Leaving Almerimar

15th-19th August

We had thoroughly enjoyed our walk round the gardens of the Alhambra. Possibly we had chosen the best time of year: trees and flowers were in full bloom and the water gardens provided a sense of coolness: shaded by the trees, they offered a respite from the blaze of the sun, the sound of running water soothing the senses and reducing the effect of the heat. Certainly, there were lots of people around but never so many that they detracted from the sense of peace that the gardens created.

But we couldn't wait around until seven o'clock, our designated time for the palaces, so finally we agreed, it was time to go. Of course, by then it was too late to go back into the city, to take the opportunity to visit the Arab Quarter, or maybe the Jewish Quarter. It was time to head back to Almerimar. Our main objective in visiting Granada had been the Alhambra and the gardens especially. We had done that. We should have allowed more time... or bought tickets in advance, which we could easily have done had we only known the difficulty of buying them on the day. Maybe we will go back one day...

The drive back took us along the Malaga motorway as far as Motril where we made a left turn and headed back to Almerimar. A new motorway is under construction around the mountains and along the coast. We had thoroughly enjoyed the motorway from Almería to Granada. This new motorway, when it is eventually completed, is going to be spectacular. High viaducts that span deep valleys, mountain stretches that sit on the very edge of the land making one giddy just looking out of the car window to the sea far below. It is breathtaking.

Back in Almerimar, the new alternator had arrived. With luck, we could leave tomorrow. I am always optimistic. It was good to be back, good to get back to Ganymede, good to be 'home'. I planned the shopping, what Tony might like to eat when I couldn't even think of cooking: easy food, convenience food.

Nothing ever goes to plan! Next morning Tony started work on the alternator while I made a couple of trips to Mercadona... after coffee and tostadas, of course. I was unpacking some shopping when Tony broke the news: the drive belts he had, that he thought were the correct size, weren't... so off he went to the chandlery while I made another trip to Mercadona. I was still optimistic: we would leave either today or tomorrow morning. Wrong again! The chandlery didn't stock the belts we needed, it was a holiday weekend, Monday or Tuesday was the earliest we could expect to get them. Hmmm! I so wanted to leave, so wanted to be on our way to the next destination.

At the same time... I was beginning to like Almerimar, beginning to think that maybe I would like to spend the winter here... those mountains really are special, we liked the people we had met and it seemed like a good place to have any necessary work done on Ganymede. I had started with expectations of Almerimar that were wrong, that weren't what Almerimar is about... now I had put down some shallow roots. They were easy to pull up but they could just as easily have taken hold, have provided a pleasant base. Split personality, that's what I have!

We finally left late Tuesday afternoon. It was a close thing: the new belts were a very tight fit and right up until the last minute I thought we wouldn't be leaving, we would have to wait for another set of fan belts but suddenly they were on, the alternator was working as it should, we could go...

Granada

13th-14th August

We left around nine o'clock and drove out of Almerimar to El Ejido and on to the motorway. The usual poly-tunnels and bleak countryside until we got to Almería, round the town and then a left turn onto the motorway that leads to Granada. Up through the mountains we went.

Tony and I enjoy long drives and long drives through mountains are the best. The scenery... I was reminded of spaghetti westerns. Weren't a lot of them shot here? There was always something new to look at: rocks tortured into the most unimaginable shapes, barren slopes and valleys with only an occasional tree or cactus to break the emptiness and very occasionally, a lone house. Yes, I could definitely imagine a lonely cowboy making his way slowly along these canyons, winding up the hills.

Later, I was reminded of our visit to Matmata in Tunisia, to the troglodyte houses, the Star Wars bar, because here the landscape was equally out of this world and here, also, were troglodyte houses. We had seen troglodyte houses in this part of Spain before, when we were driving to Seville. Those first houses had been very lavish with extensive facades to them, all white pillars and arches, the gardens green and verdant, some even with swimming pools. But here the house fronts blended perfectly with the background so that it was easy to miss them. There were no well-watered lawns and as for swimming pools, not a chance!

