Finally, the first barbecue of the year on board! Such a fun and relaxed way to kick off April. Time is flying and by now we almost feel like locals in the bay. It’s not too busy yet and since we’re not alone here, we’re totally fine with staying put for a while. If the weather plays along, we’d like to do some day trips this month to get back into the sailing groove. We don’t really have big sailing plans for this year. Maybe head towards Corsica and then on to Greece? We’ll see. No fixed route, just going wherever we feel like and following our intuition. At least the first week of April is off to a great start. The weather is amazing, we’re relaxing on board, did a solid 19-kilometer hike from Port d’Alcudia to Coll Baix and back, spent a lovely afternoon on Stevie’s boat and are just soaking in all the beauty this unique lifestyle has to offer.

We’re up early. A quick grocery run, then we head back out to sea. The wind forecast calls for strong easterlies, so we decide to sail towards Port d’Alcúdia already. Better now than battling waves later. Along the way, a lone dolphin glides by, barely paying us any attention. Where have all the playful ones gone? Around three in the afternoon, we arrive in our familiar bay. In the distance, we see Stevie waving at us. We tie up to the buoy and instantly feel at home again. This weekend, Port d’Alcúdia is all about the Fira de la Sípia, an annual celebration of maritime traditions and the pride of the local cuisine: cuttlefish. It promises to be a weekend full of flavour, music and discovery. We’re looking forward to it!

As soon as we’re free from the mooring buoy, we set course for Pollença. The trip takes a bit longer than expected, but the sea is calm and there’s just enough wind to sail so we’re not complaining. We have to tack a few times to stay on course. No dolphins today, but we do spot thousands of Velella velella, drifting by like a purple-blue blanket on the water. It’s kind of magical. By late afternoon, we drop anchor in a nearly empty bay near La Fortaleza. It used to be a military fort, but now it’s a luxury wedding venue. We end the day with a sunset and a laid-back barbecue on the boat.

I wake up with severe stomach pain. I had been dealing with it for two weeks already, but it gradually got worse. Time to see a doctor. Luckily, I can get an appointment quickly after sending a message via WhatsApp. After a short examination, I am referred to the hospital for a blood test and further check-ups. Not exactly how I had envisioned my Monday… So, some logistical planning is needed. The hospital is in Palma, a 40-minute drive from Port d’Alcudia, so we rent a car for the day. When we arrive in Palma, we accidentally go to the wrong hospital (which we only realize after an hour in the waiting room), but I receive good care. After some further tests, I am allowed to leave the hospital after 3.5 hours. Fortunately, I feel a bit better the next day. We still have the rental car for half a day, so we make the most of it. We drive to Cala Bóquer for a walk through beautiful nature: cliffs, wild goats, trees and blooming shrubs, with the highlight being the azure blue Mediterranean Sea at the end of the trail. We take a moment to reflect, eat our lunch and walk back to the car. On the way back, a baby goat greets us. Cala Bóquer remains a magical place. For the rest of the week, the wind and waves come from the wrong direction, blowing straight into the bay. We feel a bit trapped by the weather. But it could always be worse. Apart from a few showers, it stays dry, and the rocking isn’t bad enough to make things fall off the table. As for me, Julie, my condition fluctuates. Sometimes, the pain suddenly hits after eating, only to disappear again after a few minutes or hours. It’s still a mystery. I start keeping a journal, noting my symptoms and what I eat or do each day. And then, it’s the week of my (Julie’s) birthday. The sun is shining and it truly feels like spring. I take a dip in the water, we walk along the coast of Playa de Alcanada, and of course, we celebrate my birthday. Greg prepares a big breakfast and in the evening, we go out for dinner with our sailing friends, followed by drinks at the Irish pub. A lovely evening and I’m grateful for all the great people we’ve met on this journey. After another rough night with strong winds, the real spring weather finally arrives. I can’t wait for long walks, barbecues, swimming and carefree relaxation on the deck.

After almost five months on Mallorca, we set foot on a new island. After a tough crossing (see previous blog), we arrived in Ciutadella, a charming harbor town on the Menorcan coast. Despite our fatigue, we don’t want to let Greg’s birthday pass unnoticed. After a refreshing nap, we take a warm shower and decide to have dinner at a cozy pizzeria. Our boat is docked in the Ports IB marina, where we are joined by four other inhabited boats at the pier. One of the first things we notice is the countless stranded Velella velella lining the harbor’s edge. Velella velella, also known as “by-the-wind sailors,” are fascinating, floating colonial organisms. They look like small, blue disks with a transparent “sail” that allows the wind to carry them across the sea. Although they resemble jellyfish, they belong to the hydrozoa, a different group within the cnidarians. When they wash ashore in large numbers, they create a striking blue carpet on beaches and in harbors. Their massive presence often indicates shifting wind directions and ocean currents. The next day, we have a vet appointment for Finn. He needs a new rabies vaccination and a general check-up. Finn is not thrilled about it and meows the entire way to the vet from inside his backpack. Once there, he tries to hide in my sweater but patiently endures all the examinations. The verdict: Finn needs to go on a diet and the vet advises us to remove the white spot (a type of scar tissue) on his head. Luckily, he is otherwise completely healthy! Just in time for the next rain shower, we make it back to the boat. As soon as the weather clears, we head out to explore the town. Unfortunately, it looks a bit deserted. The shops and most restaurants are still closed and the streets are empty. The gloomy weather likely plays a role in this. A poster on the theater’s facade catches my attention. I quickly book tickets online, and that evening, we are immersed for 80 minutes in the intense world of flamenco. More rain the next day, but we don’t let it dampen our spirits. Between showers, we explore the city, which feels livelier now that it’s the weekend. We stroll through the market, buy sobrasada, taste tapas at El Hogar del Pollo and browse the small, cozy shops Ciutadella has to offer. In the late afternoon, we prepare the boat for departure. Originally, we had planned to sail from Menorca to France, but the weather forecasts for the coming days and weeks are not favorable. So, we decide to return to our familiar bay in Port d’Alcudia. We end the day with a beautiful sunset. A perfect farewell to Ciutadella before setting sail once again.

The new month begins with gloomy weather. The sky is gray, a cold north wind blows harshly, and dark clouds predict rain. We do the laundry—the basket was overflowing again—and take a beach walk. The sand, whipped up by the wind, stings my eyes. This isn’t quite how we imagined the start of the spring month. The next day is Sunday and we head to the market. There are more stalls and it’s bustling with activity. Tourists are returning to Mallorca, we notice it everywhere. Restaurants that were closed all winter get a fresh coat of paint and hotels set out their parasols and beach chairs. Fortunately, the number of boats in the bay remains limited. That evening, we’re at Isa and Benjamin’s for a cheese fondue, perfect for this dreary weather. We end the night with a card game, Ravine. For those unfamiliar: you work together to survive after a plane crash on an island. Really fun! Monday, March 3rd. Greg replaces the water filters while I give the boat a thorough cleaning. Afterward, we pick up a Too Good To Go package and treat ourselves to an ice cream on a terrace. The sun isn’t shining, but it still tastes great! We also get a croissant, a neapolitana roll and five pieces of cake. A little celebration! The next day, I sleep in. The wind howls, and the creaking of the mooring lines on the buoy keeps me awake. Low on energy, I occupy myself with creative tasks on board: drawing, writing and relaxing. The following day, Greg hosts a splicing workshop with Isa and Benjamin. It’s a cozy afternoon aboard Malou while the weather outside remains gray and rainy. In the evening, we enjoy delicious Indian food at Bombay Beach. Saturday, March 8th, the weather clears up. Early in the morning, we head to the marina to prepare the boat. Isa and Benjamin have rented a car and we take a road trip to Sant Elm, a picturesque coastal village in southwest Mallorca. It’s like a postcard: houses draped with bougainvillea in every shade of purple, the azure Mediterranean Sea as a backdrop and the rugged silhouette of Dragonera. The sun shines, people enjoy drinks and snacks on terraces, exactly what we do too. After a short walk, the weather turns, so it’s time for practical errands. We drive to Leroy Merlin and Bauhaus. On Sunday, we skip the market and tackle a to-do list: rinsing the boat, tidying up inside, filling the water tank, doing laundry. In the evening, we reward ourselves with Indian food from our new favorite restaurant. A table full of goodies—pure happiness. The next day, it rains buckets. The streets flood quickly. We go shopping, hopping from awning to awning to avoid the worst of it. Soaked, we return to the boat with a full cart. We load everything in, shower quickly and check out of the marina. Just in time, we take the buoy in the bay as a thunderstorm makes visibility zero. We haven’t seen this much rain in a long time. Luckily, it clears up later. That evening, Lluis and Isabelle visit, and we have a cozy night aboard El Burro. Tuesday was supposed to be our departure day, but the wind and waves keep us put. So, a lazy day on board it is. The next day, we get the boat truly ready. On March 13th, Greg’s birthday, we sail out of the bay with a beautiful sunrise.

Time to head back. We seem well-prepared this time. The boat is neatly tidied up, all loose items are secured, the key has been returned to the marina office and Finn has found a safe spot. After our previous sailing trip, we've become a bit more cautious. The sea can sometimes take you by surprise. There are plenty of waves at the marina entrance again, but luckily they all come from the same direction, making it reasonably comfortable. We keep the engine running until we've passed the tip of the island and the two approaching ferries are behind us. A solitary dolphin quickly swims under our boat. The crossing to Mallorca goes pretty well. There are some waves, but the sails stabilize the boat nicely. Finn is a bit anxious (and who can blame him?) and hides behind a cushion, with only his two ears visible. Meanwhile, Nelly is napping at the bow of the bed — hardcore! A rain shower passes by and the wind picks up. We're going fast! You could almost say we're sailing in a sportive way. We do have to tack a few times to reach Port d'Alcudia. As soon as we enter the Bay of Alcudia, the waves calm down. The last miles always seem the longest, but after a long journey, we grab the mooring buoy in our familiar bay. It almost feels a little like coming home.

Right at 7 o’clock, just before sunrise, we cast off the mooring and head out. The wind has almost completely died down, so we motorsail with the mainsail towards the breathtaking glow of the rising sun. A perfect start to Greg’s birthday! Past the little island of Alcanada, we set course for Menorca. From here, it’s a straight shot to Ciutadella! There’s still only a light breeze, but that’s fine. After a whole winter, the engine could use a good run. The waves make the boat roll a bit and Finn isn’t feeling great. But he goes inside and eats his food, so it can’t be that bad. We’re cruising along at around four knots, perfect! I keep hoping to spot some dolphins. Then the wind picks up and we start flying over the water, regularly hitting over 5.5 knots. The waves get rougher and the boat slides around now and then, but overall, it’s still comfortable. At times, the wind gusts over 30 knots, making things more intense, especially with the choppy waves. We furl the genoa, but the boat stays steady. We steer by hand more often to give our autopilot a break. When the wind dies down again, the waves stick around, making it really uncomfortable. We turn the engine back on, but the boat is getting thrown around in all directions. Then things get even worse—the wind picks up again, this time from the south. Waves are coming at us from every angle. We unfurl a bit of genoa, which helps slightly, but it still feels awful. Turning back isn’t an option with these conditions, so we have no choice but to push on. At one point, Greg grabs onto a handle for support, and a massive wave hits. The thing just snaps off in his hand! The last five miles are brutal. The waves throw us around, and a few times, we nearly lose control. The entrance to the harbor is rough, with waves crashing against the rocks, but we power through at full throttle. Finally, inside the channel, the wind and waves settle, and we manage to dock without any problems. We moor up at a finger pontoon, no help needed. What a birthday sail. The boat is a disaster zone. Bikes have come loose, the cockpit is a mess and inside, it looks like a bomb went off. We do a quick cleanup, check in at the marina, and then just crash for a bit. We’re completely wiped out. And just as we’re settling in, a massive thunderstorm rolls through with heavy rain. At least we didn’t have to deal with that out at sea! The harbor is peaceful now, so we head into town for some food.

