SV AT FIRST SIGHT
Alredador Menorca (Around Minorca)
95 Miles in 16 Days
As noted in our last post, we departed Estación Naval de Mahón on 9 October on a crystal clear but near-windless day and passed through the cut between mainland Menorca and Isla de Aire, where we saw George and Maggie Ferrara waving goodbye from the rooftop of their home in Punta Prima. From there, we motored along the southern coast for only about 7–8nm, where we decided to give Calas Covas a try. It is one of the half dozen or so calas vying for the title as the “most spectacular and beautiful anchorage” in the Islas Baleares. It also has the distinction of being lined by >150 caves in its surrounding cliffs, including many that were inhabited during prehistoric times. Still on our minds, however, were the multiple frustrations we experienced back in Mallorca trying to anchor overnight in other similarly ballyhooed anchorages. They were every bit as beautiful as described in the cruising guides, but they were also packed liked sardines with dayboats and charterers, which not only made it difficult to find swing room, the crowds ruined the ambiance of trying to anchor “off the grid.”
But we were cruising Mallorca in September, which was still “shoulder season” from the peak of summer. We were now into mid-October. Would things be different, even though we were within easy reach of day-trippers and overnighters from Mahón? We could see only one mast of a largish sailboat as we approached the cala’s narrow entrance, but the anchorage is forked and rimmed by high rocky cliffs, making it easy for other vessels to be blocked from our view.
Calas Covas, 9–14 October
To our relief and joy, however, only three yachts and a few dayboats were in the cala, and it looked like there was a spot in the right fork that had At First Sight written on it between a beautiful Halberg-Rassey cutter flying a British ensign positioned at the split, and a large Lagoon catamaran showing French colors. There was just one small sailboat from Italy anchored down the left fork, but it is narrower than the right and is scattered with rocks awash restricting our maneuvering room. All of the boats had their sterns to the cliffs and two lines taken ashore to prevent any swinging. We went for it, dropping our anchor in 12’ of crystal-clear water very close to the cliff on the far side of the right fork, and then gently backed down a couple of boat lengths to set the hook while sliding in to take our spot midway between the HR and the cat. Now to get the lines ashore, quickly, before we drifted into one of our neighbors. To do this, Vicki took the helm to keep us properly aligned, and I dinghied over to rocks behind us and climbed onto a ledge on the cliff. Twenty minutes later, we were secured with a 3-point set — the anchor off the bow and two crossed lines off the stern tied around large rocky crags in the cliff.
While I was diving on the anchor a short while later to ensure it was well set, Rene, the skipper of Momentum (the HR), paddled by on his SUP to compliment us on our boat handling (“Better to be lucky than good,” I thought to myself.) He also said he was planning to depart for Mahón at 07:00 the next morning, and that we might want to slide over to his spot where we could let out more anchor chain before someone else got it, given that there was a 40kt Tramontana forecasted for the coming days. Sure enough, at precisely 07:00, we heard Momentum motor out of the cala, and we repositioned AFS by 09:00. And as Rene suggested, we were able to let out 120’ of chain in our new position at the “Y” in the cala, in order to provide more holding when the wind started to blow, which it did. Shortly after we repositioned, Kevin and Jaci (pronounced Jacquie) anchored next to us in the left fork, in their Lagoon catamaran, GypsyDjango, sporting a U.S. ensign from their backstay — one of just a handful of U.S. registered vessels we’ve seen in the 14 months we’ve been in Europe. Truth be told, we later learned, Kevin and Jaci are from South Africa, GypsyDjango was a charter boat in Croatia before they purchased her, and strangely enough, the U.S. registration was for convenience and expediency.
After breakfast, Vicki, Saylor, and I rowed to the beachhead at the end of the right fork, and then hiked nearly 6 miles. We started outbound rock climbing along the cliffs until we linked up with the Cami des Cavalls, a horse trail dating back to the 1300s built for soldiers to patrol the entire coast of Menorca defending it. After decades of wrangling between government officials and coastal landowners, the rugged, mostly unimproved path was reestablished as a contiguous trail in 2009. After ~3 miles, we reached the next cala along the coast, Cala’n Porter, famous for the posh nightclub, Cova d’en Xoroi, an eclectic and therefore expensive venue literally built in and around caves that dot the cliffs overlooking the Mediterranean Sea.
