The irony of our meal in the Real Club in Alicante was that the starters of thin sliced scallop and the best squid ever were great but the much anticipated snails and rabbit paella was awful. The rabbit was all bone and the snails were so small they resisted extraction with the tools (fork) to hand and a frustrated shell crush really didn’t help matters.

On then to our next port which we debated as progress was engine driven again and we wanted to optimise the passage to Ibiza. Reading my 20 year old pilot book but also consulting the excellent ‘Captains Mate’ app from the Cruising Association, we chose Moraira as we wanted to watch the England vs Belgium World Cup game and it seemed the right sort of place. Our selection proved to be inspired with an alongside berth and a very good 3 course meal in front of the telly for 15 Euros. The only downside was bad reports of water quality but with only two of us on board and 500 litres in the tanks, we chose to avoid any potential contamination and press on.

Our passage to Ibiza was memorable because WE SAILED all be it only some of the way but the silence and motion was invigorating. To secure a berth in San Antonio we had phoned to put our name on a waiting list at 9am and only found we had been successfully allocated a berth when back in signal range – I am still paranoid about turning the satellite system on after the horrendous charges. Dave had never been to Ibiza and the Clubbing Capital of the Mediterranean certainly ticked his box although we were both asleep by 10pm, sleeping through the heavy beat pulsing across the harbour.

We were now planning our cruising stops to optimise our arrival in Barcelona and we decided on a short passage to an anchorage on the northern coast of Ibiza. The anchorage was rather crowded (as they tend to be in the Ballearics) and we dropped in 17metres depth expecting a wind shift overnight. To avoid shearing about which the Southerly tends to do with its high topsides and coachroof, we rigged our steadying sail which kept us straight and prevented troubling our American neighbours on one side and Swiss on the other.

I decided it would be a good idea to take a look at the undersides and the fouling situation having fitted an ultrasonic system before our departure. I was only immersed long enough to see that the prop anode was missing when I was stung by a jelly fish. It was about the size of a small coffee cup and had black/purple spots. I have since identified it as Pelagia noctiluca and it is quite common apparently. It was bloody painful and the rash turned to blisters and then scabs.  So, the prop anode was missing and needed replacing so, with uncertainty whether we would anchor again and not relishing a dive in Barcelona harbour, I had to ‘get back on the horse’ and using the (brilliant although I say it myself) diving system, replace the anode which thankfully only involved three allen key screws which I wound up as tight as I could.

Dave writes………….

Yes, Ibiza was attractive from the sea but clearly set up for people at least 40 years younger who want to sleep most of the day and listen to bass heavy music all night. We had a good  (and healthy) meal on board and turned in early(ish). This strategy clearly paid dividends the next day when we were the perkiest people consuming a cooked breakfast (full English) at 09.30.  Our laundry was picked up at 9am and returned at 11.30 and although I appear to be down one sock it was both reasonably priced and an effective way of getting our Skivvies and T Shirts restored to wearable state. All in all I quite liked what I saw of Ibiza.

We then marched on under motor and sail to a delightful anchorage in Ibiza where I was surprised and mystified by the deployment of the NUBA (Nick Underwater Breathing Apparatus) which employed parts of the deck wash system, as well as a snorkel and air pump. Nick is very proud of this. Jacques Cousteau will be turning in his grave. However fairs fair as it was effective and the anode was attached.

During the underwater prep for “Operation Anode” Nick was stung by the smallest jellyfish in the Mediterranean – possibly in the world. He screamed out and appeared over the transom with two welts on his shoulder and back. Kept screaming. Pussy. The marks were about three inches long and had swelled up like a blister. Fortunately I was on hand and stepped in quickly and efficiently to tell him to pull himself together and stop crying like a baby. I was then able to administer some specialist anti jelly sting cream (that’s what I told him anyway) and he calmed down and has quarantined himself in his cabin – so that’s an upside to the whole episode then……

Almerimar promised little from the write ups but the Marineros were attentive on our arrival at 9pm, they confirmed that the fuel dock would be open at 7am and that we could then reclaim the deposit (which we forgot to do) on our shower key. We were shown to a berth adjacent to the shower facilities and it came with free electricity and water. We were also adjacent to the bars and restaurants. We ordered a small ‘sharing’ meal which Dave mostly scoffed – with my approval I might add. We had both ordered water resulting in a bill of less than 10 Euros. So, cheap berthing, good facilities and an early getaway, replete with full tanks, it could not have been a better preparation for our next passage. The day was spent motoring in mirror calm and with little to attract on the coast we decided to continue through the night and press on to Alicante. Memorable was the proliferation of bright orange algae which, in the calm conditions collected in huge swathes spreading into the distance.