The second half of February is calm. We are both down with the flu for a while, so there isn’t much action. We spend most of the day either sleeping or sitting in the sun in the cockpit. There are worse places to be sick. Fortunately, after some time, we regain our energy and start exploring again: we go for walks, I explore the bay on my paddleboard, and we take the dinghy out in search of octopuses. We don’t come across any, but we do discover that there are many wrecks along the rocky shoreline near our anchorage. In the last week of February, after a sunny moment in the cockpit, I suddenly feel the urge to jump into the cold water. First, I cautiously dip my toes in—cold, but bearable. Then, I slowly lower myself from my paddleboard into the water up to my waist and finally decide to go all in, submerging my head completely. The icy cold tingles against my skin and my breath catches for a moment, but afterward, I feel completely refreshed and reborn. I warm up in the sun, though my toes remain ice-cold. Luckily, a hot shower works wonders. Did you know that cold water diving has numerous health benefits? It stimulates circulation, strengthens the immune system and boosts endorphin production, giving a natural happiness kick. That evening, we have dinner with Isa and Benjamin at El Negre, which has now become our favorite restaurant in Puerto d’Alcudia. We had been there the week before as well, but to our disappointment, the famous spare ribs were sold out. So, second attempt! Thankfully, Isa and Benjamin had made a reservation. The ribs, served with roasted corn, stir-fried vegetables, fries and a creamy peanut coconut sauce, are absolutely delicious. It turns into a wonderful evening. We end the last day of February with ice cream at Dolce Vita. Long live Too Good To Go! For just 3 euros, we get three scoops of ice cream and two Neapolitana pastries. A perfect way to wrap up the month.

Ten days away from my familiar surroundings. My world revolves around El Burro, the place where I feel safe and have everything I long for. But still, I had booked a trip to Fuengirola, where my mom and my stepdad Dirk now live. The last time I saw my mom was in February last year when we flew to Belgium for a month to visit family and friends. Now that she lives in the south of Spain and we’re still in Mallorca, visiting is fairly easy. The flights were ridiculously cheap: 50 euros round trip, absurd when you think about it. So there I went, on January 31st, boarding that plane. A metal tube meant to get me safely to my destination. I used to love flying; now, it mostly gives me claustrophobic thoughts. Greg came with me to the airport. Saying goodbye felt strange. I can’t even remember the last time we spent an entire day apart. People sometimes ask how we manage to be together all the time, but honestly, it doesn’t bother me. Maybe that’s a good sign? When I arrived in Málaga, I walked to the exit with a nervous feeling. And there they were: mom and Dirk. Because we video call often, seeing them again felt familiar, as if it had only been a week. We took the train to Fuengirola and I was curious about their apartment and how they lived there. It felt both strange and familiar at the same time, like stepping into a book whose beginning I knew but whose continuation was still unknown. That evening, we had dinner together and caught up. It felt good to have mom and Dirk close, though I did miss Greg. But traveling with two cats by plane? Impossible. Especially with one who’s afraid of the sound of an engine. During my stay, I had also booked a trip to the Caminito del Rey, a famous hiking trail through an impressive gorge. Once one of the most dangerous paths in the world, but since its renovation in 2015, it’s safe and accessible to tourists. The bus ride there took us past endless lemon and orange groves. The scent of ripe fruit filled the air and the sun painted the landscape golden yellow. Upon arrival, we were given helmets and followed the guide along the wooden path high above the river. The views were breathtaking and we even saw vultures soaring above the mountains. Sometimes, I paused, looked around, and tried to take it all in: the immense depth below me, the soft whisper of the wind through the gorge, the distant cliffs standing out against the bright blue sky. The guide shared interesting facts about the history and nature of the area. Would I do it again? Yes, but preferably alone or with Greg. Walking in a group isn’t for me; I want to take my time and not feel rushed. Some parts also felt overly touristy, especially when we ended up at various souvenir stalls and food stands. The magic faded a little at that moment.
 The days flew by: walking through Fuengirola, a trip to Málaga, and… getting sick. The flu got me, probably thanks to the cramped space on the plane or train full of people. Still, I tried to make the best of it and enjoyed the time with mom and Dirk. Walking through Fuengirola together was nice, but I had underestimated how busy and noisy it could be. The contrast with the peace of the boat suddenly became painfully clear. I realised that quietness is becoming increasingly important to me. 
Saying goodbye to my mom and Dirk was difficult. The knot in my stomach was there from the moment we woke up that morning. You never know how long it will be before you see each other again. Thankfully, video calling exists, but it’s just not the same. Our hug felt tighter than usual. With the flu still lingering, I boarded the return flight. For a moment, I was even afraid I’d miss my first flight, the crowds and waiting triggered a slight panic attack. My breathing sped up, my head spun for a second. But I recovered, kept going and focused on the moment I’d be home again. After two flights (with a layover in Barcelona) and two bus rides, I finally arrived in the bay of Alcudia. Just in time for sunset. The sky turned a stunning blend of pink and orange behind the mountains, a painting of colours melting into each other. And then I knew: this is home. The boat is home. Greg is home. The cats are home. I took a deep breath and felt the tension from the journey slowly fade away. And just like that, I felt so much better.

The new year starts off quietly. The water is like glass and the mornings feel incredibly peaceful. We soak up the early sun, cuddle with the cats on deck and take in the beauty around us. It’s the perfect slow start to the year. On January 3rd, we pick up our rental car, an absolute steal at €167 for 28 days. Gotta love the off-season. The next day, we head straight into the mountains for a road trip through the Serra de Tramuntana. The drive is stunning: winding hairpin bends, dramatic mountain views and scenic picnic spots (some even have barbecues). We end up in Sóller, a charming village tucked between the peaks. Over coffee and a pecan-caramel brownie, we take it all in before wandering through the streets. The following days are a mix of adventure and downtime. Strong winds keep us on board on the 5th and 6th, so we hunker down and make the most of it. Greg whips up French toast with homemade kiwi compote from our last Too Good To Go haul, topped with rum raisins and whipped cream. A small feast. By the 7th, the wind has settled and we’re itching to explore. We visit the Reserva Natural de s’Albufereta, which turns out to be smaller than expected but still beautiful, and then head to Pollensa. It’s strangely quiet, not quite the lively place we imagined, probably due to siesta time. On a whim, Greg sets the GPS for the Formentor lighthouse and wow, what a drive. More hairpin bends, breathtaking cliffs and a lot of curious goats. The next few days are a mix of practical errands and little adventures. We tackle dentist visits and laundry on the 9th, then set off on another road trip to Valldemossa and Deià. Two of the most picturesque villages I’ve ever seen. Think cobbled streets, stone houses and mountain views that look straight out of a painting. By the 11th, a storm is on the way, so we move into the marina. Perfect timing for some retail therapy. B. and I. tag along as we hit Decathlon and IKEA, where we go all-in on the Swedish meatballs. That night, the storm arrives in full force, howling winds and all. The second half of the month is a mix of sun, rain and everything in between. By the 16th, I’m fed up with the constant rocking of the boat. The swell makes even the simplest tasks annoying and the howling wind through the rigging drives me nuts. But a few days later, the sun returns and we head out for a long hike in Alcanada. Fresh air, green forests and mountain views, exactly what I needed. A few spontaneous trips follow. We plan to visit Fornalutx on the 21st but end up in Palma instead, wandering the streets and stopping for ramen at Shifu. The next day is a quiet one on board. I make pine balm from needles I gathered in December and Greg catches a fish for Finn. On the 23rd, something magical happens. As we sit inside, we suddenly hear the unmistakable sound of a dolphin surfacing right next to the boat. The sea is completely still, the sky full of stars and the moment feels almost surreal. On the 25th, we set sail across the bay, cruising at around 6 knots with a wind speed of 10-15 knots. After anchoring for the night, we return the next day to our “home bay”, Alcudia. Then comes the 27th. The day everything goes wrong. The wind is howling through the bay when I hear a loud whistling noise. I peek outside and see our neighbor L. frantically gesturing towards our friends’ boat. And then I see it. The mooring buoy is still attached to the boat, but it has snapped off, and she’s drifting straight towards the rocks. I shout for Greg, who jumps into the dinghy. I toss him his phone and he speeds off. L. picks up S. in his dinghy and they race to help. But before they can get there, it happens. The boat hits the rocks (or maybe the seabed, we’re still not sure). From our boat, I feel completely helpless as Greg and the others do everything they can to save her. He climbs on board, quickly starts the engine (thank god B. and I. explained how it works before leaving for their home country) and reverses out. Luckily, the boat doesn’t seem to be taking on water. The rescue is far from over. As they try to drop the anchor, it gets tangled in an octopus trap on the seabed. Meanwhile, S.’s boat also breaks free. L. and S. manage to secure her just in time. It’s complete chaos. Greg eventually frees the anchor from our friends’ boat and the plan is to keep her moving until B. arrives. He’s already on his way back, completely unaware of the full extent of the situation. When B. arrives, Greg guides the boat safely into the marina. My hero. I couldn’t be prouder of how he handled everything. And I’m beyond grateful for the sailing community. We may all be out here doing our own thing, but when things go wrong, everyone steps up. That night, I barely sleep. Every gust of wind puts me on edge and I keep an eye on our anchor alarm. One thing’s for sure, I’ll never fully trust a mooring buoy again. The last few days of January are calmer. We go on a beautiful hike near Coll Baix, soaking in the views and laughing at pushy goats trying to steal our lunch. On the 30th, I pack my bags. I’m heading to Fuengirola for ten days to visit my mom and stepdad. It feels strange leaving Greg, the cats and the boat behind. I can’t even remember the last time I spent a day without him. But I’m also looking forward to some quality time with my mom. On the 31st, we drive through pouring rain to return the rental car before I catch my flight to Málaga. It’s been a wild month. Peaceful mornings, terrifying storms, rainy days spent curled up inside and sunny adventures in the mountains. A month full of contrasts. Just like life at sea.

Hi everyone, Happy New Year! I hope the year is off to a great start for you all. I’m excited to share my latest YouTube video where we set sail to Cabrera, a small island just south of Mallorca. I’d love to hear your thoughts. Feel free to leave a comment, drop a like and subscribe if you enjoy it. Your support means a lot! Muchas gracias, The El Burro Crew

After sailing for two miles, we anchor in a bay that immediately puts us at ease. The scenery around us is like a picture postcard: golden beaches, towering mountains and lush nature all around. If only the hotels along the beach were gone, the view would be perfect. We lower the dinghy to explore the area and soon find ourselves in a cosy little café called Patagonia. Looking at the display, I spot them: cinnamon rolls. I've been craving them for ages! I couldn't be happier with my hot coffee and my sticky, sweet bun. Sometimes life really doesn't need to be any more complicated. It doesn't take long to realise that this place has everything we need. The anchorage is well protected and if the weather changes there's a nearby marina where we can find shelter and fill our water tanks. There's a large supermarket a short distance away, while the local cafes and bakeries feel like little hidden gems. The area is also perfect for adventurers, with beautiful walking trails just waiting to be explored. We're soon joined by Isabelle and Benjamin from Malou. They'd been at the marina for a while, but decided to anchor with us in the bay. In the evening they invite us for dinner on their boat and we spend the night swapping stories. It's as if we've known each other for ages, even though we've only recently met in Almerimar. The next morning we set off together on a 15 kilometer walk. The trail takes us from Alcudia to Alcanada and back, along the coast and through forests, with views that leave us speechless at every turn. The nature here is simply breathtaking. Tired but happy, we end the day at the Patagonia café, where we enjoy a hot chocolate and tea. Sunday mornings start with a visit to the market in Alcudia's old town. The square is bustling with stalls full of fresh produce and the whole town seems to be there. It's such a lively, welcoming atmosphere. Later we meet Alex, a friend we met earlier in Ibiza. He's heading home for Christmas and has big plans to travel around South America with his girlfriend. We share a drink and catch up. Christmas is a mixture of warmth and cosiness. On Christmas Eve, we enjoy a big dinner on board, followed by a film under the covers with the cats curled up beside us. On Christmas Day, Isabelle and Benjamin invite us over. With mulled wine in hand, a delicious lasagne on the table and a fun card game, it's like living in a small, perfect bubble. On the 29th of December, we set off on an 11.5 kilometre walk through the s'Albufera de Mallorca Nature Reserve. The park is a birdwatcher's paradise and we're amazed at the variety of birds we see along the way. December 31st is upon us, a day filled with parties and resolutions for many, but for me it's always a day of reflection. There's something melancholy about the last hours of the year. My mind wanders to all the wonderful moments of the past year, but also to the uncertainty of what lies ahead. It's as if I'm caught between the past and the future, unable to fully embrace the present moment. We keep the evening simple: a cheese fondue, a film and a peaceful time just the two of us and the cats. No fireworks, no big party, just a quiet and intimate way to end a special year. Alcudia has really stolen our hearts, especially with its blend of nature, tranquillity, adventure and friendship. Life here feels like a pause and that's what we've been longing for.

