Our Journey from Sóller to Valencia

Julie

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.

Boat & Crew

El Burro

Swallow Craft Design Group, Swift 33

Gregory Ramis Ferriol

Owner

Finn

Pet, Male

Nelly

Pet, Female

Julie

Owner