And then we were back into lonely mountains, now climbing higher and higher, the last stretch of the drive. Here the mountainsides were lush, covered in trees. But we had a problem. The road was steep, the climb long, and our rental car was having serious difficulties making it to the top. Tony was down to second gear and it was a struggle. It was only a two lane road and we were seriously holding up the traffic. Huge lorries, cars pulling caravans, we were being overtaken at every opportunity. This was definitely not a highlight of the drive. We held our breaths, crossed our fingers... and we were had arrived, slowly descending to Granada (although still high in the mountains - Granada is built on a huge plateau high up in the Sierra Nevada.

I had spent hours the previous evening checking hotel reservation sites, looking for the best bargain, the most suitable hotel. In the end I decided it would be better to be out of town and take a bus into the centre. Reading the 'visitor reports' it seemed that the roads in the old town of Granada were as tortuous as some of the rocks we had passed. So I finally decided on a modern hotel with WiFi access 'in every part of the hotel'. It turned out to be an okay hotel, slightly reminiscent of the pictures on the web, and in a residential part of town. But our room had no WiFi available... The staff obviously thought we were crazy (or difficult customers!) but agreed to move us to a room that did have WiFi. Then we discovered that the hotel had no tourist information leaflets... can you imagine, a hotel in a town like Granada that probably survives on tourism... and no brochures! We even had to ask for a town map, they were hidden away at the reception desk. And when we asked about the Alhambra, well, you would have thought we were asking about a visit to the moon. However, we were given excellent information about where to catch a bus into town. It wasn't the best part of town to visit, but it was 'town'.

It was pretty much like any other large Spanish town: a wide boulevard lined by large buildings and a variety of shop windows to look into. We were hungry, it was already two o'clock and we chose the first likely-looking eatery we came to. The food was acceptable, nothing more, but at least the interior was cool. August isn't the best month for sightseeing, especially if, like me, you don't function well when the temperature soars.

We continued on our way, branching off down narrow alleys, all the shops closed now, siesta time was well underway. By chance we came upon the cathedral. It was closed, of course, every door shut, but we walked round it. It was HUGE. An enormous stone edifice, I don't think I have seen a bigger cathedral. Perhaps its size was enhanced by the other buildings, this part of town having seemingly grown around it. Of course, we found a square with restaurants and bars and of course we sat down to enjoy a glass of wine (perhaps not the best choice considering the temperature) and to take time to study the map and decide what we should try to see while we were here. We thought the old Arab Quarter would be the most interesting and so set off in that direction. As we passed the cathedral we noticed that it was now open so in we went. It was strange, considering the external size, this interior, although significant, was much too small... and then the penny dropped. We weren't in the cathedral, we were in a private chapel off the cathedral. So once outside we found the 'real' cathedral, paid the entrance fee (no queues here) and in we went. Apparently the design of the cathedral was based on St Peter's in Rome. It was large, it was cool and it was peaceful. We sat and absorbed the quiet atmosphere.

After the cathedral we didn't do much. It was hot, we abandoned the uphill walk to the Arab Quarter long and in the end we saw a bus stop... and stopped... and waited... and waited... and eventually a bus came along and in no time we were back in the hotel, back in the cool of the air-conditioned room. I looked up details of the Alhambra on the internet and was dismayed to discover that even if we bought tickets online we could expect long queues to get in. So, being me, I decided to put off making a decision, if we had to queue anyway then we may as well buy the tickets when we got there. Bad decision!

Next morning we had booked out of the hotel and were at the Alhambra shortly after ten. It was hot. There were queues, it seemed, a mile long. But there were no notices, nothing to tell you where to go, which queue to get into. We wandered around, looking at the queues, thinking, 'this is madness'. wondering how to get in to the public bit, the bit where you didn't need a ticket. We made no progress and I think, now, that there was a kiosk where you could get a ticket for the gardens only... but you had to join the general queue to get to it. Hmmm. Oh well, we were here, this is what we had come to Granada to see, so we joined a queue that was for the automatic ticket machines, the same ticket machines that was for the use of those people who had bought online, but they had priority. Does this make sense?

