I’m still in bed when Greg starts hauling up the anchor at seven in the morning. Not long after, I’m woken by the beeping of the engine and the rattling of the chain. Finn snuggles closer to me and hides behind a cushion. I jump out of bed and ask why we’re leaving so early. Greg just shrugs: he’d been awake for a while, didn’t know what else to do, so he figured, why not head for Marsaxlokk already? The passage is about 17 miles, but there isn’t a breath of wind. The sea is flat as glass and the heat is relentless. As soon as we approach the industrial harbour, we know we’re almost there. The fishing village of Marsaxlokk is tucked away behind this industrial area. The anchorage isn’t exactly pretty, but according to the reviews the village is worth visiting. Getting the anchor to hold, however, turns out to be a real challenge. The first time it lands between flat rocks, dangerously close to a shallow. The second time I think we’re too close to our French neighbors. The third time the anchor refuses to dig in. The fourth time we end up too close to a quay where big tugboats dock. Finally, on the fifth attempt, it holds more or less. Still, we’re right in front of the quay, staring at three ugly smokestacks. We decide not to stay. After a quick visit to an overpriced Spar supermarket and a fantastic fish shop, we pick up the anchor again and move to the bay around the corner. Much prettier, much calmer. I dive straight into the water. The temperature shifts dramatically: warm on the surface, icy cold as soon as I dive deeper. In the evening, we set ourselves up on deck to watch the Perseid meteor shower. Unfortunately, the industrial glow in the distance creates too much light pollution. We only catch a few shooting stars. The cats, on the other hand, love having us out there; they’re thrilled to lie up front on deck with us. Greg heads to bed, while I stay a little longer with Nelly. Half an hour later I wake up, still lying there with her beside me. I pick her up and we head inside together. The next morning I can feel right away it’s going to be another scorching day. I jump into the water first thing and scrub the side of the boat a little. I keep wondering where those black streaks and little scratches have come from. The swim barely cools me down. In the meantime, we discover our SUP has developed a big bubble, like a paint blister. I don’t dare use it, afraid it might give out. Thankfully, the SUP itself isn’t damaged, the blister is only in the top layer. What a relief!

We leave Gozo behind and set course for Malta. The sea is flat as a mirror, so before long we pack away the sails and continue under motor. It’s Sunday, and we notice it right away: the bay where we want to anchor is packed. Still, we manage to find a spot and, surprisingly, the bustle doesn’t bother us here at all. Everyone is just enjoying themselves in their own way. Some boats are rafted up ten deep, simply sharing food, chatting and having fun together. We slip into the same relaxed rhythm: a bit of swimming, a bit of lazing around on board, there isn’t much else to do in this heat anyway. Just before sunset, we take the dinghy out for a ride. In the rocks we spot little beach huts, where families gather to eat, swim, and talk together. It feels so Mediterranean, almost like stepping into a postcard. On the sandstone-colored cliffs, people are climbing up, and soon it becomes clear why: the sun is setting. The sky turns completely pink, and we float quietly in our dinghy, both mesmerized by the view. The following evening we head out on foot. We hike over the sandstone cliffs and test our drone again. To our delight, it works just as before. Hooray! For now, though, we’ll only launch it over land. I’m not ready to risk flying it over water yet. In truth, the drone feels almost unnecessary, since the view from the cliffs is already phenomenal. The path climbs steeply, and at times we nearly slip, but the effort is worth it. From the top we continue through forests and a desolate landscape that reminds us of Iceland. When we return to the quay, families are unfolding tables and lighting up barbecues, a wonderful sight. As the sun sets, we take the dinghy back to our boat, make homemade pizzas in our little oven, and end the evening with a game of Catan, the dice version.

