Episode 5 - Apes, Bananas and a Roller-Coaster Ride down the Moroccan Coast!

Hola Everyone!

Gibraltor … so much more than we would have imagined! 

The Rock Of Gibraltar from sea

After a howling ride from Ibiza, smack on the nose for the last two hours,  we arrived intact and gazed up in awe at that big Rock of Gibraltar. A Swedish yacht fell in behind us as we dropped the main and tried to find the Marina Glenys had previously booked a berth in. 

For those who don't know, Gibraltar is essentially a British Military Base, with 400-500 troops stationed there at any given time. Nets are put up across the marina entrance at night for security, so we took things cautiously.  A huge submarine was stationed at the first entrance wall, behind a military base net that protected that part of the harbour. Loads of high-rise apartments, British garrisons, and lengthy old stone seawalls sat beneath The Rock. We could see yacht masts behind the apartments, finding the entrance was another thing! Well disguised!

A narrow little entrance to the marina! The Sweds led the way!

  

Taking it cautiously

  

The Queensway Marina was yet another jaw-dropping stunner, much like a mini version of our Viaduct Harbour in Auckland. The Rock of Gibraltar stands majestically behind it, and everything else, quietly guarding it. 

Queensway Marina - Gilbraltar

Whenever we are coming into a marina, all crew are on deck preparing multiple fenders and ropes. It is so hard not to keep sweeping your head about to take in all the jewels you are presented with, gazing at the marvellous marinas and their historic surroundings. No two marina setups are the same and we never know, before we enter, which berthing setup we are coming into. We run out 4 large fenders either side plus 2 for the stern and a 'roving' fender if needed. Sometimes we are berthed alongside a concrete wharf, which could be any height, in which case we need a different configuration of lines and fenders. In Barcelona and Cartagena we scored a marina like our NZ setup with floating docks running alongside each boat.  Thankfully there is minimal tide in these parts, but when the wind is blowing or current is strong, it can be tricky. Captain Bruce has mastered the bow thrusters now, so its a piece of cake. (Ha! I can hear Bruce laughing from here!)

Marmax berthed Meditteranean style in front of the Rock

Most marinas use the Mediterranean method of berthing. You back the boat in to your allocated berth, secure stern lines and using a boat-hook, take another aft line that is secured to the seabed forward of the boat, and secure the line to the bow.  There's no point asking beforehand what their setup is, as it has been our experience that most marina managers have limited English and our Spanish is sadly lacking.  So we have only minutes to reconfigure our fender and rope setup before berthing. So it was quite amusing to have our lines received by two lads with the broadest English accent; like I said before, it was as if we had sailed into England!

The average temperature in”Gib” is 17-18 degrees; it was so warm and sunny, no wonder the English flock here. The Gibraltarians are multilingual in Spanish and English, but English is the main language used.  They use English pounds but Euros are accepted by many traders.  It is a duty free port so gold, fuel, perfume, cigarettes and alcohol is cheap.  Glenys bought her first ever pack of cigarettes (32 pounds) should we need to use them as currency/bartering/bribery in the Caribbean.  We've never seen so many watchmakers and liquor outlets in one place – ever! 

Piggies at large again - loving the stodgy stuff! (It's great being the photographer!)

The population is around 32,000, however the total area of the place is tiny, a mere 2.7 km2  They are constantly reclaiming land and extending the perimeter of the 'country'.  The main highway to Gibraltar runs right across the middle of  the airport runway, which is run by the Royal British Airforce.  It is the second shortest International runway in the world. Hard to believe Spain is just on the other side of the runway and nearly 40,000 people per day come across to work in Gibraltar, there is so much work going on. The Brexit deal is worrying everyone there.

You can get married with only 24 hours notice here. (John Lennon and Yoko Ono got married in the Botanical Gardens of Gibraltar so the press could not get hold of it)

Gibraltarians are fiercely and historically proud citizens, and rightly so.  Gibraltar has been invaded and settled by many different races and undergone many, many battles over the years and the British have and will continue to fight to keep it in their possession.  It's strategic location guarding the entrance of the Gibraltar Straits giving access to all those countries off the Mediterranean makes it a very valuable piece of land indeed.