Unfortunately, the landmark was closed when we arrived. Now, due to the season and to COVID, it is minimally staffed and only open for a few hours around sunset. We made a note of its hours, and then walked ~3/4km to Club Menorca, a hotel-restaurant-spa combo perched on a high cliff above the cala itself. After a great al fresco lunch on their terrace, we hiked the 3 miles back to our dinghy on the Cami des Cavalls. After an almost obligatory siesta, we grilled out on the fantail at sunset, and watched more “Mission Impossible” on DVD after dark. (Useful information for hikers about the Cami des Cavalls is found at this link: https://www.descobreixmenorca.com/en/cami-de-cavalls-3/, and details for clubbers about Cova d’en Xoroi are found here: https://www.covdenxoroi.com.)
We spent four more nights at anchor in Calas Covas, in part because it was an idyllic setting, but also because it was blowing stink out in the open waters around Menorca. As the wind freshened to 35+ knots, as forecasted, we rowed out in 2nd Sight to deploy a second anchor off the starboard bow to hold us tight in the crosswind that was whipping around the mountainous cliff off our stern. Fortunately, Calas Covas was wonderfully protected from the nasty northerlies. Looking out to sea through the mouth of the cala, the Med looked angry with white caps and breaking wavetops as far as the eye could see. However, we rowed ashore every day in relatively calm water. On one such day we hiked ~3 miles on the Cami des Cavalls in the opposite direction as before. It was a totally tranquil walk, spoiled only by the anxiety that struck when Saylor disappeared for 15 minutes after being let off lead while we climbed over rough terrain that required both hands for stability. I looked down after reaching the plateau, and she was nowhere to be found. Thankfully, she returned on her own — unlike in the Azores where she was out all night. The other notable event was finding etchings inside a nearby cave that dated back to the Roman Era, circa 3–4AD. We had read about them in our cruising guidebook, and they were literally 100m off our stern!
Cala’n Porter, 14–16 October
We left Calas Covas under blustery conditions, motored 3–4nm perpendicular to the coast into an unsettled sea, turned around, and motored in almost the opposite direction on a rhumb line for Cala’n Porter, just 2.5 miles west of Calas Covas. We anchored in the middle of this large horseshoe shaped cala rimmed by rugged, undeveloped cliffs on one side, and by majestic homes and villas on the other. Our mission: visit the Cova d’en Xori nightclub.
After a rain shower or two passed, we rowed ashore an hour before sunset, beached 2nd Sight, and then walked ~25 minutes uphill to the famous night spot. We paid the €12/person cover, walked down a long, steep set of stairs seemingly carved right out of the cliff, and then entered the venue, which meanders in an out of a series of caves that penetrate deep into the monstrous bluff. Every cave that opens to the face of the cliff has a table or two set right at the precipice giving their occupants a commanding, if not precarious, view of the sea and rocky scree below. There are less than 25 customers in the club who, like us, were there to watch the sunset, and the club will close an hour later.
We can only imagine what the place must have been like pre-COVID, in peak season at 2am on a Saturday night. Packed with twenty somethings. Techno beat blaring at high decibels. Machine-made fog wafting across the crowded dance floor. A full moon over the Mediterranean Sea. At this stage in our lives, however, watching the sunset give way to dusk with a nice vino tinto in our hands was enough excitement.
As the sun was sinking below the horizon, we walked to Club Menorca for dinner, where our seats on the patio were directly over AFS at anchor. Mission accomplished, we rowed back to AFS at 10pm, arriving just before a deluge of rain showers hit the area for the remainder of the night. We slept in until 8am the next morning, rowed ashore and did morning PT in a little beachside park.
Afterwards, we ate breakfast at a waterfront bar, where we met a nice older couple from London who had canceled their return tickets three times since the end of the summer season. We rowed back to AFS in a heavy rain shower, then spent the rest of the day chillaxin’ at anchor. That night, the swell picked up considerably for a short while, then thankfully abated between 2–4am.
Cala Santandría, 16–18 October
We left Cala’n Porter after morning PT with the temperature a chilly 55F, which seemed colder at sea. Fortunately, we had broken out the eisenglass cockpit enclosure before the big wind storm hit at Calas Covas to keep us out of the biting wind. Summer definitely appeared to be in the rearview mirror now. After just 4 miles of sailing, though, the wind went to zero, and we motored the rest of the way to our anchorage in Cala Santandría, a picturesque cala “guarded” by a 14th century tower at its entrance and partially lined on one side by vacation homes. We anchored in 15’ of clear water over sand, and took two lines to shore for another solid 3-point hold. Kevin and Jaci were already there in GypsyDjango, about 50m further into the cala.