I’m feeling much better. My back and neck are still sore, but at least I can move again without feeling like a robot. Later, I discover a massive bruise on my back, that explains the pain, of course. The crossing to Alcanada went smoothly. I have to admit: Greg is the true hero of this story. He manages the boat entirely on his own. I feel pretty useless, but I do manage to look around now and then and even take the helm for a bit. Small victory! We drop anchor in an idyllic spot. The water is calm, the sunset feels like a dream, and for the first time in days, I feel a little more like myself again.

I fall asleep and only wake up when the anchor is dropped. The rest of the day, I feel completely drained. I just can’t function. I don’t even know which bay we’re in, and honestly, I don’t care. I just want to sleep, hoping I’ll feel better later. The aftermath of the painful yet soothing massage.

A challenging journey to Porto Cristo, but luckily the crossing takes only an hour. Checking in at the marina goes smoothly. In the evening, we have pizza. The next day, we explore the town and discover that Rafael Nadal lives here. That immediately explains the impressive Sunreef 80 catamaran docked right behind us. Charmed by the surroundings, we decide to stay longer. With bad weather on the way (strong winds and high waves), there’s no reason to rush. Fortunately, the marinas are a bit cheaper at the moment. The following day, we take out our bikes and head to the Via Verde, a 28-kilometer green route connecting Manacor and Artà. The hilly terrain is sometimes a challenge with our folding bikes, but it’s breathtakingly beautiful. The green Mallorcan countryside never ceases to amaze us. After four hours of cycling and 25 kilometers, we return to our boat tired but satisfied. The next day, we visit Manacor, just a 15-minute bus ride away. Unfortunately, after a few hours, I start to feel pain in my neck, arms and legs due to a pinched nerve. I feel so unwell that all I want is to return to the boat. I spend the rest of the day in bed with a heating pad and arnica cream on my sore neck, shoulders and arms. The day after that is laundry day. My neck and shoulders remain painful and tingling and my whole body feels heavy. Even holding a book is only manageable for a few minutes. I wonder what’s going on with my body. Is it the long bike ride or is something else at play? On Monday, I spend nearly the entire day in bed. Greg goes looking for a physiotherapist or osteopath and finds Laura, my guardian angel. She offers me an appointment first thing the next morning. On Tuesday morning, I lie on her massage table. She immediately identifies a series of painful knots and explains that my body is completely blocked. According to her, my body is constantly in defense mode due to unresolved emotional trauma. It makes sense, considering my difficult childhood, but I’m surprised by how strongly my body is reacting. I thought I’d been doing well lately. After the treatment, I feel empty and confused. While Greg prepares the boat for departure, I take a warm shower and try to process everything.

We had a smooth and relaxing journey to Mallorca. The original plan was to anchor in Portocolom, but Greg’s gut feeling suggested otherwise. Without hesitation, we decided to continue on to Es Fogons. You can’t ignore that kind of intuition. Portocolom could wait for another time. Along the way, we made good use of both the headsail and mainsail, and just before sunset, we dropped anchor. To our relief, Finn avoided seasickness for the third time in a row. In fact, he even sat calmly under the sprayhood when the engine started. Could his fear of the engine noise and tendency to get seasick finally be over? Our anchorage offered a rather curious view: on one side, an exotic Burger King and a few remarkably ugly hotels. But if you looked to the right and ignored the rest, it was actually quite beautiful. The next day, we set off to explore the large Carrefour hypermarket. On the way back, it started to rain and we both felt a bit weak. We spent the rest of the afternoon inside: sleeping a little, eating a little and doing nothing else. Just resting. During the night, the swell began to pick up, and by morning, it had only worsened. The forecast promised no relief: the wind would strengthen further in the afternoon and the waves would grow even higher. We decided not to take any chances and called the marina at Porto Cristo. Fortunately, they had space for us. We quickly raised the anchor, it was time to leave!

We wake up and immediately notice the strong swell. Time to lift the anchor. After a quick coffee, we start the engine, but it cuts out right away. Greg checks it and discovers there’s air in the engine, which is strange. Fortunately, we manage to start it again, but the uneasy feeling remains. The trip to Cabrera is quite tough. We have to sail 11 miles against the waves and occasionally water splashes over the boat. It’s not ideal, but at least we can sail. Finn is safely tucked in his box with a sweater over his little head, sleeping soundly. He hardly notices anything. When we take down the sails and try to start the engine, the problem happens again. The engine cuts out, and only after bleeding it do we get it running again. It reminds us of the time the engine had the same issue and we suspect it’s again the check valve causing the trouble. We had applied for a permit for Cabrera in advance and Greg reserved a buoy yesterday for 9.5 euros per night. As we enter the bay, the waves finally disappear, and I feel relieved that we are safely anchored. The engine problems, though, don’t give much peace of mind. After the stressful journey, we tidy up the boat, take a nap, and then head out to explore the island. We follow the trail to the lighthouse. It’s immediately apparent how well-marked the paths are and how neat the island is. The nature is, as expected, beautiful. The next day, we continue exploring the island. We walk to the (closed) museum, the botanical garden, and the castle. There’s a large picnic area with tables, so we enjoy our lunch there. Afterward, we take the dinghy to the Blue Cave, where, according to rumors, manta rays should be. Unfortunately, we don’t see any. The following day, we set out with our El Burro to a spot on the map where, according to the chart, sperm whales, dolphins and sharks are supposed to be. It’s a deeper area and a gathering spot for these animals because there’s supposed to be a lot of food. We sail for almost six hours, full of hope, only to see a big, vague splash, something that looks like a giant turd (sperm whale poop?), and the bow of a sunken boat floating by. No sea life to be seen. Nevertheless, it was a beautiful, sunny trip, and in the end, we sailed all the way around Cabrera. We moor the boat back to a buoy in the bay.

A calm day on the water. Greg had already started the engine while I was still in bed. He wanted to sail to the next bay, a journey of 22 miles. I quickly got dressed and took the helm as we left the bay. The wind stayed away, so we motorsailed for most of the trip. The sea was calm, without waves, and Finn and Nelly slept peacefully on the bed. Around three in the afternoon, we dropped anchor. The engine was running well, no oil leaks. So far so good. The next day, we went for a walk nearby and treated ourselves to ice cream. The following morning, we woke up to heavy swell. That could only mean one thing: time to lift the anchor and set off again.

Today was a rough journey. The sea was already restless with waves and the constant passing of ferries only made it worse. Comfort was hard to find. Finn lay curled up miserably on the bench in the cockpit but suddenly jumped onto my lap while I was steering. He burrowed under my arm, making it much harder to steer. Meanwhile, I struggled to stay upright to avoid ending up on the floor with Finn. Inside, Greg was busy too. He discovered a problem with the engine: oil everywhere! It was gushing out through the dipstick, so he was dealing with that chaos while I struggled with Finn outside. To make matters worse, Finn started smacking his lips, an unmistakable sign that he was about to vomit. There I was, on a rocking boat, trying to gently place Finn on the cockpit floor as he threw up, all while doing my best not to panic. Stress level: high. Then came the big question: do we turn back to Palma or push on to our anchorage? In the end, we chose the latter. Greg kept a close eye on the engine to ensure it wouldn’t suddenly give out. I was so relieved when we finally dropped anchor in a reasonably sheltered bay. Finally, some peace. Tomorrow we’ll figure out exactly what’s wrong with the engine. The next day, Greg examined the engine right away. To his surprise, he found nothing unusual. He cleaned up the spilled oil and concluded that the dipstick might not have been secured properly. With the waves, oil could have leaked out. The next journey will tell. Since the sun was shining, we decided to go geocaching. There were two caches nearby, which we found quickly. I left El Burro stickers in the caches for the next finder. Next time, I might leave a small treasure. I still have some beach finds on the boat. The following day, I, Julie, was still in bed when I heard Greg raising the anchor. Apparently, we were about to sail 22 miles. 😃

We woke up early. Finn always enjoys waking us up at sunrise. This time, it worked out well because we had planned to leave early to weigh anchor and sail to Palma. We quickly managed to unfurl the genoa, though the wind was quite gusty today. Around noon, we arrived in Palma. A marinero guided us to our spot in the Real Club Nàutico. Fortunately, the marina is much more affordable in the off-season. Checking in was smooth. For those unfamiliar with it: when checking into a marina, they usually ask for your boat’s documents (registration and insurance) and your ID. Outside of Europe, you also get a visit from customs, but within Europe, we’ve only occasionally experienced that while at anchor. The rest of the afternoon was spent doing laundry. We had a huge pile built up and were really looking forward to taking a hot shower afterward. Unfortunately, the water was cold, which was quite a disappointment. The next day was a practical day: more laundry, installing a new anchor chain and repairing the engine’s water pump. Our old anchor chain was rusty and kept jamming in the anchor locker, so it really needed replacing. The water pump’s seal was also leaking, so we took care of that as well. It was a productive day, and in the evening, we treated ourselves to a delicious Japanese meal at Buga Ramen. Friday was less eventful. We did some shopping and, in the evening, enjoyed a lovely walk through the narrow streets of beautiful Palma. On Saturday, we brought out the bikes and rode to a small Christmas market hosted by the Swedish church community. Afterward, we cycled further through the city, past the cathedral and through the center. In the evening, we went to see the Christmas lights’ opening ceremony, but it ended up being a bit underwhelming. It felt more like an overly drawn-out kids’ show. In the end, we decided to head back to the boat and save the actual lights for the next day. On Sunday, we took a bike ride to Castell de Bellver. This stunning castle, perched on a hill just outside the city center, was built in the 14th century by order of King Jaume II of Mallorca. It’s one of the few circular castles in Europe and has served as a royal residence, a prison and a military depot over the centuries. Today, it’s a museum where you can learn more about the history of Palma and Mallorca. The views from the hill over the city and bay are breathtaking. On Sundays, entry is free, which made it even better. In the evening, we went back to see the Christmas lights and this time we truly enjoyed the thousands of twinkling lights spread all over the city. On departure day, we squeezed in one last load of laundry, took out the trash and got some fuel for the dinghy. And to our great relief, we finally had hot showers! It may seem like a small thing, but it felt amazing to have a proper warm shower before setting off again.

It is calm as we pull the anchor up from the clear water and fine white sand. We hoist the genoa and sail at a leisurely two knots. When the wind picks up a bit, we decide to raise the mainsail as well. The sun is shining and the course is pleasant. After a while, we lower the sails and motor toward the bay. On one side, the view is less appealing, but the west side, with its cave and small beach, is stunning. The anchorage is completely empty and we drop the anchor into the white sand at a depth of about 7.5 meters. With some effort, we pull 40 meters of rusty chain out of the anchor locker, but then we’re securely anchored. Just in time, as a boat soon arrives, disturbing the calm with its waves. We think about how busy and chaotic this bay must be in the summer, but for now, it’s wonderfully peaceful. We row to shore with the dinghy. What a beautiful spot! Unfortunately, the silence is soon broken by a group of Germans who have arrived in a small motorboat and are loudly singing along to German music. Sigh… We walk to the cave and admire the beautiful inscriptions and carvings. History of the caves of Portals Vells: In the 15th century, a sailing ship was struck by a hurricane. The sails tore and the force of the waves broke the ship’s frame and mast. As the ship threatened to sink, the captain and crew made a vow to an image of the Virgin Mary, which was part of their cargo: if they safely reached the shore, they would build a chapel in her honor at the place where they landed. The storm subsided, and the wind brought the ship to the natural harbor of Portals Vells, where they sought refuge in one of the caves. There, they placed the Virgin’s image and carved an altar and inscriptions into the ground and walls. The image became a popular place of worship, especially for fishermen and sailors. At the end of the 15th century, an altar was added to the cave. This Renaissance-style altar, made by local craftsmen, has a simple and somewhat naïve appearance. It bears the coat of arms of the Rocafull family, who were the island’s governors at the time. Later, a small chapel was built in the left section of the cave to house the image. In 1863, the image was moved to the church of Portals Nous. The cave itself is artificial. According to legend, it was carved out by Moorish slaves after the Reconquista to mine limestone for the cathedral. However, archaeological excavations suggest that the caves were likely Phoenician tombs. A Phoenician ship from 600 BC was even found offshore. Incidentally, the cave smells a bit musty, probably due to too many campfires. The next day, we go on a breathtaking 8-kilometer hike. We’re continually amazed at how many walking trails are available in this area. The following day, Finn wakes us up at sunrise. We lift the anchor and trade nature for the big city.