The sea is choppy, but seven miles later we’re anchored in the crater-like bay of Dwejra or Saint Lawrence, with the impressive Fungus Rock right beside us. Finding a good spot to drop anchor is a bit of a challenge: the seabed is covered in rocks and posidonia, with only the occasional patch of sand. After a few attempts and some frustrated shouting at each other, our anchor finally holds. The bay is absolutely stunning. Gozo keeps surprising us. For me, this is already the most beautiful anchorage we’ve ever stayed at. Towering cliffs almost completely surround us, and everywhere we look are inlets with mysterious caves. In the late afternoon, a 33-meter sailing yacht, PIAFFE DOS, drops anchor right next to us. Normally yachts of that size anchor farther away from smaller boats, but in this bay it’s impossible. An impressive ship indeed! With snorkel and fins, I dive into the water. Once again, it’s a beautiful snorkeling spot. I swim up to the caves, push aside my fears and venture into the dark water. No moray eels or other creepy sea creatures spotted (thankfully), but it feels pretty special to snorkel inside a cave. In the evening, we witness the most spectacular sunset we’ve ever seen. Just through a small opening in Fungus Rock, the sun peeks out one last time. Breathtaking! It felt like the whole bay fell silent for a moment. That night, I wake up to strange bird sounds. Luckily, we had read about this in the Navily reviews, otherwise I would have been completely puzzled. I had no idea shearwaters (birds) could make such bizarre noises. Even Finn looks surprised. Strangely, you don’t see many “regular” gulls here. Greg looked it up: apparently, people in Malta have a long history of hunting birds. Poor Finn, he doesn’t like the Maltese islands much anyway. I crawl back into bed and enjoy a night without swell. Wonderfully peaceful! The next day, we head out for a walk despite the heat. We easily park the dinghy and climb up, first to the Inland Sea (a small inlet of seawater that you reach through a cave) and then on to the village of San Lawrenz. There, preparations for the festa are in full swing: enormous flags already wave proudly in the wind. We stop for a bite at Ta’Dbiegi Cafeteria (a Ftira, a local specialty, and a salmon sandwich) and wander through the craft village. After a quick supermarket stop for fruit, we brave the heat on the way back, ending the day with a cozy barbecue, the second in a row. The following day I don’t feel so great, so I sleep a lot. It’s the weekend, so the bay is quite busy. Meanwhile, Greg is tinkering with our drone. With little hope, we press the start button… and to our surprise, we hear the familiar start-up sound and see the lights flashing. It’s alive! There’s still an error with the back vision sensor, but Greg quickly fixes it. We still have to test it in flight, but this already feels like a small victory. That evening, the loud fireworks of the San Lawrenz festa dominate the soundscape. Nelly hates it, but Finn doesn’t seem too bothered. The next morning, our anchor, slightly wedged between some rocks, comes up without any trouble. Time to set off for the next beautiful bay.

In the morning Greg goes to get diesel and discovers that the bay around the corner is a bit calmer. Fewer small boats pass right next to you; only the big ferries come by, but they slow down on arrival and don’t create a disturbing wake. As soon as Greg is back, we lift the anchor and move over. It’s only half a mile away, so within a few minutes we’re dropping the anchor again. With the dinghy we head ashore and leave our little boat between the fishing boats in the harbor. Taking a small detour, we walk to the supermarket. On the way we pass a replica of Bethlehem. Apparently, it’s a popular attraction at Christmas, but now it looks rather deserted. The houses could use a coat of paint, and the outdoor lighting has clearly seen better days. Still, there are animals in the cages—ducks, chickens, turkeys and peacocks—that look surprisingly well cared for. After that we continue on to Għajnsielem and step into Ta’ Dirjanu, a larger supermarket nearby. It’s always fun to see what’s on the shelves in a country new to us. Right away we notice how many British products they sell. Not so surprising, since Malta was under British rule until 1964. It also explains why people drive on the left here. On the way back to the dinghy, we’re surprised to see horses in the water by the harbor. Later I find out that this is a local tradition, not only to cool the animals down, but also because it’s good for their joints and hooves. The next morning I get up at sunrise to take drone shots. Everything goes well until landing. While I’ve already positioned the drone above the solar panel, our landing platform, it suddenly switches to “auto land,” moves two meters backward, and plunges straight into the water. I try to regain control, but in vain. Without hesitation, I dive in after it and bring it up from eight meters deep. Greg immediately takes it apart and rinses the inside with distilled water and alcohol. Then we leave it to dry, though we don’t have much hope it will recover. Not wanting to let this spoil our day, we take the bus to Victoria (Ir-Rabat), the capital of Gozo. What a surprise: narrow streets, charming little shops, and a wonderful restaurant, Roża. Greg orders the rabbit stew, I go for a summery salad with burrata, fruit, and asparagus, and together we share sweet potato fries. Highly recommended! In the afternoon we visit the citadel, an impressive fortress towering high above the city. We wander through the Archaeology Museum, Folklore Museum, Natural History Museum, Cathedral Museum, and the Old Prison. You could easily spend hours here. After a surprisingly lovely day, we take the bus back to our anchorage. Tomorrow, we plan to sail across to the Blue Lagoon. From afar, we can already see dozens of boats. Some tied to the rocks, others anchored, and many circling around in search of a free spot, just like us. At the Blue Lagoon, where we initially wanted to stay, we quickly give up: far too crowded. Not surprising though, the surroundings are breathtaking. Towering cliffs, carved with both small and large caves, rise dramatically above us. We try the other side, past the swimming buoys. And yes, there it is, an open spot waiting for us. We drop anchor just outside the buoys, where the commercial boats are allowed, and secure ourselves with a line to the rocks. It’s hectic here, almost like being in a theme park. Boats of all sizes shuttle people back and forth or stop for a swim. For one night, we can handle it. In fact, it even gives us an unexpected holiday vibe. At first, I wonder why this place is so incredibly popular. But the moment I dive into the water, I understand. Crystal-clear blue, teeming with fish, and perfect for snorkeling. The sunlight dances across the sandy bottom, creating the most beautiful patterns. We snorkel to a small beach and come across a tunnel that people swim through. Too busy for us, but it’s easy to see why this little island, Comino, is overrun with visitors. After our swim, we wave down the ice cream boat and I enjoy a Ben & Jerry’s cookie dough back on board. Strange to say after three years of living at sea, but that day truly felt like a vacation, just joining in with the rest. Right before sunset, we take our dinghy out and explore the countless tunnels and caves nearby. At night, the bay turns surprisingly quiet. Except for one small motorboat, we’re completely alone. And in the morning, before the crowds return, we lift our anchor and set off again.

