Spain

Lying 100 nautical miles, southeast off the rugged coast of Spain, are the exquisite Balaeric Islands: Menorca, Mallorca, and Ibiza. Ancient castles and windmills rose up out of the mist, as we coasted into an approach at dawn after a two day sail from Sicily. Will guided us into Mahon, navigating us through a narrow channel to an open bay where we anchored in the shadow of the Fortress of Isabel II, once the battlegrounds of the British.

The fort was originally built in the mid-1800’s after pressure by the British, who were threatening to return to the island in order to use it as a base in their defensive operations against the French. The two countries were disputing naval control of the Mediterranean. Mediterranean waters had never been peaceful after the end of the Napoleonic wars in 1815, and competing sea routes for trade caused conflict.

On passage from Menorca to Mallorca, we ducked into Port Colom for refuge against the high winds and seas that had been forecasted. Amidst darkening skies, we took walks along the quayside, sampled local cuisine, and snorkeled in the sapphire-blue waters in the harbor entrance, that were flanked by giant boulders. Warren and Adam took turns diving off, as we studied the pretty fish below.

Fishing is one of the main occupations in the Balearic Islands. The fishermen would gather in the early morning hours to repair nets beneath a jury-rigged sun canopy, while chatting animatedly with a friend. At one time, these islands were a base for pirates during the 8th century when the islands were conquered by the Moors, who preyed on the ships in the Mediterranean, but James I, king of Aragon, expelled them in 1229. Today, the islands are well-known resort areas.

Jeri and Michael on “Aphrodite”, a St. Francis 50’, met us at the Salinas Beach anchorage. They’d come halfway around the world to meet us, having started from California. Jeri is Peter’s cousin, and childhood friend from Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, so we shared many good times together before their departure to the Spanish mainland.

Hidden in the depths of the bush are mud flats, rumored to contain rich healing properties. Beach goers paraded into the thicket at all hours of the day, to sit and massage the gooey red mud into their skin. Like the tourists we were, we planted ourselves at the flat’s edge to do the same. Adam and Warren went deeper into the flats, slipping and barreling into each other in trying to reach the dry lake’s center: We shared uproarious laughter at their antics. Soon though, a burning sensation ensued from our mud-caked bodies, and we raced back into the ocean for relief. Still, the smooth skin that had repaired our previous sun-damage was worth the effort!

Ibiza is a world-famous resort spot, a playground for the rich and famous. The beauty of the beaches for long hikes, perfect kite-boarding conditions for Adam and Warren, and crystal clear waters kept us entertained for many days while recuperatiing from our transit from Italy.

Formentara is a small fishing village, relatively undeveloped. We anchored with "Aphrodite" near town in a pretty anchorage that was fringed by a long white beach, and set alongside a National Park: perfect for early morning walks.

Because Formentara was frequently raided by barbarians, Moors, and Scandinavians (returning home from the Crusades), the island lay abandoned for a couple hundred years after the downfall of Rome. Once inhabitants returned to the island, piracy was still a problem, and on occasion, the villagers turned to crimes of the high seas themselves. In 1806 they captured the British 12-gun "Felicity" and sailed her into Ibiza.

Before entering the Atlantic Ocean after we departed from Gibraltar, we stopped at Terife: the world’s renowned site for international windsurfing competitions. While Adam and Warren popped into town in search of used sports gear, Peter and I relished the four mile long beach walks with Bella.