We settled in at "The Angry Friar” pub that night, where Les and I met a few Poms who agreed the bus tour would be our best way to go see the Rock; we were originally going to walk it. A belly full of fish and chips, and English lager, we slept well in our new little marina haven.

Les has a magnetic force to all and any fishing tackle shop, Bruce, to Chandlery shops.  Luckily the whole gang loves fossicking in both.  The next morning we took a long walk to the local chandlery, down a very industrial road taking us past marvelous "big block" historic sea walls and lots of military boys out for a spot of jogging…ahem! Nice.  We found a good sized pair of bolt cutters we needed for the boat and took off to town.

We clambered into a 9-seater bus with an amusing Gibraltarian driver and guide at the wheel.  Wow, Wow, Wow! Have any of you ever been to Saint Michaels Cave inside the Rock Of Gibraltar??? 

Who would have guessed this was inside the Big Rock?

 A cross-section of one of the stalagmites

 We thought the rock only had apes and insane views of 3 countries. What a surprise for us to enter the most incredible, huge and beautifully preserved and presented cathedral cave system ever!  It was simply MAGNIFICENT! The great cavernous cathedral has seating for 400 and is used for quality orchestral and stage productions in the natural amphitheatre; I wouldn't mind sticking around for one of those nights; it was quite ethereal. A cross-section of one of the stalagmites was a fascination for all of us. Why had no one ever mentioned these caves to us before? I guess we never, ever imagined we'd be lucky enough to be here!  

Now...onto the Barbary Apes. We were amazed how soft their little paws were! Soft as a babies hands and feet, though the apes themselves are quite sizable. There are 250 apes within six family groups.  Each ape has a code printed on their inner thigh identifying their family group, and all are vaccinated so let's say, they are “semi-wild” hey? 

Harry the ape looking out over our marina in the background

Glenys and friend

Although they are supposed to be “wild”, the government feeds them at the top of the hill twice a day so that they do not wander into the town.  Everyone is warned not to feed them and they are famous for stealing sunglasses, handbags and anything shiny or plastic which looks like food.  One of the lady's we met in the pub was a tour guide and was telling us how an ape sat on one of her client's heads and took her hearing aid out of her ear.  Thinking it was a peanut, the ape ate the hearing aid. You can imagine the explanation on the insurance papers can't you?!

Views from the top

The runway separating Gibraltar from Spain

  

The views from the top of The Rock were impressive to say the least.  We could see Spain on one side, Africa on the other. Mythological history states that Hercules put one leg on the Rock of Gibraltar and one leg in Africa and pushed them apart to create the Straits of Gibraltar. Pretty cool trick hey?

I've never been to England myself, but we sure got a good taste of it here. Red phone boxes, beautiful English pubs, Marks and Spencer outlets and multiple fish and chip shops on every corner with the oddest stodgy English food.  

70% of Gibraltarians who live here are Roman Catholics, with Jewish and Muslim people mostly making up the balance.  So much military history, magic cathedrals and good solid European concrete architecture.  

The crime is apparently less than 1% due to the fact you are thrown in jail for the night for even an unregistered vehicle. The speed limit is 40 kph so no big accidents for the hospital. The government even pays for school leavers to go to university in England if they so desire. 

Ocean Village: Two casinos, one a permanently moored cruise liner!

On our last fabulous night, after spending 3 hours doing laundry for our next big trip, Bruce took us for an exploration of, what they call  'Ocean Village' which was finished off by a delicious meal and drinks overlooking the marinas. We drank knowing we were going to catch a taxi instead of walking 20 minutes back to the boat, but as we began searching for a taxi rank, Glenys, in her usual form, struck up a conversation with an English gentleman who happened to work in the Ministry of Defence. Of course the dreadful Mosque attack had just happened at home and he was very sorry for our country, but what he had to say about it was interesting. We ended up walking home so we could listen to him. It was a late night. 

Storing up the boat for the Atlantic...now which healthy food do we take?
Glenys, ever the practical with 3 trays of meatballs or
Les, Mr. Sweet tooth with his 16 chocolate Easter Bunnies?