Because there were too many waves in the previous bay, we’ve moved to this one. We drop anchor among a row of small motorboats, all tied to their mooring buoys. Onshore, the place is buzzing: teenagers leap from the quay into the water, tourist boats to the Blue Lagoon pass by several times an hour, and everywhere people are seeking relief in the cool water. After our long journey, we lounge lazily in the cockpit today, letting the bustle drift past us. In the evening, we’re treated to a fireworks show. In fact, the festivities begin already in the early afternoon, with loud bangs echoing across the water. It turns out there’s a festa here: each village competes for the most beautiful decorations and the most impressive fireworks. Thankfully, peace returns in time for us to enjoy a good night’s sleep.

At 3 PM, we lift the anchor in Poetto and head off to Malta, super excited. It’s a 320-mile sail to a brand-new country for us. The fridge and cupboards are packed with Italian treats, and the weather forecast looks great. The first few miles go smoothly. The waves start building slowly, but they’re coming from behind, so it’s not too bad. They are pretty tall though, way higher than we expected. We keep sailing under the headsail and set up the wind vane. Greg tries to set up the spinnaker pole with the headsail, but it all goes completely wrong. One of our windows nearly gets smashed and his hand ends up bleeding. Bad idea. We stash the pole away quickly and move on. By evening, our little oven comes to the rescue. We heat up the frozen pizzas we bought for the trip. With this kind of swell, cooking anything else would be a nightmare. Around sunset, rogue waves start hitting us. Most waves still come from behind, but once in a while a set rolls in that throws the boat in every direction. And they are huge. Some even crash above the cockpit. Definitely not in the forecast. And the wind? Supposed to be 15 knots, but it’s blowing 20 to 25 instead. At 9 PM, my watch starts. I crawl into my sleeping bag. It’s so cold with all the wind blowing in the cockpit. It gets dark fast, and the sound of those big waves crashing around is honestly kind of scary. Just before midnight, as I’m about to switch with Greg, a wave smashes into the cockpit. Luckily, we had the doors closed. Sleeping is nearly impossible. Cat food is flying everywhere, fruit is falling out of the nets, and inside the boat it’s a total mess. We’re shouting at each other out of frustration. You can barely walk straight with the swell throwing you around. At 3 AM, I’m on watch again. The floor is covered in dirt from the plants, which are getting tossed all over the cockpit. I just sit there, miserable, in my sleeping bag and life vest, thinking, “We’ll deal with this tomorrow.” This is not the trip I imagined. I try to nap in fifteen-minute chunks but get slammed into the cockpit floor six times. So annoying. At 6 AM, I finally crawl into bed, but I hardly sleep. By 9 AM, I give up and start cleaning. I find safer spots for the plants and scrub the floor with the deck pump. Much better. I try to make things a bit less chaotic inside too, which is still tough with the swell, but I manage. All day, we feel like zombies. Every time we do something inside—brushing teeth, using the toilet—we come out nauseous. We try to nap as much as possible, but even that doesn’t work. Even Greg feels seasick, which is a first. Luckily, the wind and swell calm down a bit in the evening. For the first time in a while, we can walk around the boat without being slammed into something. During my night watch, Greg sticks his head out the hatch to tell me Finn peed in our bed. Poor cat. After two days of camping on our bed, terrified of the waves and with the carrier ready just in case, he couldn’t hold it anymore. I saw it coming. I even tried putting him in the litter box earlier, but he just panicked and ran back to bed. Day 3 starts with laundry and trying to air out the mattress. The whole boat smells like cat pee. We fire up the watermaker and toss the sheets one by one into our mini washing machine. Greg hoists the parasailor. From a distance, we must look hilarious—blue sail up front, sheets flapping all over the deck. And finally, a dolphin shows up. Just one, but it’s massive and swims alongside our bow for a few minutes. That little visit honestly made the whole day better. We’ve actually been able to sail most of the time on this trip. The engine only runs now and then, and only for short stretches. On day 4, Greg nearly gets hit by one of those super fast ferries that go 30 knots. The AIS was working, but didn’t show its speed correctly, so we had no idea what it was doing. It ended up passing just 200 meters in front of us. Later that day, we change the plan. We’re supposed to arrive in the middle of the night, and that doesn’t sound fun. So we look for a safe bay to anchor in. We charge up our flashlights and get ready for a night-time anchoring job. Finally, at 2 AM, after dodging a bunch of fishing buoys, we drop the anchor. According to the chart, it’s a beautiful bay, but we can’t see anything. It’s pitch black. Apart from a single anchor light and a campfire on the beach, it’s total darkness. What a wild trip. We crawl into bed, exhausted but happy. We made it. What a relief.