We had been standing in the queue, in full sun, for about ten minutes when there was an announcement. Tickets for the morning visit were sold out and there were only 650 tickets left for the afternoon session. We looked at the queues. Well, there didn't seem to be 650 people waiting, maybe 250, maybe less, so we stayed. The queue didn't move particularly fast. In fact, it didn't seem to move at all. After about half an hour there was another announcement.550 tickets left... then 500 tickets... 400 tickets... The queue just didn't seem to be moving enough for that many tickets to have been sold. I was getting a bit irate and assumed that while we were standing there, in the blazing sun, ticket were still being sold on the internet. Certainly, there were a lot of people going to the front of the queue to collect their pre-ordered tickets.

We were finally out of the sun but now there were only 250 tickets left for that afternoon. Obviously there were a lot of people in the queue who would not be getting tickets that day but no effort was being made by the staff to suggest where the end of the successful queue would be. We now realised that we would be borderline and wondered if it was worth waiting. By now I was furious. How dare these people treat visitors like this. If they didn't want to sell tickets on site then surely they should simply stop doing so, not hedge there bets and let people come just in case they had a slow day... Now there were 100 tickets left. It was definitely going to be a close thing but we decided to wait... after all, we had already queued for well over two hours. 50 tickets to go... I made another head count... 25 people ahead of us. But how many in the other queue? And would it move faster than ours? 4 people ahead of us... 2 people... now we were through but there wasn't a machine available... now at a machine, Visa card in... and then nothing. It spit the card out. Tony tried again. Same thing, back comes the card. I saw an attendant, the only one there. Grabbed her... we want a ticket, how does it work. Well, it seems that before you put your card in you have to touch the screen... it was a race to the end... she did it all for us... and we got the last two tickets! Phew... but such a disappointment for the Italian couple who were behind us in the queue... they got to a machine but like us couldn't make it work, not knowing the magic of touch. Others, more knowledgeable, got their tickets.

The next thing we discovered was that your ticket gives you a time when it is possible to visit the most important palaces, there is no choice. Our time slot was at seven o'clock... we would be on our way home by then! Well, it was the gardens I most wanted to see so I could live with that. But nevertheless, it seemed just another indication of the attitude of the management there...'We are one of the most famous, most visited sites in Spain. If you want to visit you will stick by our rules and we really don't care for your comfort.' I was going to write and complain. I was going to write to UNESCO and complain - this is no way to treat people and I felt strongly that UNESCO should re-consider their protection of the site - but of course I did nothing, except let you all know in this blog. And the solution was so simple: to man all available kiosks during the busiest periods (they had two open) and to install a host of automatic machines to add to the six that were already there, for which there was more than ample space.

The gardens are STUNNING. I am not a lover of Islamic or Italian style formal gardens, preferring a riot of colour to the elegance of greenery and manicured beds. Here there was such an intermingling of both it was a joy to experience. Elegant avenues of trees, olive trees, oleander in full bloom, the brilliant, deep cerise of bougainvillaea, water gardens, rose gardens, and everywhere, summer annuals, all in flower. The shade from the trees and the coolness of the water diminished the effect of the hot summer sun. In places an avenue or flight of steps would be edged by a small canal of running, cold water, perfect to trail a hand in, enjoy a moment's freshness. Drinking water fountains were everywhere and most people took advantage of them, filling water bottles for later use. From some of the walkways there were views over the gardens to the palaces of the Alhambra and then in the distance, the Arab Quarter of the city. On the other side the view was of the Sierra Nevada. Magnificent.

Yes, okay, I admit it, it was worth the wait.

Almerimar: Part 2

4th-13th August

We were on our own again, Charlie and Hannah had gone. Time to turn Ganymede into a two-person boat again, get the laundry done, put away the extra sheets and towels. My washing machine is generally very good but there is a problem with the drum which needs balancing. The machine fits so snugly into its designated spot that we are not sure if we can get it out. Obviously we can... but not without a very great deal of effort. As a result I organise laundry loads carefully, never more than one bath towel at a time and always with a full load so getting all those large towels washed took a while.