Next morning, we prepared to leave Gibraltar. We were warned to get to the fuel dock early because every Tom, Dick and Harry fuels up on a Saturday morning, to take advantage of the duty-free fuel. I guess if all the bowzers were open, they would have had more customers! It was rather bazaar coming into a fuel wharf with an airport runway beside us separating Gibraltar from Spain. We finally found a live human who manned the wharf. Bruce fuelled up while Glenys decided to...escape. We needed white duct tape and she wanted wi-fi to search for a mailing address for one of her postcard recipients. The wharf was tightly secure so Glenys was not able to scale the fence to get into town; the tender was the only way.  Janelle and Glenys set off, returning 40 minutes later to a huffing and puffing Captain Bruce, no duct tape but a postcard at least posted! 

(Vinnie...I hope you got your postcard!)

Fuelling up with Gibraltar on our starboard and Spain to port across the runway

Glenys and Janelle's grand 40 minute escape!

  

Why white duct tape you ask?  The spray dodger enclosing the cockpit of Marmax leaks like a sieve and seemingly was not designed for ocean passages, but more for Mediterranean mingling. Glenys and I jury rigged it with 27 metres of white duct tape so at least she looks presentable (and dry) until we can find a decent canvas maker back in NZ.

Jury rigging the spray dodger

Off we headed, sails up and set course through the Straits of Gibraltar. Incredible the number of cargo ships and small pleasure craft out on such a fresh, windy day. 

  

 

Ships everywhere on the radar in the Straits Of Gibraltar

 

The culprit. A huge cargo ship we went surfing behind

So...the banana drama! Now every good seaman knows that you never put bananas on a boat when going to sea...do you? Um, Marmax did. So here we are blasting along, playing dodgems with all these massive ships; we felt so tiny! A huge cargo ship steamed past very closely, cruising at 15 knots, a gigantic bow wave and a wake you could surf on behind. 

We pointed the bow into the wake as you do, to avoid unnecessary gear damage to Marmax. “HOLD ON!!”   It was rather fun at the point of nose-diving into the giant wave, we all yelled as lunatic Kiwis do! The “HOLD ON”, then turned into an "OH NO!!!!" As the nose of Marmax went under the surf like a submarine, a wall of water exploded from the forward cabin....I mean, blue, blue water! Despite all of our safety drills “someone” forgot to fully secure the forehead sea hatch. It has a 2-step system, one for ventilation, one for total lock down security. The hatch only had a one-centimetre gap opening. So...not only all the winter bedding but clothes, laptops, cameras, phones, shoes....Arggggg!!!!! What a !#$%$#@!! shambles!

Trying to dry our gear out on the back deck

The first two hours of a 5-day sail down the Moroccan Coast and Les and I already live in 'Saturation City'.  We rigged up a makeshift clothesline down aft in the sun, but the seas had become too heavy with salt so the interior of Marmax looked like a Chinese laundry on a freight train. 

Les - not at all impressed!

We had now entered rough sea conditions with huge swells and 20-30 knots winds blowing. Everything was dry by the time we got to the Canary Islands!  The first meal cooked on the trip at sea, I whistled up a heap of Spaghetti Bolognaise. Lots of delicious tomato sauce, you know what I mean.  Serving such deliciousness in a lurching sea is no mean feat. You must steady yourself by jamming your body in place in the galley, sometimes half way up the wall, and attempt to juggle pots and plates on a gimballing cook top in symphony with the violent lurching and unpredictable wave slams on the hull. As you can imagine, I managed to get hot red sauce all through the tracks of the cupboards, all over the walls while serving up, omelette mix the next morning dumped in the same place, while on a big hit to the hull. Oh mannnnn!...We sat Bruce and Les down and watched those bananas get eaten with gusto. Our dumb fault.

Eat those bananas boys!

As those who are following our tracking system will see, we had to tack (zig-zag) our way down from Gibraltar, past Tangier and down the Moroccan Coast.  We were advised to stay 20-30 miles off the coast to avoid working fishing boats and their nets. We had fairly consistent 20-30 knots abeam by now, with big rolling swells up our stern all the way. Check out the wind chart below...it roars out that funnel down to the Canaries!