Nothing special to report. After leaving Pula because of the swell, we’re now fairly well sheltered here. There’s quite a bit of wind in the forecast over the next few days, but as long as the waves stay down, it’s all fine. There’s some kind of street food festival going on. We walk around a bit, but we’ve seen enough after a few minutes. Poetto is a convenient spot to stock up before heading to Malta. We’re loading up on Italian goodies like my favorite drinks Esta Té and Lemon Soda, and the many kinds of cookies you see everywhere here. We do some chores and get the boat ready for the crossing. We improve the setup of the wind vane lines, check the diesel, bilge and engine, and do a thorough navigation planning. In the late afternoon on Wednesday, July 30, we say goodbye to Oriane and Eliseo from Bee Sailing, lift the anchor and set course for Malta.

The persistent swell and the fact that we are not allowed to leave our dinghy on the beach make us decide to move on. We quickly prepare the boat for sailing, pull the dinghy onto the deck and lift the anchor. At first, we plan to sail back to Poetto. Along the way, we chat with Oriane and Eliseo from Bee Sailing and learn that they are anchored in the bay near Pula. We decide to change course. The sea is rough, with large waves, and we are not sure whether we will even make it into the bay. Now and then, waves crash over the deck. Despite the conditions, the sailing is surprisingly comfortable. Only one particularly mean wave causes trouble when it knocks over Greg’s freshly brewed coffee. The floor is covered in coffee and grounds. Later in the afternoon, the wind drops completely and the sea turns into a mirror. The sun slowly disappears behind the mountains, painting the sky in spectacular colours. We drop anchor next to Bee Sailing and unwind in the cockpit. Pula turns out to be a nice place. We are able to pull the dinghy up onto the beach and walk into the nearby village. Of course, we do this right in the middle of the afternoon, when everything is closed and the heat is relentless. We never seem to learn. We do some shopping and Greg is happy, as he has been wanting to cook Belgian beef stew for a while. Tonight, it is finally on the menu. We have been waiting for a package for quite some time, and I finally receive a message saying it has been delivered. So I take the bus to Cagliari, which is about an hour away. Getting a bus ticket is easy with the DropTicket app, and the Arst Finder app helps me check the route and departure times without any hassle. Very convenient. On the way, we pass a lagoon filled with hundreds of flamingos. I am not exaggerating. It is such a cool sight! I really enjoy my time in Cagliari. Sometimes it feels good to have a little time for yourself. I collect the package, wander through the city, step into a few charming little shops and relax at a café with a cappuccino and a cream-filled cannoli. Life is good in Cagliari. For lunch, I order a pizza along with an Aperol Spritz and a Lemon Soda. It could hardly be more Italian. After one in the afternoon, most of the shops close, so I make my way to the botanical garden. The entrance fee is six euros, but the garden is spacious and surprisingly varied. There is a Roman cave, several greenhouses, an ancient water cistern and many unusual plants to discover. It is a great place to find some shade during the hottest part of the day. After my visit, I take the bus back toward Pula. The walk from the bus stop to the beach takes at least another thirty minutes. With a heavy backpack and the intense heat, it is quite a challenge. Thankfully, I can jump into the refreshing water once I arrive. That evening, we are invited by B Caramel, a Swiss couple who are exploring the Mediterranean with their child. Oriane and Eliseo are there as well. We grill all sorts of delicious food and enjoy a fun evening together. During the night, the swell becomes uncomfortable again and sleep is nearly impossible. The next morning, around seven, we decide to leave. We start the engine, lift the anchor and head out of Pula. Most of the other boats have already departed. It seems like nobody got much sleep that night.

We hoist the anchor and sail out of the bay. It’s a bit nerve-racking to maneuver between the anchored boats without using the engine, but it goes well. It looks like it will be another warm day, but the clear blue water makes up for it. After our sail, we’ll be able to jump in and cool off. While we’re underway, Greg starts baking a whole wheat yeast bread, which he puts in the oven a few miles before we arrive. When we finally drop anchor, the whole boat smells like fresh bread. It feels like we’ve become a little bakery on the water. We tidy up, take a refreshing swim and light the barbecue. The next day we take out the sewing machine to finish our curtains. I chose a warm orange fabric that fits perfectly with the wooden interior. It helps keep most of the heat outside. We had already made window covers that could be inserted into the windows, but they kept falling down. It was definitely time for a replacement. On July 20 we lift the anchor again and set course for Pula, where our sailing friends Oriane and Eliseo are staying. So we’re heading a bit west again.