Ron and Sheenagh were back and we enjoyed several meals together. Ron's work plans had changed and he wouldn't be able to oversee the loading of their yacht onto a cargo boat in southern Italy, at the top of th Messina Straits. (They are moving back to Singapore, shipping the boat there.) Would Tony supervise for him? We weren't planning to head that way although Tony's preferred winter home would be Corfu or Lefkas in the Ionian...

... and I didn't think I wanted to spend the winter in Almerimar. I still thought that Morocco and then Gran Canaria would be a good solution but Tony wasn't keen. Hmmm...

... we like Sicily a lot, it's one of our favourite places...

Okay, we would do it! So Corfu for the winter it is.

Over the next couple of weeks we settled into Almerimar, settled into the routine, found our favourite bars... and yes, the English bar we visited on the first day was one of them. There was another, just a bit further along the street, that made the best coffee and tostadas. I am afraid I got into the tostada for breakfast habit, never missed a day! Tony helped Ron on his boat... probably passed a few spanners... and Sheenagh and I caught up with lots of chatting. No longer did I look out and see a mass of polythene. Now I saw the mountains. Beautiful mountains, majestic, spectacular. I was beginning to like Almerimar. Now that we weren't staying!!!

The alternator was proving problematic. First they had to order spare parts, then they couldn't get them, it being August. Time was moving on. Finally, we decided to get a new one. Ouch!!! We just happened to have one of the most expensive brands of alternator you can buy and Tony didn't want to replace it with a different, cheaper make. Ron and Sheenagh were almost ready to leave. The new alternator wouldn't arrive for several days... we decided to make a trip to Granada.

So that's what we did. We could have taken a coach trip from Almerimar but we decided to rent a car, stay overnight, and also visit Corboda if time permitted.

Almerimar: First Impressions

Part 1: 29th July - 3rd August

I was so looking forward to Almerimar, sure we would like it, sure that this would become our home for the winter.

First we had to tie up on the waiting quay, go to the office and make all the necessary paperwork before moving once again to our assigned berth. Bit of a nuisance that, twice the work. Usually we go straight to the assigned berth and then to the office for the paperwork.

Charlie decided to take Ganymede into the berth. I held my breath. I bit my tongue. I was very, very nervous. And surprised. He had never offered before. All was going well, turning and straightening up before reversing into the space was a bit tight but he got there. And then lost it slightly and was heading right on to the mooring line of the next boat. Panic on my part, of course!, but Charlie kept his cool, got it right and then reversed perfectly into the slot. We were there. We weren't moving for at least a week.

It was time for coffee. It had been a long night.

Almerimar is an artificial town, built around a marina and solely for the tourist industry. There are many like it, some work well, others don't. The buildings are the standard 'Spanish-style' low apartment blocks, most of those on the front having shop or restaurant units on the ground floor. Yachts are tied up to the quays, all very pretty. Our berth wasn't on one of the town quays. Instead, we had a less public, quieter berth on a more secure pontoon. Well, it had a gate and we had a key... but the gate was never locked so I'm not sure about the security.

So, coffee. We stopped at the first bar and ordered. Did we want small cups or mugs? Uhhh? Well, mugs... (café con leche? mugs?). The coffee was good, we slowly unwound and then we realised: this was an English bar, the owners were English, the customers were English. We continued on our way, past a Tabac, more bars and restaurants, a large square with... bars and restaurants. But it was all very quiet, there were very few people around, and this was the main tourist season. We stopped for a tapas lunch, walked around some more and then headed back to Ganymede.

We went to the beach later, retracing our steps of the morning and then continuing along, past more restaurants, some chandleries, closed shops, empty units, on through a small park... and there were all the people: on the beach, sunning themselves, in the sea, cooling down. Rather incongruously, there was a large group of Spanish women, playing Bingo!