We embarked in 2nd Sight at 9am the next morning, and motored to the sandy beach at the head of cala where there was a nice sandy beach, although the high tidal area was completely carpeted by 4–6” of loose woody seagrass. After securing the dinghy, we walked ~2 miles into Ciutadella along the route suggested by Google Maps. It was along a main thoroughfare, and totally uninteresting. Once in the city center, however, we enjoyed breakfast at Totbo, a bakery, pastelería, and coffee shop. From there, we walked all around the old town, shopped for gifts, and then walked some more. We returned to the boat ~1630, via the coastal route, which intersected the Cami des Cavalls horse trail. When all was said and done, we had walked 7+ miles according to Vicki’s fitness watch, and we both agreed that we had definitely earned a siesta. Saylor wanted one, too.
Shortly before sunset, just as Vicki was starting to prep fixings for a pizza dinner, we received a text from Kevin and Jaci in GypsyDjango asking if we wanted to join them ashore to watch the sunset. So, we put away dinner and hopped in 2nd Sight, and motored a short way to a place where we could climb ashore. We tried something new, anchoring from the stern, paying out just enough rode to reach the rocky coast and tying the bow line to a rock on shore. It worked great. The sunset was super spectacular, and we may enter some of our pictures in a photo contest. Vicki made instant Yakisoba for dinner, when we returned to AFS at 10pm, and it hit the spot.
Club Náutic Ciutadella, 19–21 October
The next morning, we had Gruyere and spinach omelets for breakfast, somewhat of a pre-birthday meal in Vicki’s honor. And afterwards we motored to the marina at Club Náutic Ciutadella to be closer to the ancient city and to have good WiFi for a Zoom chat with the kids and grandkids at 3pm. We had a wonderful call with everyone, and we were sad to sign off when it was over.
The next day, Vicki’s birthday, we walked and walked around old Cituadella, ate lunch out, and then celebrated Vicki’s birthday with a glass of wine and tapas at the Club Náutic Restaurant. The following day, we rented a car, toured Bronze Age relics in central Menorca, and drove along the rugged north shore with stops in Ferreries, Es Mercadal, and Fornells, where we had a phenomenal lunch at Sa Llagosta, on the wharf.
What a delightfully relaxing day, until…
The afternoon got hectic. We drove back to Ciutadella to do laundry, provisioning, and pick up the local gifts we had purchased the day before, deciding in route to divide and conquer with Vicki doing the laundry and me doing the provisioning and retrieving the gifts. However, when I returned to the laundromat about an hour later, Vicki was frustrated because the coin machine wasn’t working and all our wet clothes were still sitting in driers. To make matters worse, all the local businesses were on siesta and she hadn’t been able to find change anywhere within walking distance. I hurriedly drove to a supermarket about a kilometer away and sped back with the necessary change.
Clothes dried, we hastily dropped everything aboard AFS and now had to rush to the rental car agency to drop off the car on time, when we were stopped by the Guardia Civil as we left the boat. Fortunately, we had copies of the paperwork from the Guardia Civil boarding in Ibiza back in July, and so they only detained us for ~20 minutes. We got the rental car back on time, but just barely. When we returned to AFS an hour or so later, we discovered that swell at the dock while we were out had caused the paserela to damage the propane locker and teak cap rail on the stern. As noted by Bill Murray in one of my all-time favorite movies, Stripes, “And then depression set in.”
Cala Morell, 21–22 October
The next morning, we got underway — twice actually. The first time was at ~11am when we motored out of Ciutadella inlet directly into 25kts winds and 4–6' seas. I then looked to make sure the Navionics app was tracking on my iPad, but neither Vicki nor I could find it. I had last seen it ashore, during PT that morning. So, we turned around and went back through the inlet and tied starboard side to the quay. (The marineros thought we returned because of heavy weather.) I stepped ashore as soon as we were secured to the dock, and my iPad was on a cement pedestal, just where I had used it during morning PT. Two minutes later, we were underway again. The outbound leg from the inlet was just as rough, but we were mentally better prepared for rough sea. Upon hitting ~2 miles offshore, we unfurled the genoa and turned to a beam reach, and cruised all the way to Cala Morell as follows: beam reach port tack, broad reach port tack, jibe, broad reach starboard tack, beam reach starboard tack, close reach, douse sails and motor into cala. Along the way, we were generally at 6–7kts under our genoa alone, and we even saw 9kts once. Max wind gust 31kts.