There are already some pretty big waves rolling into the bay, and the forecast says it’s only going to get rougher. So, we lift anchor early to stay ahead of it. The 4.5-mile trip turns out to be tougher than expected. Waves slam into the bow and toss us in every direction. Anything not tied down ends up on the floor. Note to self: even for the shortest trip, make sure everything is secured. The Guardia di Finanza speeds past at full throttle, kicking up even more waves. Much appreciated! Though to be fair, they did actually wave, which isn’t always the case. Sometimes they just glare at you, or as I’ve experienced before, ask for your papers the moment you wave at them. We drop anchor again in that familiar milky-blue water. Going ashore isn’t an option here; the coastline is packed with private beaches and lidos. From experience, we know they don’t appreciate it when you leave your dinghy on the beach. Best case, you get politely asked to leave. Worst case, they just chase you off. With gusts up to 30 knots, we wouldn’t leave the boat anyway. Around us, inflatable mattresses are flying off into the open sea… After two days, we’re ready to move on. The wind has finally calmed down, and we sail out of the anchorage.

We’re moving to Villasimius, a sheltered bay about five miles away, or at least that’s what we thought at the time. We set off around 8:00 AM, while the sea is still flat and mirror-like. Thomas joins us for the trip. After about an hour, we drop anchor in the bay. I dive almost immediately into the crystal-clear blue water. With temperatures climbing above 30 degrees in recent weeks, any kind of refreshment is more than welcome. Greg hops on Thomas’s bike to do some grocery shopping, while I tidy up the boat a bit. Around 5:00 PM, Thomas joins us for an early dinner. He is heading to Sicily shortly after. Goodbyes are never fun, but knowing we will likely meet again in Greece makes it a bit easier. We are staying in Sardinia for now, waiting for a package that still needs to be delivered. We spend one night anchored here and plan to move to the other side of the bay the next day. The night was restless because the swell made sleeping difficult. It is a strange feeling when your entire home keeps rocking back and forth, and that is not even mentioning the endless clattering of things shifting and falling in the cupboards.

After nearly four days of peace at sea, arriving in Poetto felt quite overwhelming. We really should have known better. Anchoring in an Italian bay over the weekend is rarely a good idea. Poetto is, after all, the main beach destination for the people of Cagliari. It is a popular getaway for the locals, so naturally, it was lively and crowded. On the very first day, we had to step in when a few small boats came nearby. Some were anchored too close, while others simply didn’t have a secure hold. Instead of taking action, the owners just stared at us blankly until they, sometimes literally, drifted into our boat. It was a strange experience. And that’s not even mentioning the windsurfers who made no effort to steer clear of us. Poetto definitely wasn’t the highlight of our trip. What made the stay enjoyable, however, was meeting up with Thomas from New Hope. We had spent almost six weeks anchored in the same bay in Mallorca, so it was really nice to run into him again here in Sardinia. That same evening we invited him over to share some tuna. The catch, as mentioned in a previous post, was far too much for the two of us to finish. And sharing a meal is always more enjoyable with good company. One of my favorite pizzerias, Gusteau, is also located here, so of course we went out for a pizza night together. Still, I knew pretty quickly that I didn’t want to stay much longer. The bay was just too busy for my taste. From a practical standpoint, it made sense to be there. We were waiting for a package to be delivered, and the Superpan, a large Italian supermarket, was nearby which made it easy to stock up on delicious Italian products. Poetto itself has a distinct retro vibe. I noticed it the last time we were here, but this time it stood out even more. It feels like time has stood still. The place has a certain charm, though it also appears a bit run-down. It is not really ideal for walking, although the hike to the tower on the hill, past the military area, turned out to be fairly pleasant. Unfortunately, the intense heat and steep slopes made me question my decision more than once along the way. After a few days, we had enough. We were both in need of some peace and quiet. On top of that, the forecast predicted unfavorable swells in the bay. So we decided, along with Thomas, to lift anchor and head for a quieter spot. That is one of the great things about traveling by boat. If you no longer enjoy a place, you can simply move on.

A sunset trip toward Maracalagonis, not the easiest name to pronounce. The nearby bay at Torre delle Stelle is a bit easier to say. There are no large hotel chains here, just villas scattered across the hillside and a quiet sandy beach with two small beach bars. It’s a big contrast to the busy atmosphere of Poetto. The calm here is immediately noticeable. We’re not alone: Thomas from New Hope is with us. We enjoy Piña Coladas on his foredeck, light the barbecue and set up an outdoor movie night with a projector, a big screen and plenty of popcorn. The movie? Waterworld, fitting for life on a boat. Since it’s a film from the ’90s, we assumed it would last about 90 minutes. But nearly three hours later, we’re still watching and wondering how long it actually goes on. The credits finally roll after 1 a.m. Turns out we had started the director’s cut… Probably a good idea to check the runtime next time. As for the film itself: lots of action, not much of a story. I expected a bit more. But the whole experience made up for it. A cozy night under the stars like that is definitely something we’d do again. Being anchored in a place like this feels almost magical. At night, the scent of the forest fills the air. The villas on the hillside glow softly and the star-filled sky makes the whole bay sparkle. Until the swell comes in, that is. At one point, the boat was rocking in every direction. Not the most comfortable, but still bearable. On our last evening in the bay, we head to shore with Thomas and his cat, Captain. We take the dinghy to the beach, dig our toes into the cool sand, and grab some ice cream from the beach bar: a classic Cornetto and a Magnum with almonds. A simple but perfect way to end our stay. The next morning, around 8 a.m., we lift anchor and head off to the next bay.