In the evening, when it was cooler, we searched out the supermarket, Mercadona, my favourite. On the way there we passed a large apartment block, quite attractive, but totally empty. Perhaps it had just been completed? Anyway, Mercadona was close, that was good.

And so our days passed in getting to know our way around, enjoying being in marina-mode, and getting things fixed. Charlie and Hannah managed daily trips to the beach, we tended not to bother. One major problem was that we had an alternator that needed to be either fixed or replaced. We easily found an English shop where we could get that done. The alternator was delivered to them, they took it to Almería, and we waited. We also found a workshop specialising in stainless steel work. I had bent a rail way back in May so we decided to take the opportunity of getting it fixed. The man in the workshop was English, of course. Well, in fact, not English, listening to the man's accent. South African? And then, 'I'm Zimbabwean' he suddenly volunteered. I knew I recognised that accent! 'We have a friend with a boat here who is from Zimbabwe' I said, maybe you know her... Sheenagh. Of course, he knew Sheenagh. (I reckon all expatriate Zimbabweans know each other!) In fact, he told us, Ron, her husband was here in Almerimar at the moment, getting the boat ready to leave. I thought we'd missed them! We had planned to meet but then they arrived early and we dallied, waiting for Charlie.

We immediately went round to their berth... at the far side of the marina, near the office... I called, 'Ron, Ron' and out came... Sheenagh. What a lovely surprise. She was there with the boys, getting ready to leave that very day. But there is always time for a coffee and a catch-up chat. And Sheenagh would be back with Ron in a few days time. Fantastic!

Charlie and Hannah had only a few days left. I was feeling depressed, not just because they were going but because... I really did not like Almerimar. It seemed so sad. Here we were in the middle of the tourist season and it was empty. A very few bars seemed to be doing well but Mercadona was always busy, especially the fish counter, a Mercadona speciality I reckon.

Anyway, we had to rent a car for the trip to the airport so we collected it the evening before and took the opportunity to have a drive around, see something of the surrounding countryside. Did I say I was a bit depressed? This was dreadful. Bleak. Acre after acre of poly-tunnels. A sea of plastic. And this, apparently, is where most of the vegetables for the EU are grown, especially the salads. It was like a wilderness. Where there was no plastic there seemed to be only dry soil and a few sad-looking weeds. We drove through the nearest town. Well, I have to admit that when it comes to town planning Spain doesn't really seem to have got it together. The town seemed to be houses and apartment blocks... and cars. There was occasionally a child on a bike, some people on the street, but no town square, no bars, no shops... we obviously managed to miss everything on our drive around.

We headed out to the country, into the heart of poly-tunnel land. I couldn't spend the winter here, I just couldn't. Eventually we found another town that seemed to be more alive, have more going for it but again we couldn't find a bar where we would like to sit and have a drink. It didn't help, of course, that by now it was quite late and all the shops we found were closed. Back in the car, we decided to go to Almería so back into the plastic and then to the motorway from where it was a short drive to Almería. This was better. Almería has oviously been there for a very long time. It has a lovely town centre with streets that wind there way hither and thither but by now it was getting late and we only had time for a short walk, a stop in a tapas bar and it was time to head back to Almerimar.

Next morning saw us up and away quite early. We didn't know what the route would be like. Part of it was motorway but there was a long stretch of coast road, in and out of small seaside towns and we had no idea what the conditions would be like. In fact, it was an easy drive. The road was spectacular in places, even before we got out of the plastic and there was even time to stop for morning coffee and tostadas. Yumm! We made Malaga airport in good time which was just as well as the queue for the flights was almost out the door. Eventually, after almost an hour of queuing Charlie and Hannah were checked in and it was time to part. Off they went into the departure lounge.

And us... well, we headed on back to Almerimar. Of course, we stopped en route for a good lunch... once we found a parking space that is.

South once again

26th-29th June

So here we were again, heading south, aiming to be in Almerimar in time to give Charlie and Hannah a few days in port before flying home.