We set off around noon, feeling optimistic, but it didn’t take long to realise this wasn’t going to be an easy trip. The sea was restless, with short, choppy waves that made the journey uncomfortable. To make matters worse, Finn wasn’t feeling well, which didn’t do much for the mood on board. And then there was the wind or rather, the lack of it. Sailing just wasn’t an option today. So, we decided to anchor in Santa Ponça and take a look around the town. Honestly, it was a bit disappointing. Apartment blocks everywhere, Irish pubs on every corner… It just didn’t have much character. That warm, Spanish charm we were hoping for? Nowhere to be found. The next day, though, Santa Ponça showed us a different side. We went for a walk and ended up in a lovely residential area, with lush gardens and impressive houses. From there, we wandered into a forest filled with winding paths, the kind of place where you can lose yourself in the best way. It was peaceful, almost magical, and every so often we’d come across a spot with breathtaking views. You just have to stop and take it all in, it’s impossible not to. And then, just when we thought we’d seen everything, a dolphin appeared in the bay. That moment made up for so much. What started as a disappointing stop turned into a place we’ll always remember fondly.

We had a great sail, though the trip turned out to be a bit longer than planned. What looked like 65 miles on the chart ended up being 80. Fortunately, the journey was relaxing, with a nice mix of sailing and using the engine. Not everything went smoothly, though: one rogue wave made Finn a bit seasick for a while. Otherwise, it was a calm crossing, with no dolphins or other marine life in sight. As we got closer to Mallorca, we started to see more and more branches and logs drifting past the boat. In Port d’Andratx, we found a safe spot to anchor. To make sure we were securely moored, Greg went into the water to attach us to a huge concrete block with a heavy chain. There was no way we’d drift away from here! The surroundings are stunning. The hills—or are they mountains?—are terraced with houses that seem to climb up the slopes. It might sound chaotic, but it actually has a unique charm. Especially at night, when the lights from the houses transform the hills into a giant Christmas tree. One day, we took the bus to Palma. Line 101 got us to the city center in an hour. Palma is always a delightful city to explore on foot and do a bit of shopping, though I realized I had surprisingly few memories of my previous visits. It felt like a mix of the familiar and the new. Over the weekend, Port d’Andratx hosted the Fira Marina Festival, a small outdoor boat show featuring a mix of nautical stalls and handmade crafts. It was fun to wander around, even though we left empty-handed in the end. We also went on a beautiful hike through the forests and Mallorcan countryside. Along the way, we passed some truly impressive villas, each one more luxurious than the last. We ended the day with dinner at Umami, highly recommended! The highlight of the week was seeing ourselves in the Gazet van Antwerpen. It felt surreal to see our photo and story on their website, but it was also incredibly exciting. It made us pause and appreciate how far we’ve come as a couple. One day, it rained heavily, which brought a certain calmness. Greg took the opportunity to collect rainwater while I stayed cozy indoors. On our last day, we walked to the village of Andratx. The cemetery there is definitely worth a visit. Peaceful, beautifully maintained and serene. After spending over a week in Port d’Andratx, it was time to move on. We cast off and headed to the next bay. Our time here was wonderful, filled with special moments, but as always, we’re excited to see what lies ahead.

When we pulled up the anchor at Punta Roja, something very special happened: there was an octopus attached to it! The little creature was probably just as surprised as we were, because it quickly released the anchor and disappeared back into the depths. After this unusual discovery, we decided to sail around Es Vedra. It was a beautiful journey and after a few hours of sailing (with the parasailor), we dropped the anchor in Sant Antoni de Portmany. The anchoring itself turned out to be a bit more challenging than we had hoped. After five attempts, we finally managed to get the anchor properly set into the ground. Sometimes, you just have to be patient, right?
 The next morning began with thunderstorms. The lightning struck so close that the thunder seemed to vibrate through the boat. Luckily, it passed quickly and the rest of the day was spent lounging on board. I did some painting and in the late afternoon, Caetlin and Ben from Sailing Donna came over to enjoy the pumpkin soup that Greg had made. After eating, we hopped in the dinghy to grab an ice cream in the town and do some shopping at Mercadona. We ended the evening with tapas on board and a few rounds of board games. The next morning, we had churros with chocolate, the perfect breakfast for a lazy day. While I watched a movie (Lord of the Rings), Greg went fishing with Ben. In the evening, the wind began to pick up and we decided to head into the harbor the following day. After a lovely warm shower, I took a walk into town to buy some flowers. The scent on the boat was wonderful. After a quick stop at Burger King and a brief visit to Lidl, we had a cozy evening on board. The next day, I wasn't feeling great. My muscles were sore and I was incredibly tired, so I spent most of the day sleeping.
 The following day, we decided to move to another bay, but the waves were too high and there was still a lot of swell. So, we returned to Sant Antoni. That evening, while we were having a drink on Donna's boat, we suddenly heard a loud bang. A small trimaran had crashed into our anchored boat! Fortunately, the damage was minor, just a few scratches on the bow. Finn was quite startled, but everything else was fine. We ended the evening with more board games on our boat, joined by Caetlin and Ben.
 The next day, we went on an octopus search in the bay. Thanks to Ben, I managed to spot an octopus slowly moving along the bottom. Later, Greg went with Ben to Lidl, and when he returned, he told me that there was another octopus by the dinghy dock. Of course, we went to check it out. It was amazing to see the creature up close and the feeling of its tentacles brushing against my finger was strange! There was a brief moment of panic when the octopus wrapped itself around my GoPro and started climbing upwards. It had far more strength than I had expected. After the adventure, it was time to do some more painting in the cockpit, a perfect moment of relaxation. Later, we video-called some friends and watched the Halloween movie Beetlejuice.
 The next morning, there was heavy rain, giving me the perfect excuse to stay inside and relax. Greg went over to visit the neighbors, while I enjoyed some plum cake, tea and a good book on board. After a few days together, it was time to say goodbye to Caetlin and Ben, who were heading to Valencia for the winter. After the farewell, Greg and I took a 6 km walk to the market through the beautiful Ibiza countryside. The market wasn't very big, but it was nice to get outside for a bit. We had stayed in Sant Antoni so long that it's hard to pinpoint when exactly everything happened, but we also spent a day doing chores on board and took the bus to Ibiza Old Town to wander around and check out some shops. On our last day, we departed in the late afternoon towards Mallorca, ready for the next adventure.

Es Vedra had been on our list for a while. This impressive, mysterious rock formation off the coast of Ibiza is a must-see. It was a beautiful, calm day when we sailed past it. According to the stories, Es Vedra is one of the most magnetic places on Earth, similar to the Bermuda Triangle. Fishermen and sailors often talk about compass malfunctions and strange light phenomena around the rock. However, we didn’t experience any of that. No issues with our autopilot or compass, just the imposing sight of the rock standing tall above the sea. After passing Es Vedra and dropping anchor, we took the dinghy to another special place: “Atlantis.” The real name is Sa Pedrera de Cala d’Hort, an old quarry where stones for the city walls of Ibiza were once carved. Today, it’s a surreal landscape of eroded rocks, natural pools and art installations. Everywhere you look, there are symbols and figures carved into the rocks, left by artists and travelers who were clearly inspired by the atmosphere. The name “Atlantis” fits perfectly; it feels like discovering a hidden, forgotten city. When we returned to the boat, the sky began to change colors. The sun sank behind Es Vedra and the entire sky turned warm shades of orange and pink. The rock stood out as a silhouette against the light. Everything was still, with only the sound of the water gently lapping against the boat. In the evening, we stopped by to visit our neighbors, Caetlin and Ben from Sailing Donna. Afterward, I grabbed a flashlight and together with Finn, went looking for fish in the water from our boat. It’s fascinating how, in the pitch-dark water, a single beam of light can reveal so much life. Finn was absolutely in his element. That night, it was pitch black. No light pollution, no sounds, just nature around us. After such a day full of beautiful spots and little adventures, I crawled into bed, tired but happy. This was one of those days you won’t soon forget.

We pulled up the anchor in Sant Antoni de Portmany and set off. The first few hours were quite rough. The waves caused the boat to roll heavily and Finn got pretty seasick. It’s always tough for him, but he, and especially we, have learned to manage it by now. Fortunately, once we rounded the corner, the sea calmed down considerably. On the AIS, we suddenly spotted Sailing Donna (Caetlin and Ben) in the distance. What a pleasant coincidence that we eventually entered the same bay together. Running into familiar faces on the water is always a special moment. Once we reached our spot, we dropped anchor and prepared something to eat. But just as we were about to relax, we heard a strange sound coming from under the boat. The anchor chain had wrapped around a rock. That called for re-anchoring. With our anchor securely repositioned, it began to rain. Surprisingly, we didn’t mind at all. Rain on the deck always has something soothing about it. It was the perfect time for an afternoon nap. Later that evening, we stopped by Caetlin and Ben’s boat for a quick chat. Catching up was a lovely way to end the day. The next morning, we started the day with breakfast on board, joined by Caetlin and Ben. Afterward, we took the dinghy and went exploring a nearby cave. It was dark and mysterious inside, while the sky outside grew increasingly ominous. Fortunately, the rain held off. That evening, Caetlin and Ben came over to our boat and we spent the night playing board games together. It was a fun and cozy end to the day!

During our journey to Benirràs, we unexpectedly found ourselves in the middle of a regatta. As we maneuvered between the boats, we did our best to stay clear of the race's path. Eventually, we found a beautiful anchorage in the bay of Benirràs, surrounded by rocks and beautiful nature. We took the dinghy to explore the beach, visited the hippy market and then relaxed on our boat. At sunset, groups of drummers gathered on the shore, equipped with djembés and various other percussion instruments. Their rhythmic beats filled the air, and it felt as if the entire bay was swaying to the music. Since there were still many empty buoys in the bay, we decided to tie our stern to one of them for extra stability. The next day, we went to the beach, determined to experience the drummers up close, but this time the beach was quiet. Instead, we enjoyed a delicious pizza as the sun slowly set. No drummers this time, just the sounds of the sea, the gentle breeze rustling through the trees… and the music from the various beach bars.

We had planned to sail straight to Benirràs, but along the way, we came across a stunning, almost magical bay. Without much hesitation, we dropped anchor and decided to spend the day there. We didn’t do much: just some swimming, relaxing on the boat and soaking in the peaceful surroundings. In the evening, we watched the livestream of the Cruisers Awards on YouTube. Unfortunately, we didn’t win the award for Best Instagram, but we were still proud to have made it to the finals among so many other great sailing accounts. The next morning, we took a short trip with the dinghy around the bay before lifting anchor and finally heading towards Benirràs.

The wind is strong and gives us a good push, allowing us to regularly reach 6 knots. At each waypoint, the wind shifts, so we have to keep gybing to stay on course. The waves are high, but since they’re coming from behind, the sailing remains pleasant. The scenery is beautiful. We sail past small, secluded coves that feel like peaceful oases hidden in the landscape. As we enjoy the view, we start complaining about the lack of dolphins. But right at that moment, one appears next to the boat. To our surprise, it completely ignores us and happily swims off to greet a jet ski. After a while, we decide to head towards Cala Aigües Blanques. In the distance, we see a few small beaches, rock formations and tree-covered mountains. We pick a nice spot and drop the anchor in about six meters of water. There’s plenty of space and the anchor holds well. Our plan is to stay here for a few days and relax. With a stocked fridge, full water tanks and a clean boat, we’re all set. The next morning, Greg dives under the boat and notices we’re uncomfortably close to an underwater rock. There’s only about a meter of water between the keel and the rock! Without hesitation, we pull up the anchor and move to a spot with just sand, far from any unexpected obstacles. And what do we do during our time here? We relax on the beach, take a beautiful 10-kilometer hike starting from Sant Vincent and later enjoy a delicious meal at The Boat House. The highlight is an amazing bonfire night on the beach with a few fellow sailors. It’s moments like these that make the adventure unforgettable.

The waves in Talamanca Bay are difficult. Greg calls the marina in Eulalia and, to our surprise, there's still a berth available. But it's for a 12 metre boat, which makes it a bit more expensive. As we urgently need to fill our water tank, we don't hesitate to tell them we'll be there in two hours. We raise the anchor and set off. I steer the boat carefully out of the bay as there are many shallow areas and hidden rocks just below the surface. Once we're out of the bay, we raise the Genoa. Arriving at the marina, we lay out the fenders and mooring lines, start the engine and roll in the genoa again. We call the marinero, who speaks little English, but uses hand gestures to show us clearly where to moor. We then go to the marina office to check in, but it's closed and the marinero is nowhere to be found. After wandering around the marina for over an hour, we finally manage to check in and get the key to the toilets. We meet our neighbours and end the evening with a stroll around the cosy, touristy town. The next morning we take the opportunity to give the boat a thorough clean, both inside and out, and to fill our water tanks completely. Despite the strong wind, we manage to leave the berth without any problems with the help of our neighbours.