It’s still pretty early when we lift up the anchor. The sky is just starting to lighten, but the sun isn’t up yet. First, we hoist the dinghy onto the deck, then quietly slip out of Port de Pollença bay. Everything is quiet on the other boats. Everyone is probably still asleep. The sea is calm, almost glassy at times. Not long after, the sun rises behind the mountains, casting a warm orange glow over our faces, the boat and the water around us.
We glance back at Mallorca one last time. What a beautiful island. It feels a little strange to be leaving it behind. After a few hours, Menorca shows up on the horizon. It is much flatter compared to the mountainous Mallorca. We are making good progress with both the mainsail and jib up.
If you were tracking us on AIS through Vesselfinder or MarineTraffic, it probably looked like we were heading for Menorca for a quick stop. But just before sunset, we tack and set a straight course for Sardinia. At nine in the evening, our watch schedule kicks in. We take turns with three hours on and three hours off. I start the first watch while the sea is still calm. Greg takes over around midnight.
Thanks to the autopilot, we do not have to steer, but we stay alert, regularly checking for other boats or floating debris. We sail a bit south of our planned route. Luckily, the wind shifts a few hours later, and we can get back on track. Just before three in the morning, my alarm goes off. It is time for the watch swap. The sea has gotten a bit rougher. The waves make it feel like we are riding a rocking horse.
I look up at the incredible starry sky. There are tons of stars, the Milky Way is clearly visible and even a train of Starlink satellites passes by. The sea is magical too. Tiny flashes of bioluminescent plankton light up with every wave. It reminds me of a scene from Life of Pi. It feels almost dreamlike. Around six in the morning, as dawn breaks, I crawl into bed. The constant rocking makes it hard to fall asleep. When I wake up around nine, I am anything but rested. I have a stiff neck, sore back and a slight headache. The sea stays rough all morning. Between the rocking, I sneak in short naps, read my book (Host by Peter James) and stare out at the water, hoping a dolphin will pop up any second. I am totally hooked on the book. The story is about artificial intelligence and cryonics. Time flies as I get caught up in the twists and turns. It has been ages since a story pulled me in like this. In a few days, I finish the whole six hundred page book. Day two is pretty chill. By afternoon, the waves finally calm down enough so we can open the fridge without everything flying out. It is hot, a bit too hot, and finding relief is tough. Luckily, we have our watermaker, so we can enjoy a refreshing shower in the evening. Still no dolphins or other sea life. At sunset, I play some music to try and lure them out, but no luck.
During my watch, I start watching the series The Boys to pass the time. Day three and the trip is getting a bit monotonous. We are still sailing most of the time, but honestly, we were hoping to see dolphins by now. Nope. Just endless blue water all around. No other boats in sight either. We decide to tweak our route. Rather than heading to Carloforte, we aim for Poetto bay. If we had stuck to the original plan, we would arrive in the middle of the night, which is not ideal given the many nearly invisible fishing buoys along the Sardinian coast. Also, it is time to swap our Spanish flag for the Italian one. After another sticky hot day, I hop in the shower. Still half wet and wrapped in just a towel, I go out to water the plants. Right then, I hear the bait clicker rattling. Something is on the line.
Wearing just the towel, I try to reel it in. It is not easy and soon I realize it is a big one. It is a tuna. After about half an hour of wrestling, Greg takes over while I throw on some clothes. Finn pokes his head out, curious. He knows exactly what fishing means by now.
When the fish finally surfaces, I grab the net and haul it onboard with a big effort. My heart is racing with adrenaline. What a catch. A ten-kilo, eighty-centimeter tuna. The biggest we have ever caught. One thing is for sure. We have plenty to eat for the next few days. Greg handles the filleting. It is something I definitely cannot stomach. Just the smell of fish and blood makes me gag. Greg is surprised. He cannot believe how strong my nose is. Yes, filleting fish is definitely not my thing. Day four and we are almost at our destination. I start tidying up on deck while Greg hoists the parasailor. When we arrive, we dodge a big container ship, lower the parasailor, and get greeted by Thomas from New Hope, who is anchored in the bay too. He points us to a great spot to drop anchor. After 317 miles and 82 hours at sea, it feels amazing to finally be here.
After a refreshing nap, we invite Thomas aboard for sushi, ceviche and grilled fish. We hang out for hours, enjoying the food and each other’s company.
Feeling happy and content, we finally crawl into bed, ready for new adventures in Sardinia.

