Monday 13th July
I love that we wake each morning to a different view. I am often first up on the boat, in fact, sometimes it is so quiet and still, it feels as if I’m the first up in the whole of Spain. This morning the sea was calm, there was hardly a breath of wind and it was silent except for the continuous gentle lapping of the sea on the rocks. I did have one fellow early riser, a fisherman bobbing up and down in the distance, but the beach was empty.
My view today, as I emerged sleepy eyed through the companion way, was of the huge slab of rock, Vedra Island. It is rumored to have been used for the photography for South Pacific’s Bali Hai and this morning it looked fantastic in the early light and was crowned with a puff of white cloud.
An hour later I could begin to feel the warmth of the rising sun on my back and Vedra’s veil had been burnt off. As other sailors emerge from the yachts around me, the peacefulness seems to demand quiet and everyone is talking in hushed tones, slipping rather than diving in for their morning swim and much like me sitting on the deck quietly enjoying the view, even the gulls seem to be respecting the silence.
As we and the day move on, we become re-immersed in the madness that is Ibiza. We sailed to Fomentera, an Island, joined by a string of rocky islets to the Southern end of Ibiza. Our guide book written in 2011 describes it as being quieter and less busy than the main Island, that alas, is no longer the case.
The bay, Cala Sahona, is shallow and the water turquoise, the beach is of white sand and the cliffs are orange and patterned by ancient striations, it would be beautiful – but for the crowds. It is a mystery to me why so many boats, many expensive large motor yachts, all congregate in the same anchorage for the day. At times the boats are so closely anchored together no one can relax for fear of bumping into each other, skippers sit at the helm anxiously watching the ballet of swinging yachts around them. Swimming far from the yacht is foolhardy as jet ski’s, dingy’s and small motor boats weave their way between the spaces and there is hardly a square foot spare on the beach.
We would move on but we plan to sail to Mallorca tomorrow evening, Penny and Stephen, who joined us yesterday, are keen to do a night sail and this is the only convenient sheltered anchorage for tonight. As the evening approaches the boats thin slightly and we manage to move to an emptier spot, but a noisy flotilla of charter yachts has joined us and the peace of the this morning seems a distant memory.