Port of Call, Mahón, Menorca
A Picturesque City with a Rich History and Wonderful People
After a sleepless night in Cala Talaier due to the wicked rockin’ and rollin’ (well described in the cruising guide, but overlooked by us), we were eager to get underway earlier than usual on October 1. Our destination — Puerto de Mahón, at nearly 7km long and 30m deep, one of the largest natural harbors in the world, and one of the most strategically important as well
Fortunately, after transiting a few bumpy miles offshore, we had a fantastic and smooth sail that quickly made us forget about the nasty swell back in the cala. The entrance to the harbor was ~25nm away, mostly due east. We were expecting generally SE to SSE winds at 20kts, perfect for a jib & jigger ride at least as far as Isla de Aire, marking the SE corner of Menorca, and from where it was just ~4nm north to the harbor entrance.
We chose to remain several miles offshore to avoid getting set toward the rocky lee shore by the blustery wind. The wind was fresh, the sea relatively calm, and At First Sight was moving in sync with the periodicity of the crossing swell. However, we couldn’t help notice there was a sloop rig about our size, slightly less than a mile in front of us and heading in the same direction, taking the inshore coastal route. We could see through the binoculars that this was a newer boat, built more for speed than AFS. Nevertheless, we were making 6.5–8.5kts under jib & jigger alone. Race on!
We thought several times to briefly turn into the wind and hoist the mainsail to give our heavy blue-water cruiser a fighting chance, but our helm was perfectly balanced with just the jib & jigger, and our ride was as smooth as silk. Besides, we seemed to be catching up; and he would have to travel a little farther than we would to reach Isla de Aire if he stayed along the coast, because we had a straight shot from our offshore position. Several hours passed. Sometimes he seemed to be pulling away, and other times we definitely gained. I suppose it was a draw at this point, because we both approached the west side of Aire at about the same time.
For peace of mind, we had planned to go outside of Isla de Aire, and then cut north for the entrance to Mahón; however, we changed our minds watching our “competition” cut left to take the narrow cut between the islet and mainland Menorca. The chart shows 6m (18’) of water throughout most of the ½-mile cut between the land masses, and the cruising guide suggests it as an alternative to going around the island when approaching Mahón from Mallorca, as we were. But the parallax and linear perspective of the narrows made it look from as close as a mile away that we wouldn’t fit! Moreover, with two large bodies of water on either side of the cut squeezing their waters through the strait over a sugar white sandy bottom, the narrow gap looked more like a sandbar than a navigable channel. But we were now just a few boat lengths behind our competition, and this guy seemed to know what he was doing. So, we followed him through the cut at 7kts. As we rounded Punta Prima and turned north for Mahón, we were both now going dead downwind, wing-on-wing with our genoas out to starboard. The sloop, however, had his full mainsail out to his port side, while we had our small-by-comparison mizzen in the same direction. Only at this point, with us significantly under-canvased, did our competition begin to pull away over the remaining few miles to the harbor entrance where we both doused our sails and motored to our respective destinations inside the historic port.
Entering Puerto de Mahón, founded in 206BC, is in many respects like going back in time several hundred years. Sure, there are numerous brightly colored houses and mid-rise apartments on the cliffs overlooking both sides of the harbor, like in many modern Mediterranean ports. But there are also cylindrical Martello Towers dating to the 14th century guarding the entrance, Spanish fortresses from the 17th century on the surrounding hillsides, and Isla del Rey right in the middle of the harbor, with what is reportedly the first forward-deployed naval hospital in the world, built by the Royal Navy in 1711 and used until 1964 — including by our fledgling U.S. Navy’s Mediterranean Squadron, 1811–1845. In addition, there is the Lazareto, which pre-dates the U.S. Naval Academy as a training site for U.S. Navy midshipmen, and Isla Plana (more often referred to Isla Quarentina), which served like New York Harbor’s Ellis Island, as a holding facility for newly arriving immigrants and merchant seamen in the 1800s and 1900s.
Anchoring is limited to a small area just inside and to the right of the mouth of the natural harbor, which seems to go on forever. The deep channel is lined on its south side with marinas filled with power and sailing yachts — both private and for charter — moored Mediterranean style with their sterns to the quay. There are also numerous floating mooring pontoons scattered about the harbor, which were mostly empty during our visit as we were well past peak season.