The crossing between Ibiza and Formentera began as quite a bumpy ride. The sea was restless, filled with boats and speeding ferries that created significant waves. It was a jolting journey, but we managed to navigate through the chaos without any problems. Unfortunately, there was still an annoying swell coming from the east, causing us to roll back and forth constantly. The prospect of experiencing the same rocking in the anchorage wasn't exactly inviting. Once we arrived in the bay, it turned out to be quite crowded with boats. We had to search for a suitable spot free of posidonia. Thankfully, the Donia app helped us find a larger, slightly deeper sandy area. After anchoring, Greg suddenly felt unwell; a stubborn virus had taken hold of him, so he crawled into bed, completely exhausted. That evening, we decided to take the dinghy to shore, armed with our trusty trolley. Off to the Mercadona we went! After a long walk of 2.5 kilometers, we hauled a full cart of groceries back to the boat. Our pantry was finally well-stocked again. The next morning was spent at a laundromat, something we desperately needed. It had been almost a month since we last did laundry and the pile of dirty clothes was enormous. While the machines ran, we enjoyed some snacks and drinks. Later that afternoon, thanks to a tip from other sailors, we found a water tap nearby. With our containers, we managed to get 40 liters of water into the tank, which was crucial because it had been nearly empty after a month. The weather forecast looked less promising, predicting strong winds of nearly 40 knots. Greg was still sick, so I decided to take the night watch. The wind started to pick up during the night, and while I stayed alert, I suddenly noticed a catamaran next to us breaking free from its anchor. Fortunately, the owner started the motor just in time, preventing a collision with another catamaran. I stayed vigilant until around 4 AM, after which Greg took over. Thankfully, the wind had calmed down by morning. Greg, completely worn out, took a nap that lasted nearly 36 hours. I wasn't sure if you could still call that a nap. Two days later, something unexpected happened. While I was still half-asleep, I suddenly heard Greg calling in a panic, "Come quick!" I jumped out of bed and rushed outside. There, behind our swimming ladder, I saw a black dog struggling in the water. Without thinking, I ran to the ladder and pulled the dog, Pampa, out of the water. We set her in the cockpit, where she immediately shook herself off, giving us a good salty shower. She was clearly exhausted but happy to be rescued. Eventually, we managed to reach her owner, who was incredibly relieved and grateful. As a thank-you, we even received a bottle of wine and croissants. By noon, we visited the old town of Ibiza, Dalt Vila. It was beautiful and charming, with a photogenic alley around every corner. We walked all the way around the city walls and then discovered a less touristy part of town. At Dakuma Ramen, we found a fantastic lunch menu and enjoyed a delicious meal. That evening, we stopped by to see our neighbors from the boat Just Go. Pampa, the dog we rescued, greeted us with enthusiasm. We had a wonderful evening together, filled with good conversations. The next day, Greg called the harbor in Eulalia and to our surprise, they still had a spot for us. We raised anchor and set course for our next destination.

On Sunday, it was far too crowded to anchor close to the beach. The bays were packed with boats, music and people everywhere. But now, on Monday, the atmosphere is completely different. The water is calm and the weekend crowds seem to have disappeared. This is the perfect time to move closer to the shore, so we reposition ourselves. We drop the anchor into five meters of crystal-clear water and let out thirty meters of chain. Taking the dinghy to the beach, we park it and get ready for a peaceful sunset walk. The golden light casts a glow over the rocks, the beach, and the sea, everything is bathed in warmth. This place is simply breathtaking!

There isn’t much to report about this trip. We used the spinnaker pole, which went smoothly, but suddenly noticed that the rear bracket attaching it to the railing is broken. Not ideal, so we’ll either have to get it welded or come up with a solution ourselves. A job for later. Since it’s Sunday, the bays are crowded with boats and there’s loud dance music everywhere. It’s busy, but still has a lively vibe. The most important thing: we’ve completed our circumnavigation of Formentera!

I was happily playing on deck when suddenly that annoying engine started up again. Ugh! Without anyone noticing, I quickly slipped inside. At least it’s quiet in there. I heard the anchor rattling and the sail being rolled out, but the only thing that really caught my attention was the delicious smell coming from the oven. Bread! It smelled so good that I almost forgot how irritating the engine’s noise was. The sun felt nice through the windows and it seemed like everyone was content. The sea was calm, the view was beautiful and even that other cat wasn’t being a nuisance. But things only got interesting when they pulled a bonito out of the water. Fresh food! Then things really started to get exciting. The waves grew larger and larger, real giants that rocked the boat back and forth. Normally, I’d hide, but as soon as I caught the smell of fresh fish, all my fear disappeared. I jumped around Greg’s legs, ready for the little bites he was cutting up. Those pieces of fish… hmm, you can always make me happy with that! But then… yep, the waves got even higher. So high that the boat was tossed all over the place. Suddenly, it wasn’t fun anymore. I crawled into a corner and hoped it would all be over soon. Luckily, after what felt like forever, we reached the anchorage. As soon as the anchor dropped, I dared to come outside again. I immediately went to my favorite spot in the cockpit, on the port side. I love hanging my paws over the edge there, just watching and enjoying the view. But apparently, they still thought the waves were too dangerous, because before I knew it, I was put back inside. Tsss, I can handle myself just fine! The next day, my humans had a different plan. They went to the beach! Normally, I prefer to stay close to them, but this time I was totally okay with staying on the boat. I watched as they packed the parasol, chairs and some books into the dinghy and sailed off. While they went to the beach for a relaxing afternoon, Nelly and I had the boat all to ourselves. Perfect for some uninterrupted napping.

We slowly move a few miles to the next village. The wind is blowing briskly around us, with gusts regularly reaching 25 knots. Despite the strong wind, it’s a comfortable journey. Once we arrive, we make a quick dinghy ride to the village. We need to dispose of the trash bags and buy an overpriced pack of butter and a few bottles of water (10 euros!). After this brief expedition, we enjoy a peaceful night, but when morning breaks, we wake up to a different reality. The waves are quite unpleasant and the boat rocks back and forth. Therefore, we decide to sail a few miles east, where the sea is calmer. Before we continue our journey to the next anchor bay, there’s still time for a short nap.

(NL blog - naar beneden scrollen) The predicted storm turns out to be nothing more than a heavy rain shower, so we set course for Formentera again. The route between Ibiza and Formentera is, as always, busy with ferries constantly going back and forth. It requires focused steering and careful attention. I cast the fishing line, and to my surprise, we get a bite immediately. Unfortunately, the fish gets stuck behind our dinghy, and we lose it. The next two times, we’re luckier and catch two nice mackerel, which go straight on the barbecue that evening as soon as we arrive at the anchorage in Es Pujols. The next day, Isa, Ben, and their crew, Bilge and Marco, join us in the bay. They are sailing on their boat Malou, which we got to know in Almerimar. We take an evening walk and end the day on their boat. It’s a pleasant evening with delicious food and great company. A few days later, we rent an electric scooter to explore more of Formentera. We wander through the charming shopping streets of Sant Francesc Xavier, the island's capital, and stop for fresh churros in San Ferran de ses Roques. After that, we head to La Mola, one of Formentera’s picturesque lighthouses. After our scooter adventure, we pick up roast chicken, fries, and applesauce to round off the day. The next morning, we lift the anchor and sail to a new bay, ready for the next adventure.

The next bay (Racó des Berro) is just as busy as the last one, but the vibe has shifted. The wind has picked up a bit, and clouds are rolling in, making everything feel a bit less perfect. What really adds to the uneasy atmosphere are the boats still stranded on the shore and against the rocks, left there by the storm on August 14th. For those who don’t know, a massive storm hit here last month, with winds over 60 knots, and it blew several boats onto land, causing a lot of damage. We jump into our dinghy to get a closer look at the wrecks. On one side is this massive racing yacht and on the other, a charming little wooden boat flying a Belgian flag. Both boats are taking on water, it’s a pretty sad sight. The next day, after a nice walk around the island and through the town of La Savina, we decide to check the weather forecast. That’s when Greg spots something that makes us both freeze: another storm is coming. They’re predicting winds over 60 knots again, plus heavy thunderstorms. Shit… Now we’re stuck, unsure of what to do. We’re not in the safest spot, but the anchor is holding well enough. Still, the sight of those beached boats from the last storm isn’t exactly comforting. We start running through our options: do we stay and hope for the best? Move to a more sheltered bay? Head into a marina? Or do we sail out to open water and try to ride out the storm there? We’ve got one more night to figure it out since the ‘megastorm’ is expected the next day. But even by morning, we’re still unsure. In the end, we decide to pull up the anchor and move to a more sheltered bay, even though we’re not really sure if it’s the best move. At this point, we just have to trust our instincts and hope we’ve made the right call.

After a week, it’s time to leave Torrevieja behind. We’re yearning for something wilder, more alive. We crave the open embrace of nature, the shimmer of blue water and a taste of the tropics, far away from the crowded skyline. With hearts full of anticipation, we set sail for Formentera, the “Caribbean of the Mediterranean”. Even Google whispers promises of what awaits us: crystal-clear waters, endless stretches of white sand, dunes and pine forests swaying in the breeze. It’s exactly what we’re longing for. But before we reach this paradise, we have a night of sailing ahead. As we leave Torrevieja behind, the waves are still wild, towering around us. But as the shore grows smaller in the distance, the sea softens. We hoist the sail, catching the wind and chart our course straight north east. The sunset is breathtaking in its simplicity. As the light fades, a crackle on the radio catches our attention: there’s an abandoned boat adrift nearby. We jot down the coordinates and realize it’s less than five miles away. As my night shift begins, I find myself more alert than usual, eyes scanning the dark waters. The night is calm. There’s little traffic, just the occasional distant silhouette of a container ship or ferry passing by. I drift in and out of twenty-minute naps, reading a bit, watching a show here and there, ... When the first light of dawn appears, I step outside and there it is: Ibiza on the horizon, with the majestic peak of Es Vedra, and the soft outline of Formentera. The sea is perfectly still, like a mirror. For a moment, it’s hard to tell where the water ends and the sky begins. And then, Formentera takes our breath away. The wind has disappeared, leaving the water so clear with a shade of blue that I’ve never seen before. It feels like we’ve sailed straight into a dream. The bay is busy, with yachts of every shape and size, but there’s a certain harmony to it all. Everyone seems at ease, floating in this peaceful bubble. A tiny boat weaves between us, delivering paella to the other boats or ferrying people to a restaurant onshore. In the distance, there’s a sign telling us we can call the restaurant over the radio, on VHF channel 72. We waste no time diving into the water and immediately, we’re surrounded by dozens of curious little fish. I’ve never seen water this clear, this blue, in all my life. It’s easy to understand why people fall in love with Formentera. And that evening, as if the day hadn’t already given us enough, the sky offers one last gift. The sunset is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The sky seems to ignite, burning with reds and oranges, then softening into cotton-candy pinks. Everyone around us is mesmerized, standing in silence as the sky transforms. Even Finn, normally so full of energy, sits quietly, watching it all unfold. In the days that follow, we walk along the shore, swim in the clearest waters and lose ourselves in the rhythm of the island. But eventually, the pull of the next adventure calls to us. The sky has turned a little cloudier now, but nothing can dim the joy that Formentera has given us. Time to explore the next bay.

After a few days anchored and docked in Almerimar, we’re really enjoying being back on open water even though we do miss our new friends. We’ve officially shelved our ocean adventure for this year and are heading east toward the Balearics. The weather’s perfect, so we decide to skip the nearby anchorages and sail straight to Torrevieja. What was supposed to be a three-hour trip turns into a two-day journey. Torrevieja has a sheltered bay where we can wait for a good weather window to continue to Formentera. We let the windvane steer the boat, get the grab bag and life jackets ready and lock the fridge. The waves are getting a bit bigger, making the boat roll. By sunset, the waves are even higher and coming more from behind. With the wind blowing at 20 to 25 knots, we’re moving faster and the boat is handling the waves better, though sleeping is still tough. The next day is overcast and it starts raining. We’re tired, but the boat is still on track. When the wind dies down and the sails are struggling, we start the engine. At sunset, we’re joined by a group of Risso’s dolphins with their unique scars and blunt heads. At night, we see lightning in the distance and the rain picks up. The wind increases to over 25 knots. I’m in the middle of watching “The Mist” and quickly move inside. After about an hour, the wind drops and we have to start the engine again. In the morning, dolphins greet us at the bow. The sea is calm and the sun is trying to break through the clouds. There’s plenty of space in Torrevieja’s harbour, so we anchor in about six meters of water. Torrevieja isn’t the most scenic place, but we’re well sheltered here. After a few days, we think our anchor is secure—until the boat behind us starts coming alarmingly close. The owners tell us our anchor is dragging. We start the engine, move to a new spot and let out more chain just to be safe. Isabelle from Malou is also here and we invite her over for dinner. A few days later, she gives us wingsurfing lessons and we have a great evening with delicious food and good company. The next day, we set off for Formentera. After a week in Torrevieja, it’s time to get back to nature.