From Moraira we retraced our path to Puerto San Juán (Alicante) where we once again dropped anchor and prepared to pass the night. We took Charlie and Hannah ashore and showed them the 'sights' of San Juán, such as they are. I don't think they were impressed!

Did I tell you that there is a modern church in the town that has to be one of the ugliest churches we have ever seen? A mixture of concrete, glass and a metal gantry that reminds one of Meccano. The final detail was some pretty gory stained glass. It wouldn't have looked so bad if it was well-kept but the windows are high and so almost impossible to keep clean in the salty atmosphere and the same applied to the Meccano structure which needed, as a minimum a fresh coat of paint. The gate to the church was open as we passed by and we decided to look inside. Here, all was fresh a clean and light was pouring in from the windows. Not so bad really.

After dinner on board Charlie and Hannah went ashore for a walk along the beach. Then it was time for bed and an early(ish) start the next morning. Our next planned destination was Torrevieja but we were making such good time on a perfect wind that we decided we could detour to the island of Tabarca. It was Sunday so the anchorages were both very busy but we easily found a spot and were soon headed ashore for an explore and a sandwich lunch. The town was busy, throbbing with tourists visiting from nearby Torrevieja and Santo Palo, out to enjoy the simple delights on offer.

From there to Torrevieja and a berth in the Club Nautica. It is so nice to be able to wander ashore at will and we all took advantage of the freedom it offered. Charlie and Hannah visited the fair, as we had anticipated they would. We oldies settled for a walk and a coffee. Then next morning the two youngsters took advantage of the 'new' shops there were to look at in the town while Tony and I stocked up with provisions. Then it was time to leave, Cartagena was beckoning. By now it was lunchtime.

Somehow, the coastline seemed less crammed with huge apartment blocks. Obviously the initial shock was over and I was able to take in the stretches of countryside that lay between the major conurbations. Even La Manga didn't seem so overbuilt.

It was a good afternoon's sail and we were approaching Cartagena around four o'clock. It seemed such a pity to detour and stop for the night... so we didn't! Of course, once the decision was made the wind dropped and we wallowed along the coast for a couple of hours before admitting defeat, turning on the engine and bringing in the sails.

What a difference it makes having just one more person to take a watch. It hardly seems a chore to stay awake for one stretch of three hours, instead of having to do two watches. This was sheer luxury. Charlie, please come back and live with us...

By late morning we were heading into the marina at Almerimar. On the shore the land was covered in poly-tunnels, not the most attractive of views. But our main interest was in getting into the marina, getting settled and preparing to spend a few days exploring and relaxing before it was time to take Charlie and Hannah to Malaga to fly home.

Moraira again

14th-26th July: Part 2

Charlie's girlfriend, Hannah, her mum, Clair, and brother, Max, arrived in Javea the next day. Javea is a short distance up the coast from Moraira and we decided we would go there for a couple of days at least. I phoned the marina but at the time there were no places, of course, but we could try later. We upped anchor and headed off to Javea anyway. If we couldn't get into the marina we could always sit at anchor, as usual.

The anchorage in Javea didn't inspire us. Mooring buoys had been laid but there was no indication what size boats they were designed for or even whether they were available to all and sundry. In any case, there were none free so we found our spot, dropped our anchor and looked about. There was absolutely no way to go ashore with the dinghy. Charlie needed to get ashore in order to join Hannah and her family in their villa. Off they went, Tony and Charlie in the dinghy, determined to find a way to the beach. Eventually Tony came back, not too happy. They had made their way along the shore until they came to an open space that was available for jet skis to get in and out from the beach. Fine, that would suit a little dinghy. But no, as soon as they started to head for the beach they were shouted at... 'you can't come here!!!' Well, Tony was having none of it. He was tired of always giving way, always being polite. So, "I am coming ashore for two minutes, like it or not.' And he did.