For the greater part of this trip we were on auto-helm. I can't emphasize the amazing capabilities of this remarkable equipment enough. If the sails are set right, it can take high winds, surging and rolling seas and the violent twisting that generally goes with it, in its stride and keep us on course. When things get hairy, obviously we flip back onto hand steering. To slow the boat and make sailing more manageable, we reef down. ie. we make our main sail smaller by winding some of the sail down along the boom.  Similarly, we can roll our headsail in to make it smaller too. Our speed is not compromised when we do this, it just makes things easier on the gear, and on us. We maintain 6 - 8 knots most of the time, often doing 8-9 knots and Les currently holds the record with a 11.3 knot run. We need a score board, it’s getting competitive now. We will not hear the end of it from him.

Les do it tough watching his fishing line

The days are getting longer, and the further south we go, its definitely getting warmer. We have settled into our two-hourly watches which is working well. We sleep/read/ write/ do hobbies/Janelle’s schooling and "stuff"...amazing how busy we are really!

After 5 days and 4 nights, we made it safely to the Canaries. Not a biggie trip, but long enough for Glenys and Janelle. God knows how they will handle the next stint of 21 days+ on the Atlantic crossing. It was blowing quite a bit as we entered Arrecife Harbour at the Lanzarote Marina. Decks washed, interiors given a spruce up, a quick fix of wi-fi, then a race to the marina showers!

We arrive at the Canaries - Lanzarote

The Canaries, so far, are also nothing what we expected. Described at various times over their long and eventful history, they have been called the Elysian Fields, The Fortunate Isles, Garden of Hesperides, the Enchanted Islands and the Islands of Eternal Spring. They are an Archipelago of 8 high volcanic islands which rest on the Atlantic Seismic Ridge fairly close to Africa. They have sandy deserts and stark lava fields to lush mountain valleys and a snow-capped mountain which is actually a dormant volcano rising over 3.7 kilometres out of the ocean! The depth drop off around the islands are amazing! We sailed from Lanzarote down to Gran Canaria yesterday and last night, the ocean got up to 4 kilometres deep; just between islands.

Check out the wind which rips through the Straits Of Gibraltar ,
 down the Moroccan Coast to the Canaries

Christopher Columbus set off from these islands on 3 of his 4 Transatlantic voyages and many of the buildings of that era still stand. Over 1000 yachts use the Canaries as a springboard to get across the Atlantic to the Caribbean every year, an example set by Columbus over 500 years ago. Won’t bore you with all the detail but it sure is an interesting place; still Spanish, still using euros as currency. And duty-free. A beer is also only 1 euro here.

The entrance to Arrecife Harbour. Four bronze statues of men on horses at low tide.
At high tide it looks like there are two men swimming with their heads above the water. Pretty clever and very impressive

While we have been in the Canaries, it has been a constant 18-20 knots of wind which has made for some excellent sailing aboard Marmax. On the way to Gran Canaria, we passed approximately 30 kite surfers off one of the beaches. Just volcanoes and acres of desolate lava rock…then colourful kite surfers in the middle of, seriously, nowhere! Weird.

The town clearly survives on cruise ships now and has spent million’s gearing up for these big beasts full of cashed up tourists. Our marina was set up as part of the cruise centre. As the bland faced tourists walk off the ship, they are ferried past the marinas to check out the colourful array of overseas yachts, rather an impressive sight, I must say. Then they are hustled through to markets set up especially for the crowds. One thing that has struck us in these ports who cater for the cruise liners...why are all the shops and markets the same in every town? Outside of our jetty we have Gucci, Versace, Kenso, Pandora…duty-free, but not one customer in them. 

It is so much better to travel in a private yacht! We feel blessed every day with the freedom to chase the sun, do what we want, when we want. Sounds blissful doesn’t it? Anyone who sails the seas knows it is not quite that easy!

Spot the Kiwi yacht on the marina!
When there are loads of boats about, its easy to find our way home

Surprisingly, it took 24 hours of trying to contact the marinas in Gran Canaria to raise someone to help us get a berth. No one appears to speak English here despite it being a massive port. Glenys got hold of someone as we were going through the breakwater of the marina entrance and thankfully, we are able to stay one night though there are 14 yachts waiting for a berth here. Our luck continues. Maybe we get favours with a cute kid on board! 

Janelle all smiles :) in Lanzarote

Not so happy when homework still has to be done!