By now, we know the bay at Port de Pollença really well and we drop the anchor of our El Burro at our usual spot near the military area, the lighthouse and La Fortaleza. Just after we arrive, the sun sets behind the impressive mountains. The next day, we meet up with the crew of Kalypso, Santi and Nora. They have two guests visiting, so they join us for some drinks on our boat. An Argentinian, two Belgians, a Frenchman and two Germans, it almost sounds like the start of a joke. I’m still amazed by how many fellow sailors we’ve already met, from all over the world, all finding their way to the Mediterranean. The day after, we invite them over for the famous El Burro barbecue. I think barbecuing on our boat has become kind of a thing by now. The six of us, plus our two cats, are hanging out on the foredeck. It’s a bit tight since the boat isn’t that big, but we recently discovered it’s actually a nice spot to sit when we have more people. It’s definitely roomier than the cockpit. We grill chicken and pineapple on the barbecue, pass around some salads and everyone happily digs into the snacks. We spend hours chatting under a stunning starry sky. For dessert, we have grilled peaches with cinnamon and marshmallows. Sounds like a weird combo, but it totally works. Since we’re still in Mallorca, we also meet up with the Alcudia crew: Isa, Benji, Lluis and Stevie. We grab burgers at our favorite place, Tirano Street Food, and this time we say a proper goodbye. Though I’m pretty sure we’ll see Isa and Benji again in Greece. The next few days are all about getting ready. We spot a good weather window to leave on Wednesday, the 02nd of July. We reinforce the solar panel, check the rigging, replace the flag lines, tidy up the storage locker, check the engine, and more. It’s a long to-do list, but getting everything in order gives us peace of mind. And then, just as the sun rises, we lift the anchor and watch Mallorca disappear behind the horizon after eight months. We never expected to stay this long, but the island really surprised us with its beauty and wild nature. And of course, we’ve made some amazing memories here with wonderful people. Hasta luego, Mallorca!

Tranquility. Peace. We really needed a break. No social plans, no distractions. Just the two of us and our cats. Alcudia Bay didn’t feel right anymore. It had gotten way too crowded and noisy. Hotels were holding aquagym sessions on the beach for big groups of tourists. Banana boats and jet skis kept racing past. In the evenings, cover bands blasted music across the water. During the day, it was almost impossible to just sit on the boat and relax without all the background noise. It became too much. So finding the bay at La Canova was such a relief. Only one other sailboat nearby. No loud music, no commotion. Just a beautiful beach, a lush green forest behind it and mountain views all around. I took out my sketchbook and started drawing. One mountain especially stood out with its unique shape. I’ve always loved drawing and I must admit I'm pretty good at it, but I had never tried travel sketching before. Now I wonder why I waited so long. It’s really calming to study your surroundings and slowly put all the details on paper. That evening we got comfortable on the deck with the cats, some snacks, pillows, blankets and a good book. After sunset the sky turned into a beautiful blanket of stars. Some were clearly visible, others were faint, but you could still sense them there. Sleeping out on the deck felt magical. The temperature was perfect. The cats curled up beside me. Greg stayed out there too, until around three in the morning when his back started hurting and he moved to the bed inside. I honestly slept better than I had in a long time. I woke up with the first light and stayed awake as the sun came up and warmed everything around us. The next day was just as peaceful. We took a walk through the nearby nature reserve and then cooled off with a swim. At first we thought about sailing to Menorca the following day, but the weather forecast looked rough and we decided comfort was more important than fighting waves. So around five in the afternoon we pulled up the anchor and set off on a calm sunset sail toward Port de Pollença.

I've lost count of how many times we've sailed in and out of this bay. But this will be the last time for a while. We've decided to sail back to Greece and spend the winter there. Before we can leave, though, we still have a few things to take care of in Alcudia. We've ordered a 470-watt solar panel that we need to pick up and install. The plan is to mount it on the bimini, but first we need to build a solid structure for it. And of course, we’re saying goodbye to the people we've known here for so long. Or rather, we’re just saying “hasta luego.” We’re going back to our favourite Indian restaurant one last time, where the table was once again filled with colourful dishes. After that, we had a chocolate tasting: Belgium versus Switzerland. Switzerland came out on top, although I have to admit the flavours were so different that it was nearly impossible to compare. And honestly, with five Swiss people and just one Belgian, it wasn’t a fair fight anyway. Still, it was a GREAT evening! The weather isn't cooperating at all. Not because it’s rainy or cold, quite the opposite. It’s so hot during the day that we barely have the energy to do anything. Cooling down is tough, even for the cats. On the final day before we lift anchor, we’ll take Nelly to the vet for her rabies shot. After that, we’ll run some errands, do a few loads of laundry and (mostly) finish installing the solar panel.