There is nothing like the feeling of a new adventure, especially when that adventure takes you to a country just around the corner, yet feels so different. This is how our journey began, crossing the border on foot from Melilla to Morocco. The transition went surprisingly smoothly. No long waits or complicated procedures; suddenly, we found ourselves on the other side, in a completely different country. The contrast was immediately noticeable and palpable. While we crossed the border with little difficulty, we saw on the other side a long line of people trying to reach Spain. The queue of cars seemed endless, and patience was clearly a requirement. Dozens of Moroccan flags fluttered in the wind, as if welcoming us. Next to us, men were sitting on terraces, enjoying their mint tea, watching the spectacle at the border with a mix of curiosity and everyday routine. And there we were, in Morocco, with a sense of excitement and a touch of wonder. We were warmly greeted. Not just by the border officer who stamped our passports, but also by the people we encountered. "Bienvenue au Maroc!" was said to us several times. I think we were quite a noticeable trio, as a Swede and two Belgians. But the warmth with which we were received immediately made us feel at ease. After a brief exploration in Beni Ansar, we decided to take a taxi to the larger city of Nador. Finding a taxi was no problem; they are plentiful, and luckily most Moroccans speak French, which made communication very easy. For just six euros, we got a one-way trip to Nador. In Nador, we were dropped off by our taxi driver and realized that we actually hadn’t planned anything for our visit. But that didn’t matter. We let ourselves be guided by the moment, wandered around, and quickly found a cozy spot to have breakfast. It was a typical Moroccan breakfast: Harcha, a crumbly bread made from semolina, msemmen, which resembles very thin pancakes, yogurt, orange juice, and of course, mint tea. The perfect start to our Moroccan adventure. By the way, we also gained an hour since we were in a different time zone. After breakfast, we continued our exploration. Nador is a city full of life, where street vendors offer their goods and the streets are filled with a lively chaos. It was busy, but that hustle and bustle had its charm. We fully enjoyed the atmosphere, exchanged our euros for dirhams, and let ourselves be carried away by the liveliness of the city. At one point, we hailed another taxi, this time with a vaguer plan: we wanted to go to a mountain where there were supposed to be monkeys. We asked the driver to take us to Gourgou, not being 100% sure if it was the right mountain. For ten euros, he was willing to take us, although he found the destination vague. It soon became clear that the distance was greater than expected, and he had a lot of phone calls with his boss. In the end, we agreed on thirty euros, for which the driver would take us further up the mountain and stay with us while we went for a walk. On the mountain, we passed a checkpoint where we asked some soldiers if there were any monkeys around. And yes, we were on the right mountain! They pointed us in the right direction and asked in amazement if we had come on foot. We let them know we had come by taxi. We walked back to our driver and got into his car. Finally, after some detours, we encountered the monkeys. A stall was selling peanuts, but the monkeys seemed more interested in the cake that others were giving them. We stayed for a while, enjoyed the moment, and then asked our driver if he could take us back to Beni Ansar. The drive back was breathtaking. Mist crept over the winding mountain roads, giving the landscape a mysterious atmosphere. When we arrived at the border, we decided to enjoy one more mint tea on a terrace, like the locals do, while observing the spectacle of the border crossing. But soon we noticed that the line at the border was getting longer. Time to join the queue. What followed was a four-hour wait in the hot sun, with no access to a toilet. The mood among the waiters grew increasingly grim, and the heat didn’t help. Yet conversations arose, and we saw people taking care of each other despite the discomforts. Eventually, we passed through border control and suddenly found ourselves back in Spain, as if our adventure in Morocco had been just a dream. But what a dream: a day full of twists and turns, something we won’t soon forget. It was my third time visiting Morocco. It continues to enchant me, every time again.

I get out of bed and immediately start tidying up and organizing the boat. Outside, Greg is already busy with the final preparations for our departure. Traveling by boat means making sure that everything is secure and that nothing can fall over during the trip. The dishes need to be done, the table cleared, and loose items stowed away. Additionally, we need to remove the mainsail cover, check the rigging and engine, plan the navigation, check the weather and ensure there are no lines left in the water. Around noon, Greg picks up Peter. We hoist the outboard motor and dinghy on board and then we're ready to set off. Ahead of us is a 90-mile journey to Africa, a new continent. Our destination is Melilla, which is still part of Europe. It will be a night crossing, something we haven't done since Mallorca to Valencia. We raise the anchor and, after a few minutes, set the mainsail and jib. The engine goes off. The sailing conditions are perfect. Peter has a big smile on his face; it’s been a while since he was on the open sea. His engine is broken, so he’s been stuck in Almerimar for months. Along the way, we see dozens of striped dolphins hunting. We try fishing too, but without success. We decide to sail without a watch schedule, which in hindsight wasn't a good idea. The irregular sleep leaves us constantly tired. During my night watch, I'm quietly reading when I suddenly hear a noise. Something is swimming behind our boat! I hear the sound of a blowhole opening and closing, a kind of "pppshoooew". I look at the stern of the boat and see a fin diving under us. In my head, I think, "This is it, orcas!" I wake Greg up and tell him something big is swimming behind our boat. We grab the flashlight and wait for them to reappear. At the next splash, we shine the light and discover it’s 'just' dolphins. My heart races for a few more minutes. The wind dies down, we start the engine and Greg crawls back into bed. The many ferries heading to Morocco or Melilla also make my heart race at times. On the AIS, I see a ferry set to pass just 10 meters away. "10 meters, that's a boat length!" I wake Greg again (poor Greg). The lack of sleep makes it hard for me to think clearly and make decisions. We change our course and luckily manage to avoid the enormous vessel. At sunrise, we can see land on the horizon. It's a strange feeling to approach a new continent. Along the way, we make a detour to save a floating, inflatable giraffe from drowning. Welcome to Africa! Our phone struggles to determine the time zone, causing some confusion. It frequently switches to Moroccan time, an hour earlier, while in Melilla it’s Spanish time. By noon, we arrive in Melilla, where we are warmly welcomed by the marineros. We immediately notice the large police and Guardia Civil presence. Melilla, a Spanish enclave on the north coast of Africa, borders Morocco and is often in the news due to migration issues. Many migrants try to scale the high fences surrounding the city to enter the European Union. This is why security here is so tight. Melilla is an autonomous city with a special status within Spain, similar to an autonomous region. The population is roughly half Spanish or European, while the other half is mostly Moroccan Muslims. There are also Jewish and Hindu communities. The cultural mix makes it special to walk around Melilla. It feels like Spain, but the Moroccan influences are so strong that you immediately realize you’re not really in Europe anymore. It’s hard to describe; you have to experience it yourself. The city itself is beautiful! Lots of art deco architecture, lovely beaches, and incredibly friendly people. And it’s cheap too. We pay only 5 euros per night for our berth in the harbor, diesel costs 1.10 euros per liter and Melilla is tax-free. The beach is amusing as well. There are signs everywhere prohibiting music, smoking, and jumping off the rocks, but these rules seem more like suggestions. People jump off the rocks, smoke on the beach and music plays in the background. We are surprised by how few tourists are here. Sometimes it feels like we’re the only ones... So peaceful! We visit a few museums, marvel at exotic plants and admire the architecture and splendor of the old city. Would I recommend Melilla as a vacation destination? Absolutely! One last tidbit: Nelly, our cat, finally figured out how to jump off the boat. Luckily, we caught her not far from the boat with the help of some treats. We’ll need to be extra vigilant when docked in the future. Oh, and yes, we crossed the border into Morocco. But that story deserves its own blog!

Almerimar had been on our radar for a while. Not because it's a spectacular destination, but because our friend Peter is there with his boat, Pinoseed. The journey to Almerimar is, to say the least, unique. The tall buildings give way to endless greenhouses. Just look it up and you'll be amazed. Greenhouses everywhere! Every piece of land is covered in glass—impressive and ugly at the same time. Just before reaching the harbor entrance, we call the harbor office on VHF channel 9. We’re instructed to moor at the office itself, where a marinero is already waiting to catch our lines. Time to check in. Before we’re even properly docked in our berth, we see Peter approaching. The reunion is warm and we decide to head to a local tapas bar where we get delicious snacks with our drinks for just 50 cents. That evening, we invite Peter for pizza on our boat, exchanging many stories. The last time we saw each other was in Port Napoleon, when Pinoseed reached the Mediterranean and we awaited him at the final lock on the Rhône. That’s how we met—on the canals of France. Evenings in Almerimar are enjoyable, not just with Peter, but also with new friends we've made, like Manon and Stephen from Kekilistrion and Melina and Artur from Propina. One evening, we play board games on Propina, and the next, we have burgers on the beach, sharing stories and knowledge. In our final days in Almerimar, we anchor out and decide to sail to Melilla. Peter decides to join us on our boat and so we prepare for a 90-mile journey to a new continent... Africa!

There’s just enough wind to sail but the countercurrent slows our progress. Fortunately, the sea is calm and the weather is pleasant. As we approach the cape near Almería, we expect the waves and current to decrease closer to the coast. With gusts now reaching over twenty knots, we reduce the genoa. Along the way, three large dolphins swim under the boat—a special moment. For the final stretch, we switch to the engine which also benefits the battery. With only eight knots of wind and a destination directly upwind, we enjoy a peaceful cruise along the coast. Upon arrival, we find a suitable anchorage but the anchor doesn’t hold at first. After a second attempt, it sets firmly. We take the dinghy to the harbor for some chores and shopping. Upon our return, we are approached because we had docked our dinghy without permission, raising questions about how we will visit the town the next day. Later that evening, around 11:00 PM, we are visited by customs in a rubber dinghy. They quickly board and ask for our papers. As soon as Finn, our cat, appears, the mood changes immediately. The customs officer even goes inside to see our other cat, Nelly. They ask a few more questions, fill out some paperwork, and then leave. Another unique experience. The next day, we briefly consider swimming to the beach with a waterproof bag to explore the area, but we ultimately decide against it. Instead, we relax and clean the bottom of the boat. We read with amazement about the DANA in Formentera and feel sad for the stranded boats, prompting us to take the wind and rain warnings in this area more seriously. We bring the dinghy onto the deck and store the solar panel as it begins to rain. Although it initially seems like just a few drops, the wind suddenly picks up to 30 knots. We let out extra chain and deploy the storm snubber, keeping a close eye on the wind gauge. Though the wind gradually decreases, the waves remain rough, making for a restless night. Today, we plan to depart early to reach Almerimar by midday. The swell from the southwest should have subsided by now. Retrieving the 50+ meters of anchor chain is quite the morning workout, as the anchor is well set due to yesterday’s strong wind and waves, but we eventually manage to free it.

We sail out of the bay with the genoa unfurled on a beam reach. The waves are rough but manageable, until the fridge door suddenly flies open. Luckily, it shuts with the next wave, preventing any serious damage. As we reach Cabo de Gata, the wind strengthens to 25 knots but drops off completely behind the mountain where we plan to anchor. The following day, we experience a bizarre local wind phenomenon: sudden gusts ranging from 0 to 35 knots within seconds coming from all directions. Our boat swings wildly, and while snorkeling, we find our anchor buried so deep in the sand that it’s no longer visible. Despite this, it easily frees itself after a few days, and we sail away from our windy anchorage.