I telephoned to the marina once again. They had a place! Eureka! Off we went. It was one of the nicest, friendliest Club Nauticos that we have visited. A bit of a walk to the town it nevertheless had most things we would want including a swimming pool that we never got round to trying. Typical us, don't you think! There was also a very popular restaurant where we enjoyed morning coffee and tostadas and wished we could have had time for lunch or dinner. We were told we could stay one night, managed to extend to two, but that was it.

Back in May we visited the town of Soller on Mallorca on the day they celebrated their annual fiesta, the battle between Moors and Christians. It was a fabulous day, everyone happy and it seemed such a fun occasion, a day for the local population, not for tourists, not orchestrated in the least. There were firecrackers being let off every few seconds it seemed and men with shotguns gaily letting off blank cartridges, often pinching the girls' straw hats and shooting a hole in the crown.

It was Moors and Christians week in Javea. And it was well and truly orchestrated. We arrived in time for the last two days. The major battles had been fought and won. On Sunday the Christians took over the 'castle' that had been set up by the port. The costumes that the principal characters wore were sumptuous, truly gorgeous. Incidentally, the main protagonists were older couples, not young dolly birds! The noise was horrendous. It was my misfortune to visit the supermarket as one of the final battles was being fought outside. Even inside the supermarket the noise of the firecrackers, the blank cartridges and the daytime fireworks was ear-splitting. Heading back to the marina I had to pass the main battle and then found the road was closed ahead of me, even for pedestrians. The battle had started in earnest. Fireworks were shooting into the sky above me and then falling uncomfortably close. The noise was deafening. I kept thinking, health and safety would never allow this. And was happy that the Spanish could ignoring such silly precautions. But still, I searched out a safe way home, through the back streets.

We had dinner with Hannah and her family and then next evening a barbecue at their villa. Back on board Ganymede that night we were comfortably settled when the expected fireworks started up. Now, you would think we had had enough of fireworks by now. But no. This time the main body of the spectacle was opposite our pontoon. It was stupendous. How they manage to think up so many different, new types of firework I cannot imagine. This display was mostly on the water, can you believe. Stunning. Come to Spain for your summer holiday if firework displays are your thing!!! Or battles between Moors and Christians!

But our two nights in the marina were soon over and since the anchorage was so awful and access to the town impossible we decided to head back to Moraira, quiet now after their week of fiesta. It was back to our old spot in the anchorage, back to asking in the marina office each day if it was okay for us to leave the dinghy... same old thing.

Charlie, Hannah and her family visited us and we did the unheard of: we went out for a sail. Not to go anywhere, just for the pleasure. We hadn't done that for a long while, if ever. We also visited the weekly street market but that was about it, other than the usual coffee, WiFi and supermarket.

On Friday, our last day, we had been out all morning and were heading back to Ganymede after a long lunch. As we got out of the marina I looked at Ganymede and said, 'Something's wrong. She's sinking!' Although in the town there was hardly a breath of wind and in the marina itself there was flat calm, a huge swell had got into the bay and we could barely see Ganymede over the 1-2m waves that were rolling in. Certainly, it was impossible to get on board, it would have been too dangerous. We headed back to the marina.

There was no way I was going to spend a night on board at anchor in those conditions so it was back to the marina office to see if we could get a place for the night. Not a chance was the first answer. Now, as it happens, there is a CCTV camera that can look out into the anchorage. 'Look!' I said, 'See what it is like. We can't stay there.' The woman in charge looked, was appalled and got on the radio... we had to be found a place. Eventually it was decided we could go on the waiting quay but we would have to wait for the sea to calm down before we could even think of moving. I was even considering abandoning her to her fate and finding a hotel for the night. By the time we were able to get back out to Ganymede, another, much smaller boat, had taken up residence on the waiting quay. Bother!!! Eventually a berth was found and we were safely tied up - but we had to leave by 9.00 am next day. Bliss - I love being at anchor, but the joy of being able to walk off the boat and into town is also not to be missed.

Next morning Charlie and Hannah joined us and we set sail, heading south yet again.