But we didn’t need to concern ourselves with finding a spot in a marina, thanks once again to our friend Juan Peñuelas, and his apparently endless network of friends and colleagues in the Spanish Navy. Capitán de Fragata (Commander) Guillermo Coll, Comandante Naval de Mahón, was permitting us to dock at Estación Naval de Mahón, which sits prominently near the head of the harbor on the more residential north side.
As instructed, we called the naval station by cellphone as we passed Isla del Rey, and two uniformed Spanish Sailors were on the docks to meet us, direct us to our spot, and help with our lines. We were moored in no time, and then visited shortly thereafter by CF Coll, who encouraged us to have dinner that night in the Residencia (officer and senior enlisted club) on base, and so we did. He joined us for coffee at the end of our meal, and provided a suggested itinerary for our stay in Mahón, including a visit the next day of the Anglo-American cemetery on the water’s edge near Isla del Rey, and a tour of the naval hospital and historic garrison on Isla del Rey itself.
Thanks to CDR Coll, we were über busy every day in Mahón. On Friday, he took us by car to the Anglo-American Cemetery, accompanied by George Ferrara, President in Menorca of the Madrid Council of the Navy League of the United States. The plan had been to go by sea from the naval station via a Spanish navy launch, but the wind was blowing at 25kts that morning making a boat ride unsafe. The cemetery is considerably smaller than half a football field/pitch, and it is unassuming and maintained with barebone resources by the Spanish Army; however, it will nevertheless put a lump in any U.S. Navy Sailor’s throat. There are no famous names on any of the grave markers, although everyone interred there was an unsung hero of their day. Several are listed as “Unknown U.S. Navy Sailor.” But below the names of the deceased are the names of the ships in which they served, and that list reads like a Who’s Who of our Navy’s early history, including the USS CONSTITUTION, which still serves today, the USS CONGRESS, the USS DELAWARE, among others.
George, an affable polyglot story teller, is one of the most interesting people we’ve ever met. He was celebrating his 92nd birthday on the day we were introduced, but he looks and acts much younger. He was born in France to Italian parents, emigrated to Chicago in his 20s, and served both in the U.S. Army and CIA. He fell in love with Menorca during his first visit, and never left. George was the mover and shaker who led an interagency effort to restore the overgrown cemetery to its present respectable state; he also led the effort to rename the hallowed ground from “English Cemetery” to the ecumenical “Anglo-American Cemetery,” which seems appropriate since there are 28 U.S. Sailors interred there, alongside one English consular official and one German official, all from the early to mid-1800s. After falling into an overgrown state, the cemetery is now maintained by the Spanish Army, and two Spanish soldiers met us at the normally locked gate for our solemn walk back in history. It’s unfortunate that so few Americans, in general, and Sailors, in particular, get to experience this small piece of our American naval heritage.
After spending the day with George, he kindly invited us to his home in Punta Prima (across from Isla de Aire, where our “race” took a turn for the worse) for lunch. He and his wife, Maggie, were delightful hosts for a wonderful Spanish-style lunch (meaning a non-rushed, relaxing meal and social hour(s).
Maggie is every bit as special as George, but in different ways. She is an artist-engineer, and their home is her studio. She works in numerous media and her workshop studio is brimming with various kinds of paints and supplies, arc welders, cement mixers, woodworking tools, etc. Her work is quite in demand locally, and one example is the Rotary International statue that greets visitors to Menorca’s international airport. Not surprisingly, the meal was phenomenal, but the rich conversation with these two was the real treat.
The following day we toured Isla del Rey, which was, for over two centuries, an encampment and naval hospital for the British, the French, the Dutch, the Americans, and, of course, the Spanish, who used the hospital until 1964. At its peak, the hospital had 1,200 beds, according to our knowledgeable guide, Lorraine Ure, a British expat who visited Menorca decades ago, and who, like George, fell in love with it, and hasn’t left. Like the cemetery, the hospital and grounds had fallen into a serious state of disrepair until Luis Alejandre, a retired Spanish Army Chief of Staff and native son of Menorca, established the philanthropic Fundación Hospital de la Isla del Rey to restore the compound and make it the official welcome center for visitors from around the world who come to Menorca for its historical and natural splendor.