Anchoring in the smallish cala with a 20kts crosswind was a chore, and took 3 attempts. We were grateful to Kevin and Jaci in GypsyDjango for taking our stern lines ashore for us in their dinghy, or we might still be trying to anchor in Cala Morell! For dinner, Vicki fixed the best tuna-noodle casserole ever, which wasn’t easy given the large swell rolling into the cala that Kevin and Jaci said we brought with us.
We took the dinghy ashore the next morning and hiked back on the cliffs all the way to the mouth of the cala for a picnic breakfast, just a few feet away from a Bronze Age archeologic dig site. We returned just in time to wave goodbye to Kevin and Jaci as they departed for Barcelona, . We then readied ourselves for getting underway, hoisting the mizzen sail at anchor to keep us heading directly into the 20kts wind. We held a smooth eastbound beam reach under Jib & Jigger along the rocky northern coast for just ~7nm from Cala Morell to Cala Pregonda.
Cala Pregonda, 22–23 October
This cala is nearly surrounded by low-lying, red rocks and reef, which we hoped would provide good protection from most wind directions and minimize any swell. In fact, we had a quiet overnight with minimal swell. We rowed ashore and hiked another stretch of Cami des Cavalls, 2 miles from Cala Pregonda to Cala Barrill and back. We had a nice picnic breakfast at Barrill, and we bumped into a group of 6 Spanish hikers (our age or older) who were on their last day of circumnavigating the 186km of the Cami des Cavalls. ¡Enhorabuena to them!
We got underway mid-afternoon for the 15nm trip from Cala Pregonda around Cabo Favaritx to Cala Presili on the NE coast. We sailed most of the way under Jib & Jigger, including poling out the genoa for an 8–10nm run dead downwind. We anchored in Cala Presili, which really more a gentle bend in part of an otherwise open bay on the south side of the cape. It seemed rather exposed, compared to the sheltered calas we had been experiencing before.
Cala Presili, 23–24 October
Somewhat to our surprise, we had peacefully calm, gentle rocking that night that led to us sleeping in until shortly past 8am. Sunrise wasn’t until 8:03 anyway. Vicki worked out on the fantail, while I went for a 20-minute swim.
The water was noticeably colder, and I was glad I wore a rash guard and swim cap. We got underway shortly after noon, and motored just a short way around the coast, past Cap Mestral and then anchored in Cala Tamarells de Sur, in the shadow of an 18th century stone tower.
Cala Tamerells del Sur, 24–25 October
We reset our clocks on this night for an extra hour of sleep in a totally calm cala. I woke up first and rowed ashore, climbed the rocks, and shot some nice pictures in the early morning light of AFS in the relative foreground and Torre de Rambla in the background. Later, Vicki, Saylor, and I rowed in to the beach and hiked a bit of the Cami des Cavalls, then took a right off the Cami and walked out to the Torre where we enjoyed a delicious breakfast. The total hike was just 1.5 miles, but it was a beaut! By the time we finished breakfast, the winds were already freshening to ~20kts. We returned to AFS and made quick preparations for getting underway for Mahón.
We motored out from behind Isla de Colom and then unfurled the genoa for what was mostly a beam reach south along the coast about 2–3nm offshore. By the time we had sailed ~8nm and were off Punta S’ Esperó, however, winds were 25kts plus, and we were pretty much close hauled, crashing into the building swells, yet still making 5.5–7kts under genoa alone. As we approached Esperó, we started the Perkins and doused the genoa, which was more violent than we would have liked because it was tough furling against 25kts of wind.
From there we motored into Puerto de Mahón and contacted the base commander to let him know we were inbound. As we passed by Isla del Rey, we gave two blasts of our ship’s whistle in honor of the volunteers we met when we toured the isla during our visit and who appeared to be working this day at the historic naval hospital. Docking was not fast or pretty due to a 25kt crosswind, even with help from a Spanish Navy marinero. In the end, however, we were safely docked starboard side to, but with one more ding in the hull. Nevertheless, mission complete.