Final preparations happening on deck today for the long haul across the Atlantic  with the boys rigging up emergency sea anchor and double checking the safety gear. At this stage we are off tomorrow; so no communications for at least 21-25 days from us all, so do not freak out! Janelle has written a blog about all the safety gear we have on board so that our family and friends understand the lengths we have gone to to ensure we are all safe.

We are now looking forward to finding a little island in the Caribbean sun, full of rum, and expecting to get to St Lucia around the 16th of April.

So it is a final adios from us from this side of the world to you all....

See you on the other side...2700 nautical miles away!!

Love from the Marmax crew!  

Episode 4: Marmax leaves the Balearic Islands for Gibraltar

Hola Everyone!

The last time I was writing this blog, we were in the beautiful Port of Pollensa and I was holed up in the marina laundromat where the Yacht Club wifi seemed to be at its strongest.

Today, I am tapping out a Word Doc in a sunny cockpit, on a very glassy, deep blue Mediterranean Sea, travelling alongside an incredibly beautiful Spanish coastline called “Costa Tropical" in Andalusia (a province of Granada) with ancient cities and towns, churches and monasteries, alongside fancy tourist accommodations fringing the water. Highly intensive and terraced horticultural areas sit below the snowy Sierra Lujar mountains.

Leaving Cartagena

The snowy Sierra Lujar mountains with horticultural areas below in the distance

Thanks Simon Reeve for your recent television documentary about the history, economic and political situation of the Mediterranean. In following this coast, all the information for us falls into place. The curse of the discarded plastic from this massive food growing enterprise is certainly an environmental concern. There are state -of-the-art wind turbines proudly placed among the relics of a golden past and we are, unbelievably, being escorted by a pod of dolphins up on the bow…we could not paint a prettier picture on our 40-hour long ocean route to Malaga; who would imagine!

But back to the story. We ended up spending two nights in “Puerto Pollensa”. The Marina Manager gave us a berth at a jetty which was miles from the action, however we are always happy to do kilometres of walking when on land. I have re-commissioned my Fit-Bit to calculate steps and mileage, the numbers are getting, well…pretty impressive! 

Our berth in Puerto Pollensa...that's where the action is way in the distance!

Most of the beauty of the Port of Pollensa was all about the actual marina. Hundreds of interesting yachts, all shapes and sizes, from all around the world. No super yachts for a change, but plenty of “wanna be”, little (expensive) super yachts type launches, many from Germany and England, some real beauties. 

Some of these English guys obviously take their television viewing very seriously

The marina was divided into travelling yachts, permanent live-aboards, runabouts and the traditional fishing boats of Mallorca, the "llaut". The main esplanade was wide and clearly geared up for tourists. Behind the façade, the place was basic and not near as clean and tidy as previous towns we had visited to date.

The traditional fishing boats of Mallorca,the “llaüts”

Phones are amazing these days aren't they? A quick snap walking back to the yacht one night!

Les and I found the markets 10 minutes before they shut. Glenys, Bruce and Janelle found us fossicking amongst leather handbags, giant dates and strawberries, then hustled us, unexpectantly, down the road, as only Glenys can do, and in 5 minutes, we were on a very flash bus, heading for the main town of Pollenca, 7 kilometres away. The town centre was really very special with tradition, history, fascinating architecture and a rich culture all blended together over the centuries. 

The highlight was walking up the top of the hill up the 365 marble steps, called the "Calvari Steps" to the Calvary Chapel. We’d seen it in a brochure and if my sister sets her eyes on a hill, the family have to climb it. I think Les will definitely need a knee operation back in NZ after this marathon! Gorgeous wide steps, a lot of fun to walk up.

The 365 marble steps to Calvary Chapel

The Calvary Chapel

Stunning villas lined the steps

It was my bright idea to have lunch away from the centre, "let’s eat like a local”. In we went to this little restaurant which had no menu (because they don’t) and a lone waiter/bar tender who knew no English. However, everyone knows the universal word of “beer”. So down we sat at our little table and out came the usual tapas with the beers. Then came 3 more intriguing dishes, more beer and a bottle of red wine for the boys. We ate until the food stopped coming and we could barely get out of our chairs. Obviously, as those of you who travel will know, the midday meal is the main event of the day here.  For a mere 7 euros each, we felt as if we had just had Christmas dinner! Quite fun but we missed our bus back to the boat and ended up watching Glenys in a fascinating pantomime, with vigorous hand movements, trying to ask a delicatessen owner, where the taxi rank was. We all crammed into a little taxi with a nice man 30 minutes later and made it back to Marmax intact.