At sunrise, we are already up on deck, ready to lift the anchor and sail from Alcudia to Pollença. It seemed like a great idea at the time, although after a short night thanks to a cozy barbecue in our cockpit, it feels a bit less appealing. There is a light breeze, so we hoist the sails and sail on a beam reach towards Alcanada. But as soon as we reach the shelter of Coll Baix, the wind completely disappears. We start the engine and lower the sails. As we enter the bay of Pollença, it immediately feels familiar. Our friends are already there: On Y Va, Muhuhu and New Hope. Donna is with us too, they joined the early morning sail. Greg is leaving for Belgium in two days to surprise his sister on her wedding day. In the meantime, he gives me a short but important briefing on how to manage the power usage, which valves to close in case of emergency, how to let out more anchor chain, and most importantly how to start the outboard motor of our dinghy. On June 12, the moment arrives. I start the dinghy’s outboard and drop Greg off ashore. From that point on, I am alone on the boat. Well, almost alone, since our cats are with me and there are still friends anchored in the bay who I know I can count on. The days that follow are actually really pleasant. Life on board feels calm and familiar and I start to truly enjoy the solitude. In the evenings, I often join the neighbours for dinner. We have cozy pasta and pizza nights, Caetlin invites me for her delicious quiche, and afterward we play card games. I feel truly grateful for these warm moments and the support around me. The outboard motor remains a challenge. It fails to start more often than not, which is frustrating. Luckily, Ben is always patient and keeps explaining what I need to do and what to look out for. One evening, I notice a thunderstorm building over the mountains. To be safe, I let out more anchor chain and keep a close eye on the weather. Thankfully, the storm stays away. Aside from a bit of rain and some gusty wind around four in the morning, everything stays calm. My anchor alarm became my closest companion that week. Before I know it, the week has passed and I receive a message from Greg saying he has landed. Soon after, I pick him up at the dinghy dock. George and Sinead from Muhuhu had already left earlier that day and we feel that our goodbyes to the others are coming closer as well. That evening, we celebrate Oriane’s birthday from Bee Sailing. Slowly everyone begins making plans to sail to Menorca. We first need to return to Alcudia to install our new solar panel and to celebrate the splash day of Isa and Benji from Malou. But before all that, we host one last evening on our boat. We cook Asian food and enjoy the atmosphere, the laughter and the never-ending conversations. Saying goodbye is hard. We have spent six weeks almost constantly with Donna and New Hope and at least four weeks with the others. Of course, we know we will see each other again, probably somewhere in Greece, but the farewell still feels strange and a little empty. We lift the anchor and head back to Alcudia to take care of a few final things. Once that is done, we plan to follow the others and continue our journey east.

Travel isn’t so much about the place you’re going, but about the people you meet along the way. And here in Port de Pollença, we’ve felt that more than ever. From the very first moment, it was one big celebration. Barbecues on Thomas’s boat, with the smell of freshly grilled food floating through the air and laughter that just kept going. During watersports, we ran around with wet hair, completely happy. It wasn’t really about what we were doing, but that we were doing it together. The past few weeks have been full of those small, perfect moments. Lying on the catamaran’s trampoline with a hot chocolate in our hands, while the stars sparkled above us and the stories only got better. Wandering through the market, eating burgers together, sharing pizzas on the beach with sand between our toes and the sun warming our skin. And playing games where laughing mattered far more than winning. And the flotilla? That was really just one big floating party. A warm family feeling where new faces immediately felt like old friends, and old friends felt like they had never been away. Port de Pollença is beautiful, but it’s mostly the people and the moments we shared that made this trip so special. Memories to cherish forever, made on the water, in the sun, and under the stars.

We hoist the mainsail and sail with a broad reach toward Cap Formentor. Because of the mountains, the wind is very unpredictable with lots of gusts, but there are no waves, so it’s still manageable. We decide to sail a bit further offshore first to find more stable wind and avoid having to tack too often. After a long sail out, we tack to head toward our destination. We decide to sail straight to Alcudia instead of Coll Baix, which doesn’t look all that comfortable from a distance. The VHF radio is busy. Conversations overlap and we hear Spanish, English, French and Italian. Alcudia feels familiar. We drop our anchor and greet all the boats we know, both the ones already here and the flotilla boats – Donna, On Y Va, Muhuhu and New Hope. Shortly after, we see Bee Sailing entering the bay. We met Eliseo and Oriane last year in Ibiza, so it’s nice to run into them here again. On Saturday, the bay is crowded, and unfortunately, we notice it’s not the same Alcudia as a month ago. Jet skis, banana boats, glass-bottom boats, motorboats… and hundreds of tourists relaxing on the beach enjoying the warm weather. Way too busy and chaotic for us. We already miss the quiet winter and spring seasons. But Alcudia has its perks too. We meet Isabelle and Benjamin from Malou again and organize a cozy barbecue with them on our boat. Alcudia is also convenient: we do the laundry, go to the supermarket and visit the ferreteria. Then we lift the anchor and sail back to Pollença, which now feels just a bit more idyllic.