In every review about this bay, we encounter the same thing: a hippie community. Opinions are divided; some feel a sense of insecurity, while others speak of ultimate freedom. We associate hippies with love, peace, and freedom, so we are curious and excited to explore this bay. But what exactly do they mean by 'a whole hippie community'? Is it an off-grid community, or should we expect something more mystical? Our journey to the anchorage is challenging due to annoying waves, but at least we are making good progress. We steer manually to better control the waves under our boat. Fortunately, the bay is more sheltered than expected, and there are more boats anchored than we initially thought. Our anchor holds well, and we are at a respectable distance from the other boats. For those unfamiliar with sailing: nothing is more frustrating than neighbors who are almost sitting in your cockpit. Anchoring too close is simply not done! The engine has now worked flawlessly for the eleventh time, so I can confidently say that the problem is definitively fixed. From now on, I won’t mention the engine problem anymore because there isn’t one. Hooray! Now, back to the hippie community. As soon as we are anchored, I can’t resist my curiosity. With binoculars in hand, I scan the beach. There’s a lot to see: tents, small boats, handmade huts, solar panels, people with and without clothes, dogs, cats, you name it. We hop into the dinghy and continue our investigation. The beach is a cozy chaos of camping people and animals. The beach bar provides relaxing background music. We walk through the valley and discover various huts, built with wood, stone, and recycled materials. It turns out to be an off-grid community where about 50 people live permanently. In the summer, people come with tents to experience what it feels like to live freely. They practice permaculture, grow their own food, and have access to spring water. The nearest town is four kilometers away. Here, the focus is on simplicity, communal living, and a connection with nature. We order something at the beach bar and take in the surroundings while the sweet smell of marijuana wafts around us. We don’t feel unsafe at all—in fact, quite the opposite…

Anchor up and off we go. There's just enough wind to sail smoothly with both the mainsail and the genoa fully set. We've been enjoying tropical temperatures over the past few weeks and during our sail, the shade under the bimini quickly becomes the most cherished spot on board. At the anchorage, we sail to the beach but unfortunately, all the best spots are already taken by mooring buoys for local boats. To our disappointment, there's no place left for us. We see one sailboat anchored just past the channel to the beach, but it's rocking heavily with the swell. Not ideal. So we return to the small island a bit further away and drop our anchor there. Even though there's hardly any wind, we can feel a weak current to the east that positions our boat parallel to the coast and the island. The water is crystal clear and we can see how our anchor is perfectly dug into the sand. A reassuring sight. The nearby town doesn’t have major attractions, but the old fort and the wide, white beach lined with graceful palm trees give it a certain charm. We take a short walk to the Mercadona, just a few hundred meters from the beach, to stock up on supplies. Afterwards, we also drop off our trash in the large dumpsters right by the beach. And then… the real relaxation on board begins. We are surrounded by peace and quiet, only occasionally interrupted by passing dive boats and the cries of seagulls circling above the island. Every now and then, we pause our siesta for a refreshing dip in the clear water. In the past few days, we’ve thoroughly enjoyed life on board, especially because we’re taking the time to savor it all. No rush to get anywhere, just traveling at our own pace and enjoying the beautiful places we encounter along the way.

We set course for Las Palmeras, just 10 miles away. For the fifth time, the engine starts without any issues. Hooray! We unfurl the genua. With a broad reach we are able to steadily sail towards our destination. Our wind vane, Winnie, takes over the helm. We cast out the fishing line, hoping to add some fresh fish to our diet! The journey goes smoothly, and before we know it, we are sailing the last two miles of the trip. Winnie is disengaged, and we sail the final half mile with the wind directly behind us. We reel in the fishing line, but unfortunately, we haven't caught anything. We drop anchor in about five meters of water. Feeling overconfident, we deploy just 20 meters of chain and reverse with a bit more throttle, causing the anchor to slip. Greg lets out more chain, and we gradually dig it in. When diving, we see some patches of posidonia, but the anchor is well dug into the sand. What an exotic place; it feels like an oasis. Surrounded by palm trees, fossilized dunes, and small caves, the beach has an alternative vibe with campfires, guitars, and campers who have claimed abandoned buildings. It feels like a community of modern pirates, wonderful! Greg sets the stern anchor to reduce the boat's rolling. We relax, cool off in the water, and scrape off the growth from the hull. That should help with sailing in light winds.

We hoist the sails with fifteen knots of wind. With a wind angle of 70 degrees, we sail at four knots towards our destination. However, it doesn't take long before the wind dies down and we slow to just two knots. Fortunately, the sails don't flap, the boat remains stable, and there's no swell, making it more comfortable than being at anchor. With only a few knots of wind and a bit of current against us, we eventually start moving backward. So it's time to start the engine, though we leave the mainsail up to help stabilize the boat. We managed to sail about three miles... While Greg is making lunch inside, I'm reading in the cockpit. Suddenly, I see something big jump next to the boat out of the corner of my eye. Three large dolphins join us and swim alongside for about ten minutes. In the distance, we see two more groups of dolphins playing and jumping. It's always special to see them up close. Halfway through, the wind picks up a bit, and we motor-sail for a while at over four knots. Then the wind completely dies, the sea becomes mirror-like, and the sun becomes unbearably hot. The water in our anchorage, Ensenada de la Fuente, isn't as clear as in the previous bay, but the calm sea makes up for it. We are beautifully situated, surrounded by mountains and a small beach with an old watchtower that once protected the village from pirates. We take our dinghy to the beach and surf the waves to land. The hike through the arid mountains is hot, and once in the town further on, we treat ourselves to a drink. A strong breeze is forecast for the night, so we hoist our dinghy onto the deck and let out more chain. In the end, it’s not as bad as predicted. However, the steady breeze keeps the boat from rolling and provides some cooling in the cabin. The next day, we raise the anchor and sail on to the next bay.

We depart from the harbor of Cartagena. The lines are cast off, but the wind pushes us against our neighbor, and we get stuck on his fenders. Fortunately, a friendly Spaniard helps push us off. Once outside the harbor entrance, we raise a half genoa and sail to our destination. The sea is a bit choppy, but there are no real waves yet. The first half of our journey is still protected by the rocks of Cartagena. A few miles further, the swell starts to affect us, causing the boat to rock back and forth. Inside, everything stays in place, but Finn feels unwell and has to throw up. Afterwards, we sail with the waves, and it becomes much calmer. However, the wind is very variable, ranging from 5 to 25 knots, but we stay on course, and it’s not far anymore. In the distance, the first cardinal mark of the fishing nets field appears. There are many boats in the bay, but there’s enough space, and we anchor a few hundred meters from the beach. The journey was occasionally unpleasant, but in the end, we managed to sail the whole way. The water is, as they say, crystal clear, and during each swim, we are surrounded by curious fish. We are anchored peacefully and can moor our dinghy at the dock to explore the surroundings. The village is charming, and the walking path along the beach is varied and beautiful. We actually want to stay longer to take advantage of the wind for our trip to the next bay, but the sea decides otherwise. At the end of the second night, a nasty swell from the south enters the bay. Without wind, that means we’re almost rolling out of bed. After a restless night, we decide to motor to Ensenada de la Fuente, where we are sheltered from the southern waves. The engine starts and keeps running, for the third time!

The engine starts and runs for a while, but eventually stalls just when we think everything is fine. In the meantime, we have checked and replaced every part of our diesel supply system. The only thing left to do is to remove the check valve in the diesel filter housing and install one in the line leading to it. After that, we have no other solutions left. The anchor comes up easily and we leave the bay of Portmán. Although the course could theoretically be sailed, the swell is still significant, so we use the engine. Fortunately, it's not far. As we pass the fish farms, the waves come from behind and Greg makes pancakes for breakfast. We enter the industrial port of Cartagena, surrounded by oil tankers, navy ships, sailboats, fishing boats, rocks, and old forts. There's so much to take in. We contact the port on VHF9 and receive an immediate response from a friendly marinero. He gives us instructions for our berth once we reach the harbor entrance. To our surprise, we are assigned a box instead of having to dock at the busy quay wall. The wind dies down, allowing us to dock in reverse without any issues. Checking in at the office goes smoothly, and we pay only 60 euros for three nights, including all amenities. The port even has a swimming pool, and we are right in the city center. We rinse off the boat, refill the water tanks, and gather our trash so we can explore Cartagena with peace of mind. Cartagena turns out to be a fantastic city: not too big and full of beautiful old historical buildings. We turn it into a real city trip, with dining out, visiting museums, and eating ice cream. Many museums are free on the weekends, such as the underwater archaeology museum and the maritime museum (where a donation of 3 euros is requested if possible). However, we do pay to visit a Roman castle (Castillo de la Concepción), but it was disappointing and not worth the 10 euros. It does offer a beautiful panoramic view of the city, but beyond that, it is not particularly special. The nearby amphitheater, on the other hand, is definitely worth it. We decide to stay another night. This gives us more time to shop, refill the water tank, install a check valve, and rinse off the boat. As expected, the engine now starts without any problems, but for how long?

The engine starts without any issues for the fourth time now, which gives us hope. As we sail, we hear a ticking sound coming from the forestay. We investigate and find that the sound disappears when we reduce the tension on the halyard. After a while, we encounter a rough sea. The boat rocks in all directions, and the sails flap. We make slow progress and decide to take down the sails and continue under engine power. The coastline gradually changes, with more rocks and less development. At our anchorage, we avoid a large rock on the bottom and drop the anchor. There isn't much protection from the waves, but with about 25 meters of chain, the anchor holds firmly. The beach is dark brown, with a rocky coast rising behind it. The sheltered beach near the harbor is crowded with sunbathers, but there's not much else to see. The village of Portmán and the old mine stand out against the mountains. It's a strange place, very different from the tourist areas we came from. The thought that toxic waste has been dumped into the sea here for decades doesn't make it an inviting place to swim. But the locals swim here, and there's a large fish farm behind us! We moor our dinghy in the small harbor and walk to the town. There's not much to see, and even in the morning, it's already very hot. We stay here for two nights. The first night there’s a bit of swell, but the second night is much more turbulent. The boat rolls back and forth in the easterly waves, even though it should be sheltered here. Our drinking water is running out, so we lift the anchor and sail to Cartagena.

The engine starts and keeps running, hooray! The anchor comes up easily, we hoist the mainsail, and we sail out of the harbor of Torrevieja. We sail against the wind for a while to create some distance from the coast, then we set course for our destination with full sails. There is only a six-knot wind, but with a wind angle of 50 degrees, we maintain a boat speed of two knots. At the 10-meter depth line, with about two miles to go, we start the engine. Without thinking about it, start and put it in gear. It keeps running and we motorsail further. The beach, the various anchored boats, and the relatively calm water make us decide to anchor at Ensenada del Esparto. We sail on a beam reach to the beach, drop the mainsail, choose a spot in 3.5 meters of water, and drop the anchor. There are high-rise buildings on the beach, but it could be worse. There are a few other boats here, but there is plenty of space, so it doesn't bother us.

We are sailing towards our destination with a wind angle of about 60 degrees. With just the jib, we are moving at about two knots, but the sea is calm and the sailing weather pleasant. About three miles from the harbour, the wind and waves become rougher, but we are able to sail downwind. Occasionally a southerly wave makes the boat roll uncomfortably. There are two harbour basins for anchoring. The first is quite full, but still has room for several boats. We decide to go to the more sheltered near on the beach where there are more boats. Benny from Tai-Pan, whom we met earlier in Sóller, Mallorca, is standing on his deck and points out that a spot has just opened up behind them. We drop our anchor in about four metres of water and put out 20 metres of chain. We are perfectly positioned between the other boats and far enough away from the docks. Despite the bad reviews, the anchor holds well. Anchoring in the harbour basin is better than expected: no swell, not too crowded, a beach behind us and close to the dock where we can safely leave our dinghy. On Google Maps I discover a snack bar selling Belgian fries nearby. It's a strange feeling to order in Flemish again. The fries with homemade tartar sauce, chicken nuggets and Bickiburger taste amazing! Greg gets a meat croquette and fries with mayonnaise and stew sauce. I have a severe indigestion afterwards, but it's worth it. Torrevieja itself is not very nice. There are a lot of high-rise buildings with a shabby appearance. The next day we go shopping at the Carrefour hypermarket. What a huge store! I find new cushions for the cockpit at a bargain price. We had a package of new parts for our engine delivered. As described in one of the previous blogs, we have a problem with the diesel flow. After starting the engine it keeps shutting off. We thought it was the hand pump, so we ordered a new one. After fitting it, it turns out that wasn't the problem. Greg starts to think seriously and discovers that the problem is with the diesel housing of the coarse filter. He takes it apart and we see that there is some dirt between the plastic check valve. After a thorough cleaning the engine starts immediately. We're still cautious as it's not the first time the engine has worked well for a couple of times after something has been replaced or cleaned. But so far, so good. We had a reservation at the harbour, but cancelled it. There's a lot of noise from a nearby nightclub, so it's not worth staying there. We weigh anchor and head for the next bay.

