I phoned the marina... they had a place for us. Oh, life was good again. We couldn't get into the marina before four o'clock so we sat in the bay, watching the weather. I still didn't feel wonderful, still couldn't eat. But conditions were improving, there were people on the beach again.

Just before we left to go round to the marina another boat came into the cala. Soon, there were people diving into the sea... we noticed the sun was shining. WoW, when did that happen?

We headed round to the marina. I could tell you about the berth we were given. A berth that was 50 cms too narrow for Ganymede to get into comfortably. Enough to say that there was a major disagreement about even trying to get in and that fenders on Ganymede and the boats either side were all pressed flat. I was NOT happy. Again.

A glass of wine, an wifi access onboard and an excellent dinner - Dutch/Indonesian influence this time. Okay, I was happy again.

We went to bed with the alarm set for 2.00 am.

Santa Eulalia

6th-7th June

From Cala San Vicente we motored along the coast to Santa Eulalia where we anchored in the bay for the night. The anchorage is a little difficult. We chose the wrong part of the bay and ended up in an area of sand and rocks. Sand is usually good for anchoring. However, the rocks made the bottom very uneven and we could go from 5 metres to 3 metres and back to 5 metres in the blink of an eye. Not so good! At one point, just as I was getting ready to drop the anchor (in 5 metres), Tony read 2.8 metres on the depth gauge - we draw 2.7. He moved into deeper water before giving me the go ahead. We were anchored, she was holding, but we weren't entirely happy... not with these big lumps of rock all around us.

One of the reasons for going to Santa Eulalia was to try, once again, to book into the marina for three nights from the 10th. We were finding this difficult, not because there was no space but because it seems that visiting boats cannot book in advance but have to take their luck on the day. If there is a space, good and well, if not, too bad. Hmmm. We hoped that turning up in person might help - we had already tried email and telephone - but it didn't.

Santa Eulalia is another of these towns that isn't quite what we remember... more apartment blocks, more touristy. I really must look at our 'first time round' photos. (They are on Tony's computer.) I still liked it. The tourist season is not yet in full swing but there were plenty of people around. The shops... well, if I weighed a fraction of what I weigh now, I could spend a fortune. But there are too many extra kilos. And then there are lots of restaurants, making it even more difficult for me to lose those unwanted kilos. We ate at 'Djangos', a pretty little restaurant/tapas bar just outside the marina, in one of the few older buildings left in that area. The food had a Californian-Mexican flavour. Excellent. There was also a wifi connection, what more could we want.

Back on board Ganymede, we watched some youngsters play around on their boats: there were two windsurfers, three Optimist dinghies and a safety dinghy and they were having such a good time, just messing around, enjoying their boats, being on the water. When it came time for them to go back into the marina the boy in the safety dinghy placed himself in the middle of the entrance thus ensuring the little kids (the children in the optimists looked to be no more than five or six years old) had a tranquil passage... and the huge motor boat that was thundering towards them had to slow down before he reached the children, something he obviously hadn't intended to do.

The night was peaceful and next day, after yet another trip ashore, yet another visit to a supermarket, yet another visit to an ATM, we left to anchor in Cala Llonga, just around the corner.

Oh, I forgot: I also found a book of hikes.