Moraira Again

12th - 14th July

We knew that the wind wasn't favourable for a sail up the coast and we left the harbour at Torrevieja intending to make a long tack out to sea. Our first concern was the myriad of small boats that were at anchor, mostly fishing. We had to plot a careful course through them, so no sailing until we were clear of them.

Next, I had a brainwave... Why don't we go to Ibiza? 'Don't be silly,' said Tony,' we are going in totally the wrong direction'... and then the wind changed and we were going in the right direction. By this time Tony had had time to think about it and, you know, Ibiza didn't seem such a bad idea. And that's what we did. For maybe an hour we sat in the cockpit, enjoyed the sail and headed for Ibiza, crossing our fingers that some time before Friday the wind would be favourable to sail back to Moraira. But it wasn't to last. Tony went down below - why do these things always happen when Tony is 'Down Below'? - and the wind changed. Not a gentle little wind change, that would have been too easy. The wind changed by 60 degrees... causing the sails to flap and generally cause minor chaos... and took us in the direction of Moraira. 'Can't we just go to Ibiza anyway?' 'No,' said Tony, 'it is not practical to continue on to Ibiza. Not now!' So that was that. We headed for Moraira.

It was a good sail, a good long tack heading up the Costa Blanca. We had no real plan as to how far we would go that day, everything depended on the wind. Soon we could see Tabarca Island but as we got closer we could also see that the anchorages both sides were very full. Also, the gentle sail we started with had turned into a not so comfortable sail. We decided to stop at Porto Santo Palo, just opposite the island, but once there it was obvious why no-one else chose to anchor there: it offered no shelter, there was no way to get ashore (nothing new there!) and it was very choppy. We had a quick lunch and set off on our way again having decided to stop once again at Puerto de San Juán, provided there wasn't too much of a swell.

But you know, it was no longer a good sail. It was a very hard sail with a choppy sea and an increasing wind. We would have reefed the sails but we were so near to Puerto de San Juán it seemed hardly worth it so we battled our way through the waves making good speed but certainly not relaxing. Around us most other boats were taking in their sails or struggling to make way. It is a strange thing we have noticed. When a boat is over-rigged, that is, it has too much sail for the conditions, it usually goes slower than if the sails were just reefed in a bit. With our anchorage in site though, we decided to leave things as they were and hope that when we got there it would be possible to anchor. We could see boats there, plenty of them, so it couldn't be too bad, and amazingly, it wasn't. As we came into the shelter of the headland the wind and the waves died and we were soon at anchor, getting ready to go ashore, enjoy a glass of wine, and get some WiFi.

We stayed there two nights. The first night there was a fiesta at the Club Nautica. We saw the tables being prepared on the quayside as we sat and sipped our wine. And then, just after midnight, we awoke to the sound of disco music. They was having a great time and continued to have a great time until three o'clock in the morning. It would have been fun to have joined them...

We slept late the next morning and then coffee ashore and more WiFi. I was sitting looking out towards Ganymede when I said to Tony, 'There's a Guardia Civil boat near Ganymede. I think they are looking for us.' 'Why would the be looking for us?' Why does it always happen this way? 'Tony, they really are looking for us. Look!' Another of those mad rushes, pay the bill, collect the laptops, get back to the dinghy and out to Ganymede, where they are still hanging around, looking... And yes, they did want us. They wanted to see our papers but they were very pleasant, very polite about it. I think what happened was that we should have taken our papers to the port police in Torrevieja but we had misunderstood and thought we were to take them next time... so the Guardia Civil at Alicante were on the lookout for us. Well, that is my theory anyway.

That night a heavy swell came into the anchorage. Another night of being thrown around, of waves crashing on the hull, or the hull crashing on waves. We left early next morning. Are you surprised? It wasn't a pleasant sail. We were on full main and reefed genoa and the sea was not nice. I had felt unwell before we left but by the time we got to Moraira I could think of nothing else but getting into the marina and tied up to a pontoon. And then disaster. We couldn't get into the marina, it was full! So we made our way, once again, into the anchorage and found a suitable spot to drop the anchor.

And there we stayed.