We approach the north side of the island, where a number of boats are already anchored. However, there is still plenty of space and we search for a suitable sandy spot to drop anchor. We finally find a small patch of sand. Greg dives in to check how the chain is tightening and how the anchor is digging into the sand. A few metres further on it gets stuck under a rock. The water is pleasantly warm, crystal clear and teeming with small fish curiously nibbling at the plants on our boat. The island is still busy with tourists arriving by ferry, so we stay on board for a while. When the tourist boats finally leave, we visit the island. The village is charming and cosy, with narrow streets and local shops. On Saturday morning the 'invaders' arrive early at the anchorage and by lunchtime it is ridiculously crowded. We can't keep up with all the activity around us. In the afternoon, a 20-knot wind picked up and we saw several boats dragging. Luckily our anchor held. In the evening, four boats float up together and celebrate with lots of noise and music until late into the night. Peace and quiet seemed far away. When we went to retrieve the anchor, we found it was still stuck under the rock. Luckily we had attached a triple line with a buoy. We couldn't get it free by hand, but by tying the line to a cleat and reversing the boat, we finally managed to free it. The sun has risen over the horizon and the sea is smooth as a mirror. We set course for our next destination, Torrevieja.

We are in a good spot here, despite the negative reviews. No swell, it's calm, and there are no other boats. Okay, the view of the industrial harbor might be less appealing, but if you look the other way, you only see beach and palm trees. The first evening, a swimmer approaches us with a great interest in our sailing life. "How do you do it?", "Isn't it difficult?", and "Have you been living on your boat for two years?" are some of the questions we answer. The next day, we take the dinghy. After a short ride to the small commercial harbor next to us and a walk through the park, we find ourselves in the center of Alicante. It's quite a beautiful city. We wander around in the scorching heat, browse some shops, and marvel at the beautiful buildings around us. After visiting the city, we go to the supermarket to get something tasty to eat. By sunset, Manuel swims over and brings us lemons from his own garden. We invite him on board and have a chat. He is very curious about the sailing life. He finds it a fun experience to sit on a boat and see 'his beach' from a different perspective. The next day, we lift the anchor and leave Alicante behind.

We wake up before our 7 AM alarm due to the increased wind and accompanying waves from the north. As predicted, our anchorage becomes uncomfortable from sunrise. Our first thought: will the engine start? After a few stops and starts, it finally runs smoothly. We let it run for at least ten more minutes until we feel confident enough to leave this lee shore. We'll be relieved once we reach open sea and can start sailing. After a short mile, we're far enough out of the bay to sail. Just using the genoa, we smoothly make five knots in the right direction. Dolphins! Finally! Three large bottlenose dolphins put on a show, jumping around. We also see many fried egg jellyfish! Meanwhile, we've set the wind vane, and the waves are high but comfortable. We pass Benidorm, amazed by the dozens of skyscrapers adorning the skyline. We start the engine in time to enter our anchorage. There are a few boats, but there's still plenty of space. The water isn't very clear, and the surroundings are ugly, with old high-rise apartment buildings. The next day, we want to leave our dinghy somewhere to go for a walk but are stopped by someone from the marina. We're not allowed to leave the dinghy there, and he can't tell us where else we might. We've heard stories about the police sometimes taking dinghies from the beach; after paying a fine, you get them back. We don't want to take that risk. We row back to our boat and sail to the next anchorage. It was an awfully ugly place anyway, so we're not sad about leaving. 😄

Our arrival is a bit unusual. We sail towards the only free buoy, but a small motorboat has the same idea. We reach the buoy at the same time; he misses, and we manage to grab the buoy’s rope. After some back-and-forth discussion, we learn that he only wants to stay for two hours. We plan to stay all day and night, so we suggest that he moor his motorboat next to ours. He agrees, and that’s what we do. We chat for a while, the atmosphere becomes more relaxed, and we even get some tips about the area. We are anchored here calmly and safely, enjoying the clear, azure water. This is a beautiful spot for snorkeling!

We first anchored on the other side of the bay, but were soon surrounded by small boats, kayakers and paddle boarders. Too crowded! So we moved to the other side where there were several buoys. These free buoys are available because the seabed is covered with Posidonia. We had been looking for a free spot all day, but to no avail. Fortunately, our luck changed in the evening. The swell in the bay was anything but pleasant. It was just manageable (i.e. nothing fell over), but not comfortable. I jumped into the water and discovered we were in an aquarium, with so many fish around us! The next day we went to a nearby beach and did some snorkelling in the bay. We've also decided to go to Lisbon, Portugal this winter. We want to visit friends who live nearby and recharge our batteries. The downside is that we'll have to pass through killer whale territory, but that's unavoidable. Staying in the Mediterranean isn't an option for us; we want to discover more of the world. But for now we're going to use this winter to rest and then dive into the new year with renewed vigour. Something we often forget is that we have time, so there is no need to rush. Funny how the universe gives signals, but the first song I heard on the radio in the supermarket when we were struggling with what to do was "Take it easy", and that's exactly what we're going to do now. 😌

### Our City Trip in Valencia We’ve been looking forward to this! Tineke and Jeroen, very good friends of ours, have flown all the way from Belgium to visit us. We really needed some familiar faces around; morale was quite low. Valencia is huge! What looked like a nearby Airbnb on the map turned out to be a 50-minute bike ride. But the reunion was wonderful. We relaxed on the boat, went to the beach, swam, walked around, and ate out. By evening, our marina, located in the nightlife district, was bustling. Nightclubs played various music. Time for earplugs. The next day is Tineke’s birthday. We meet at the Mercat Central de Valencia, a giant indoor market with dozens of stalls. We marvel at the amount of ham, cheese, and the largest vegetables we’ve ever seen. A feast for the eyes and taste buds. Next, we make a cultural visit to the Valencia Cathedral. We pay 9 euros per person for the audio tour. The cathedral is beautiful, and they even claim to have the Holy Grail (or so they are 99.9% sure). We continue exploring the city, rent Valenbisi bikes to go for tapas, and then head to the park, where we stumble upon the pre-selection of the fallera mayor. The fallera mayor is a key figure in the annual Fallas festival held in March. The festival celebrates the arrival of spring with monumental papier-mâché constructions, fireworks, parades, and other cultural activities. There are two fallera majors: the Fallera Mayor and the Fallera Mayor Infantil (for the youth). Both are seen as the queens of the festival and have a representative role during the festivities. The Fallera Mayor is chosen from young women active in the fallas associations. She must be beautiful and elegant, well-informed about the traditions and history of the Fallas, and able to present these charmingly and convincingly. And so we watch women parading on a catwalk in traditional Valencian costumes. The next day, we visit the Ciudad de las Artes y las Ciencias, a science museum. We learn all about the moon, Mars, and space travel. In the evening, we watch the Fiesta de Moros y Cristianos, a parade commemorating the historical battles between the Moors and Christians during the Reconquista. The costumes are highly detailed and ornate. Various groups parade and dance through the streets, accompanied by traditional music. A feast for the eyes and ears! Afterwards, we head to the square by the town hall for a fireworks show. For the next two days, we take it easier. We walk and bike a lot (Valencia is big!), picnic in Túria Park, drink Agua de Valencia, stroll through the historic center, laugh, talk, and eat out frequently. On the last day, we visit the botanical garden. Then it’s time to say goodbye. If only we could stop time... It was a fantastic city trip with our friends, and I enjoyed it immensely. We both feel a bit lost afterwards. We do the laundry, go shopping, refuel with diesel, and sail on. The typical tasks that are also part of life on a boat.

It's funny how the brain works. After taking a moment to reflect, put things in perspective, and think through all the options, we feel a bit more motivated to continue our sailing trip. Where to? No idea. We'll sail to Gibraltar and figure it out from there. First step: fix our engine problem. We've replaced almost everything except the hand pump. We'll order a new one, replace it, and hope that solves the issue. Worst case, we'll have to call a mechanic. Second step: enjoy! We're heading to Gibraltar, taking it slower, and trying to enjoy what the sailing life still has to offer. Third step: make a decision. Do we go north or south after that? We'll follow our gut feeling and make a choice.

The high waves keep chasing us, making this sailing trip uncomfortable once again. Finn throws up, and when we start the engine, it dies again. We've had enough! Our morale is low, so we decide to scrap all our plans and take it day by day. We're tired of sailing and no longer find it enjoyable. We're left wondering how to move forward.

We set off from Sóller, Mallorca, just before sunset. The waves are high, but our course makes them manageable. With only the genoa sail, we sail slightly broader than half wind at a decent three knots, which is enough for now. The forecast predicts the wind will die down at night and pick up again later. We'll see. Our wind vane, Winnie, takes the helm. Unfortunately, the wind isn't strong enough to combat the rolling waves, causing the genoa to collapse and rub against the rigging. We start the engine and adjust our course slightly south to reduce the rolling and reach the predicted southern wind quicker. We leave a bit of genoa up, hoping it will stabilize the boat. The wind completely dies, and the waves calm a bit. Occasionally, a wave challenges our Raymarine autopilot. Behind us, we see the lights of Mallorca, but otherwise, there's nothing. No moon, just stars. At 3-4 knots on the engine, we roll on the waves. It's not exactly comfortable. Sometimes we wonder what on earth we're doing. A sliver of the moon provides a bit of light alongside the Milky Way. At sunrise, the waves subside, and we unfurl the genoa. We're going too fast and would arrive in Valencia in the middle of the night—a luxury problem. The sun shines, the waves are pleasant, and the boat sails well. Winnie needs some attention with every change in wind strength but steers on course 90% of the time. Greg wakes up from his nap in the bunk bed. The waves are higher again, and the wind is weaker. I start to feel a bit seasick and nibble on some bread. Nelly is sleeping in the bow; how she manages it is a mystery. Finn is in the technical room, playing with his paw through the cat flap and feeling fine. There’s not much to see around us. The wind is too weak for the waves, so we start the engine again. The mainsail stays up to counteract the rolling. The engine stops for a moment; a deep sigh follows. It’s demoralizing. There's a lot of debris in the water, and I stay on the lookout. The sun sinks toward the sea, and it's almost time to start our watches. At sunrise, we pass a drifting container ship, with about twenty miles to go. The sun is already warm, the sea is like a mirror, and there's almost no wind. The coast is clearly in sight. It wasn't a great crossing: lots of waves and engine hours. The routine sets in, and it seems the beautiful moments are becoming rarer, and the effort to reach them greater. Is it still worth it? Or are we so accustomed that we no longer appreciate things, like yet another spectacular sunrise after two nights at sea? But we've reached mainland Spain! We dock without problems at the welcome pier of the marina.

The engine starts and runs fine for a minute, then stalls. After two more attempts it finally starts, but it takes a while for the diesel to flow back into the tank. With our hearts pounding, we raise the anchor and cautiously sail out of the bay. A fresh breeze is blowing outside, and with the genoa half furled we make 4-5 knots. Our course: Sóller. As we enter the bay, we see two 75-metre superyachts: M'Brace (with the famous basketball player Michael Jordan on board) and Go. The bay is crowded, with many boats anchored close together, but we manage to find a spot. While anchoring, we are greeted by a couple on a Belgian boat from Antwerp. What a small world! We find Sóller a little overcrowded and very touristy. The wooden tram seems like a must, but when we see the long queue of dozens of tourists we decide to skip it. There are some nice holiday homes here though! On the day we leave, it pours - more rain than we've seen in a long time. Our dinghy fills up and the cockpit drains can't keep up with the water. It started to thunder and the wind picked up. We saw a boat drifting towards the rocks. Just in time, the captain managed to start the engine and steer away. We also came dangerously close to our neighbour, but luckily our engine was running and Greg managed to keep us at a safe distance. After half an hour the worst is over. The bright blue water has turned brown with mud. I climb into the dinghy and start to bail it out. In the evening we treat ourselves to a Chinese takeaway and pull up the anchor around 7pm. Our destination: Valencia.

We set off early from our anchorage. With about six knots of wind, we managed a speed of 2.5 knots on a broad reach and full sails. The sea was calm and easily navigable, but there was a chance we might arrive at the cala too late and find it already crowded with boats. Nelly was enjoying the sailing, and even Finn was relaxed under his cushion in the cockpit, playing with the ants that had been crawling around for a while. Don’t ask me how they got on board. As the wind died down, our speed dropped below 2 knots, so we started the engine. The view of the Mallorcan cliffs was breathtaking! WHAT A PARADISE! Clear water in every shade of blue, impressive cliffs with trees, and hundreds of fish beneath our boat. And... only one other boat in the bay. Ten minutes after anchoring, I enthusiastically dove into the water, surrounded by dozens of saddled seabream and swallowtail fish. The next day, our enthusiasm waned a bit when we encountered 30 knots of wind over our deck. Apparently, every evening a katabatic wind tumbles down from the mountain. There was also some swell, just enough to be annoying. Fortunately, the stunning surroundings, the beautiful snorkeling area, and the good holding ground made up for it. We even saw a stingray while snorkeling!