We had tried to forget the ridiculously priced Puerto Banus Marina experience but it was brought sharply back into focus by an Email received with an invoice claiming that we owed for a second night having paid for our only night’s stay in advance. I was, thankfully, able to send Emails proving that we had stayed at Estepona the night before and Benalmadena the night after – phew ! They then graciously admitted their mistake, thanked us for our custom and hoped to see us again – unlikely !!!

Real Club de Regatas de Alicate was selected (from Cruising Association comments) instead of the larger new Marina which I had stayed in before with my previous yacht. When we finally located our berth, it turned out to be the furthest from the office and once secure, we trudged the dock to sort out the inevitable paperwork and savoured the ‘dirty beer’. The heat was stifling and the daunting prospect of a later sortie ashore was alleviated by a review of the menu at the excellent clubhouse.

Many years ago, a traditional family restaurant in the Born quarter of Barcelona served a delicious dish of rabbit snails and prawns which was excellent. The restaurant was very charismatic with ornate tiling and panelling. The staff resembled a throwback to earlier times and you could imagine Hemmingway sat in the corner with a large glass and a cigar. Sadly, the restaurant closed long before we reluctantly ended our tenure in Barcelona so, imagine my delight to find a paella featuring rabbit and snails (no prawns in prospect) on the menu at the Real Club. It has to be done !

With the permits for the Cabrera Island Reserve fully allocated and San Antonio declaring that the Marina is full, our direction after Moriara tomorrow for the England/Belgian World Cup match is currently under review and the last minute forecast will certainly have a bearing on our bearing !

Dave writes (oooh err……….) :-

The last few days have been el scorchio. In fact:

Its’ hot
How hot?
Too hot?

Damn hot.
You can be hot with your woman but don’t be hot with me.

It’s 06.15 in the morning
and what does the “0” stand for?
“Oh my God”

What film is that a (rough) quote from? – (easy peasy.)

The going rate for marinas since we have been in Spain has been consistently 43 Euros including water and electricity. This included a very enjoyable overnight in Estepona where we were able to shop and, avoiding the ubiquitous faux ‘Irish Pub’ which seemed to be populated by loud scantily clad young lads and lasses, we found a wonderful out of the way local bar. The bar was memorable for the arrival of a middle aged Scottish bride and groom, the bride in white (rather pissed) with a very elaborate hair doo. They were known to the bar owners and we exchanged lots of toast and shots before their guests arrived.

We had already braced ourselves for the Puerto Banus experience so our ‘tuck up antennas’ were deployed and fully tuned. We had paid 121 Euros in advance for the berthing entitlement so, on our arrival we were confronted by, not only an extra charge for electricity but we had to wire a unique plug for the privilege. The 60 Euro deposit for the entry cards for the showers and dock access (although it is left open) was another ‘kick in the teeth’ so it was no surprise to us to be nearly the only sailing yacht in the whole marina. It would seem that people with motor boats have either deeper pockets or less regard to the principles of value for money.

Our reasoning for visiting Puerto Jose Banus Marina was slightly perverse. Having been thoroughly fleeced in Porto Cervo in Sardinia 20 years previously, Puerto Banus was the other ‘prime’ Mediterranean marina that begged a ‘tick in the box’. Well, we have done it, never to return and justified in thoroughly slamming the place. The Cruising Association have comments on most destinations around the World but Puerto Banus is missing from their revues. I am inclined to rectify the omission and pass on at least some wisdom about the place.

Having said all that – we did find a bar to watch the rugby and it was a perfect location to rendezvous with Verity and David who are holidaying nearby and it gives me the opportunity to reciprocate some of the generous hospitality provided for a family celebration during my return from the Algarve.