The Port of Soller...just magical

Next morning, we had another diesel breeze around to the delightful Port of Soller. Just magical! The marina was a lot smaller than Pollensa with more local boats than visitors. The first decent size trawlers we had seen, shared our jetty. I found an English-speaking crew member who was happy to practice the language on me. They appeared to mainly trawl for sardines and for, what the Aussies call “Coral Prawns”; a by-product in Oz. Tiny, tiny crustacean creatures by comparison with Aussie and NZ seafood. For those of you who know my trawling background, I was absolutely aching to show the deckies mending nets, how to do things properly. In fact, it would have been rather tempting to design some decent nets for them there and then; their methods are age-old and ineffective, but I guess at least they will never over-fish the Balearic Islands. Though, in saying that, the Mediterranean, as much as it is truly beautiful, the sea life is almost non-existent; like a very clean aquarium before you put your fish in it. I left the fishing crew feeling quite sorry for them, but they were happy, and you must respect their traditions.

Fishing nets being mended in Soller 

The Port of Soller was a pristine beach promenade fringing an ancient esplanade boasting more of that stunning ancient architecture. 

The Esplanade of the wonderful Port of Soller

The next morning, we jumped on the little historic train and went for a ride into the township of Soller, considered to be the most beautiful city in all of Mallorca as it is set in a fertile valley overlooking the Mediterranean with the impressive Tramuntana mountains as a backdrop. The paving stones have been polished like glass for centuries by the feet of its inhabitants. I imagine, when and if it rains around here, walking in high heels would be pretty interesting going downhill. The buildings were just glorious. We had never seen so many orange, lemon and olive trees, the colour was amazing. I read that the name Soller was derived from an Arabic word, “Sulyar”, which means the Golden Valley. That works…it was a true gem. Did I mention the pastries in this town? To die for! We were right little piggies.

The historic train of Soller

The elegant brass door knockers on private villas

There were lots of classy clothes shops beautifully displayed in gorgeous old buildings (Katya Maker…I am thinking of you constantly over here; no wonder you get your inspirations from overseas; you would love it!). Lots of artisans, churches and narrow little cobbled streets.

A little photo of 2 shop fronts for Katya Maker of Warkworth :)

Spent the last hour before heading to sea, picking up “sea glass” off the beach. I think the tourists thought we were quite mad; they were certainly curious about what we were up to. Kind of neat to imagine all the thousands of people over the years who had raised a lip to this pretty glass. 

Les and Janelle collecting sea glass

3.00 pm had us casting off again, unbelievably, still no wind for the 100 nautical miles we had to cover to reach Ibiza. Another clear, calm, starry night. I came on watch at midnight, taking over from Glenys, who stayed and chatted for a half hour. At 12.15am, we completely lost the radar reading for no reason at all. Totally weird. We tried everything to get it working as there are rather large transporter ships moving about at a rate of knots which we are always watching for. Turns out, on investigation the next morning, we had just entered the famous “Triangle of Silence”, the “El Triangulo del Selencio”. A spooky phenomenon, a little like the Bermuda Triangle. It is well known that radars and compasses on ships and aeroplanes often go haywire without any scientific explanation. Google it (we can’t right now), my late father would have been excited by this, our family are crazy about UFO’s and weird stuff.

A German guy told up the Meditteranean was actually nicknamed the "Motorteranean" by yachties
for obvious reasons... 

Janelle, as usual, comfortable for her watch!

Uncle Les...the equally comfortable observer cruising down the Mallorcan Coast!

Farewell to Mallorca...

The island of Ibiza, in flat calm sea conditions, allowed us to glide into all these charming, rocky bays sprinkled in what looked like fishermen’s shacks along the coastlines. Janelle occupied herself playing trapezes off the side of Marmax in the bosuns chair. 

Janelle keeping herself amused off Ibiza

Us girls doing our bit for NZ clothing marketing! All decked out in our Hunting and Fishing gear!