Over the past decade, General Alejandre and the Foundation have made considerable progress toward their goal. Every Sunday (the day we visited), for example, 100 or more volunteers take the Foundation’s motor launch at 08:00 a short ride from the mainland to the island for ~4 hours of restoration work — running the spectrum from cutting back overgrown vegetation to detailed fine carpentry and masonry work, and the like. Shortly before noon, a bell rings, the work stops, and everyone gathers in the hospital courtyard for snacks, camaraderie, and a progress report on the restoration. Everyone then boards the water taxis back to the mainland, but not before they are given an opportunity to donate to the Foundation.
It was during the afternoon wrap-up when we met Mike Fara; and later, his wife Mary. They are retired New Yorkers who visited Menorca years ago, fell in love with it, and now call it home, at least part time — except that this year, due to COVID-19 effects, they’ve been stranded in Menorca for months longer than initially planned. They are generously providing financial support to the Foundation for the establishment of an American Room at the hospital that will chronicle its use by our Navy’s Mediterranean Squadron, as well as the operations of the Squadron itself. France, Holland, and Great Britain already have similar rooms well on their way to completion to commemorate the use of the hospital and grounds by those countries.
We later rendezvoused with the Faras for dinner at Jágaro, a popular local restaurant, to sample a local delicacy, Caldereta de Langosta, a gumboesque lobster stew that we can now say from experience is out of this world delicious. A mini-disaster struck, however, as we were disembarking from 2nd Sight at the town dinghy dock. My cell phone fell out of my coat pocket and into the water beneath the dock. Unfortunately, there was too much wind and chop to see anything under the dock right then. However, the water was flat calm when we returned to the dock a few hours later, well after dark. We could see the phone sitting 4–5’ underwater with the bright light from our high intensity flashlight. So, I took a midnight dip and recovered the phone, which to our surprise still worked, but only for ~24 more hours — just long enough to ensure the data were saved and backed up elsewhere. Disaster averted; but not the expense of a new cellphone.
In between the naval cemetery and the naval hospital, we visited the Museo de Menorca, which is very nicely done. Menorca’s recorded history dates back to the Phoenicians and to Greek traders (~1600–300 BCE), followed by the Romans (~125 AD). The first Spanish settlers from the mainland arrived at the dawn of the Bronze Age, ~1500 BCE. As a result of this diverse colonization, Menorca is an archeologist’s dream, with many relics from sites around the island making their way to the museum. (In addition, there are more than 2000 megalithic remains dotted around the island forming what some consider one of the best open-air museums in the world.) One exhibit hit home for us, literally, and that was the Menorcan connection with St. Augustine, Florida, America’s oldest continuously established city. The exhibit describes how ~1,400 Menorcan indentured servants helped colonize north Florida between New Smyrna and St. Augustine. We’ve stopped in St. Augustine several times in AFS, and were aware of the city’s Menorcan ties, but this exhibit provided rich historical context. As we left the museum, we realized that it was one of the few indoor public places that we’ve been to since COVID restrictions were put in place back in March, except for grocery stores, hardware stores, laundromats, and the like.
One closing nugget about Mahón before closing out this post is about mayonnaise, which many culinary historians believe was first made here. As the legend goes, the French had laid siege to Menorca in the mid-1700s, and upon occupying the city they discovered many foodstuffs were in short supply. But the French being, well, French, still wanted to eat well, and the chef for the duke in charge of the occupying forces is credited with using mahonnaise in meals he prepared for the duke. Here the story varies, depending upon who is telling it. Lacking rich cream for a traditional sauce, some say the chef was forced to create it from oil, eggs, and lemons, which were readily available. Others suggest he borrowed the recipe from locals who already were making it. Regardless, there seems to be reasonable consensus that mayonnaise originated in Mahón because recipes by that name did not appear in French cooking records until after the French siege of Menorca.
We motored out of Mahón at midday on Friday, October 9, on a sunny but near windless day. We confidently retraced our route through the narrow cut at Isla de Aire, and put the wheel to starboard to pass along Menorca’s south coast. But as we scanned the development at Punta Prima while passing through the channel, we were delighted to see George and
Maggie Ferrara on their rooftop waving to us, which just made our day. We anchored a short while later in Calas Covas, which is where we’ll pick up next time.