With a reference to (crew) David’s blog efforts, I was conscious that he was sat with a pad in his hand this morning and gazing into the distance. Asking him if he had succumbed to work pressures and was handling delicate Company matters he replied ‘no I am working on a limerick’ so brace yourselves !

Dave’s response:

Skipper has been speaking to me, quite sternly and I am rather reluctant to say, somewhat hurtfully about my blog efforts and limerick. I am trying to maintain a brave facade and I am confident I will be able to come back with a limerick even better than the first one – yes really!

Well, for those of you who are regular readers of the blog, you will understand that the policy of allowing the crew the opportunity to make their input has had mixed results. The high spots have been Stephen, Ollie and Bob with Peter writing barely comprehensible drivel, John trying hard but being merely informative and having to make up daily excuses on the Atlantic crossings for Barry’s reluctance to put ‘pen to paper’ or should that be ‘finger to keyboard’. Readers of the most recent ‘Dire Straights’ entry will be thinking that more than the straights were dire and thank goodness Dave found his vocation in accountancy which is definitely a more fitting career !

Our 75nm passage to Gibraltar from Rota was ‘gutsy’ as expected, motoring directly into the wind and sea which built to ‘slamming’ proportions in the gut of the straights with the additional factor of wind over tide. The proximity of the land on this leg afforded some interest but we really didn’t need the challenge of threading our way through the lines of nets snaking into the distance.

Our first experience of the Gibraltar – Spanish animosity became apparent on our approach. The instruction was to call Queensway Quay Marina on our approach on channel 71 which is a ‘Port Ops’ channel and not for general use. There was a continual chatter in Spanish which completely blocked the channel and rendered communication with the Marina impossible necessitating a phone call and agreement to use another channel. The Marina staff, facilities and ambience were exceptional and coupled with the fee of £21 for the night, it could not be faulted. Meeting Dave’s brother-in-law, Martin, who lives there and sharing an excellent Indian would have put the ‘icing on the cake’ if it were not for a night plagued by mosquitoes.

Quizzing Martin about the animosity, it seems that there is a constant, petty atmosphere of antagonism. The border is regularly rendered moribund by additional checks and a 7 hour delay to just cross the border is not unknown. Given that a lot of people commute to Gibraltar, this must be incredibly wearing. It seems that the Gibraltar authorities are not blameless in being difficult – the Spanish fishermen regularly (illegally) trawl in ‘Gibraltar waters’  while the Gibraltar fishermen don’t trawl and consider the Spanish fishermen in violation. As a result, apparently, concrete blocks with reinforcing bar poking out were dropped and the Spanish nets were snagged and lost……. Quid pro quo………..?

I am not sure of the reasoning but Queensway Quay Marina is the only marina I have ever visited that has a ‘security boom’ that they pull across the entrance (pictures to follow….) at night and this does prompt some circumspection….. A trip up the rock on the cable car and the usual ape spotting and battery tours topped out our visit and preceded our departure on a glassy sea to Estepona for a very good reason to be explained later.

David writes

Hello all you Blog readers out there (yes I’m addressing both of you). I realise, dear reader that you may have been upset by Nick’s rather direct and insensitive remarks concerning my first blog but please do not be concerned as I fully intend to continue to add some intellectual ballast to the blog through some well-considered thoughts. Whilst I did not receive any positive comments (well not any comments at all actually) on my blog I am taking that as positive feedback and completely ignoring the skipper’s comments in the time honoured manner. In case anyone was hoping for another limerick I have decided to give limericks a rest for the immediate future and this has both ingratiated me with the skipper and bought me some time to compose something worthy of this trip i.e. something that seems to go on forever without actually getting anywhere (author’s note:  this is reference to the unfavourable wind direction which I think the skipper eventually noticed and recorded in the blog for posterity).

Anyway, I agree with the skipper that the fishing nets we encountered en passage to Gib were weird – a net that extended from a boat near to shore out to the horizen as far as we could see. By some miracle we did actually missed these nets and punched on to Gib.

I was pleasantly surprised with the Gib we encountered compared to what I remembered from 15 years earlier – it was cleaner and much more welcoming. The expedition to the top of the Rock in Gib via cable car and a lot of walking was worth it and the views of the Straights and the strategic dominance of the gun emplacements (with only a few surviving) was worth all the effort.

Now pressing on to Estepona where more excitement awaits.