Obviously, a lot more English influence here looking at the designs of the homes. Bruce wanted to be clear of Ibiza by nightfall to make up time, so we continued on to an island to the south called Formentera. This island boasts to have some of the most beautiful beaches in the world. We dropped the anchor in a turquoise, pure white sandy bottomed bay and, mainly because I can’t let my sister beat me at anything, joined silly Glenys and Janelle for the coldest swim I have ever had in my life…just so now we can say – “Yep, we’ve swum in the Mediterranean. Geez!

FREEEZZZZING swimming at Formentera, just below Ibiza

Another 24 hours of motoring followed by 6 hours of awesome sailing. Les kept us entertained by catching our first fish on a spinner at sunset, a tuna, and we had the privilege of meeting some very friendly dolphins who kept turning up to stare at us in the crystal, clear water. They think they enjoyed our squealing too!

Les's first tuna catch aboard Marmax

Unbelievable how clear the water was and how big the dolphins here are!

Into the Port of Cartagena, the first fierce force of military we had come across. We counted 16 naval ships, 2 super yachts, but mostly pleasure yachts and catamarans. Our luck, as we backed in to the marina, the wind blew up to 17 knots which would have been nice to sail in. 

Entrance to Cartagena

A friendly reception from the Marina Manager and the excited liveaboards surrounding us – Americans and Germans. They looked longingly at us, clearly hoping they could share company and beverages with us, but with us having arrived at 5.00pm, a quick sneaky beer in the saloon of Marmax, and we were off for a speed date with Cartagena. We simply do no have time for socialising at times; we are on a mission to get to the Caribbean now.

Les and I have never seen Roman ruins before and this town was full to the brim with them, all in various stages of discovery and restoration. Cartagena definitely did not enjoy the wealth of Mallorca, but to their credit, every street had massive renovation projects going on to protect, not only the ruins, but the stunning facades of their intricate, historic architecture. As night approached, one could not help but notice the step up in street security; police and guards everywhere. We had been warned about the bad parts of the town by the Marina Manager and his words of warning stuck in our head. Lots of suspicious looking young men in the streets as the dark closed in; they obviously have their social troubles here.

The history of this place is truly incredible...we could go on forever about it

Roman ruins running right through Cartagena 

Once we had an eyeful of history and culture, and the back streets got too spooky, time for a drink at a bar. Loving the compulsory tapas, with a beer or wine idea! We have also decided on Marmax, that our main meal will be at midday instead of at night. It is more social when you are spending weeks at sea, and it works with the watches better at night. Watch this space, lets see how long we last!

Farewell to Catagena straight into a 20-25 knot, downwind breeze to get us cracking along. We blasted along under the sheer cliffs lined with turrets and ancient black cannons pointing down on us and made our way through half a dozen big cargo ships lined up waiting to enter the harbour. At the time of writing this, Glenys was trying to find a berth for us in Malaga, but it appears we are to large for them to accommodate Marmax in their marinas.

The wind dropped right off again at dawn, so we ended up motoring into, yet another “curious” port called Puerto de Motril. 

The Yacht Club and marina of Puerto de Motril.

Something every respected Royal Yacht Club should have at the front door
 to welcome patrons...a selection of pig legs (Spanish dry cured ham called Jamon)

  

Parked up in Motril for a few hours

We dropped in as we thought we had to clear Customs before leaving Spain. In broken English, we were directed to the central police station and a very sexy looking policeman informed us that it was not necessary for us to get Customs clearance even though the next port was English, not Spanish. Gibraltar is obviously part of the EU and as Kiwis and Australians aboard, we are authorised to enter. We went for another power walk around the town; nothing to report. Why anyone would live here is beyond us. Because it is not the tourist season here, everything was shut up, but it was still ugly. The marina and Yacht Club were pretty and very accommodating, but Glenys and I agreed, the best thing about Motril was that tall, dark and handsome policeman. We gave Malaga a miss. Gibraltar, here we come!

No pictures of the sexy policeman but here's a girl for the boys

Hoping to tell you all about the Barbary Apes of the Rock of Gibraltar in the next update. We hear that, during the second World War, the ape numbers started declining so Winston Churchill ordered a new batch from Morocco. We should feel quite at home there!

Adios from the crew of Marmax!