Our Mediterranean Sea Adventure Pt. 2 – Mainland Spain

From France to Spain – Our first overnight passage

March 2023.
It was pitch black around us. We could only see the waves dancing in the glow of our boat’s navigation lights. Our destination was Spain, more precisely Barcelona. As we needed to go back to Port Napoleon in a month to get our bimini and sprayhood installed (see my previous blog), we decided to make a little detour.

We had no clue what we were getting into. The journey started with a calm sea but at sunset turned into a wild rollercoaster ride. We figured it would be a brilliant idea to sleep in our cabin for the night, but when the boat suddenly tilted on a massive wave, we felt like we were floating, just like astronauts up in space. So, we quickly transformed our sofa into a makeshift bunk bed.
We had a nighttime routine that actually worked quite well. We would take turns sleeping for three hours and steering for the next three. Nelly would cuddle up beside us in our bunk bed, her little body trembling, scared as our house made all these creepy noises.

Being out in the open sea all by yourself is a surreal experience. It feels like you are completely disconnected from the world. You just gotta go with the flow and have faith that everything’s gonna be alright, even though at night you can’t see what’s coming your way.

Once the sun was out and we spotted the shores of Spain, we raised our flag and could proudly say that we made it through our first overnight sail.

When El Burro stumbled upon El Bulli in the Bay of Montjoi

We felt exhausted when we entered the bay. After a quick power nap we were able to take in the beauty of nature around us and noticed we were surrounded by majestic green mountains, crystal-clear water and a beautiful beach.

Our El Burro was anchored in front of the former famous restaurant El Bulli, in a beautiful bay called Montjoi. All around our boat we could see the most colourful jellyfish and fish jumping out of the water, chased by a couple of seagulls.

We couldn’t wait to check out the scene once we dropped anchor, so we hopped in the dinghy and headed to shore. We found this cute little empty beach where we sat down to eat our homemade lunch and soak up the tranquil vibes.

Seeking shelter from the Mistral in Roses

They were predicting high winds again, so we had to seek shelter for a few days. We managed to secure a safe spot at a marina in Roses and first had to fill in the necessary paperwork presented by the marineros. After securing our boat, we went to a nearby supermarket to buy some tapas. When we arrived back to our boat, the sky darkened and raindrops began to fall, releasing a downpour unlike anything we had seen in months.

The next day we were greeted by the Mistral. Everyone was busy securing everything on board. We seized the opportunity to tidy up, do some laundry, check our food supply and make a shopping list.

When the Mistral died down a couple of days later, we bought bus tickets to Empuriabrava. This town looked a bit like Venice with all the canals running through it (without the gondolas and Italian charm of course). Almost every house had a boat parked on their terrace or in their garden.
We bought some lunch and sat on a bench, taking in the surroundings. Afterwards we stretched out on the sandy beach and found solace in gazing at the fluffy clouds, serenaded by the soothing melody of waves crashing onto the shore.
Being the adventurers that we are, we thought, “Hey, let’s walk back to Roses!” Nine kilometres and two hours later we arrived at our boat, very tired from the long walk. Not to mention that we had walked in the scorching sun without any water. Lessons learned…

A couple of Cala’s later…

Cala, a beautiful Spanish word meaning cove or small bay. And let me tell you, we stumbled upon some real hidden gems.

One such gem is Cala de Castell, where we anchored right in front of a stunning golden beach. During the day it was quite busy, with a regular coming and going of boats.
We hopped into our dinghy and paddled our way to the beach to embrace the serenity and soak up the warmth of the afternoon sun. In the evening we went on a sunset dinghy ride (something we do quite often), eagerly hoping to catch a glimpse of playful dolphins.

In Cala Futadera, we explored the nearby beach. As a landlubber, you can get there via a huge old staircase. But it’s really worth it, a hidden gem basically!
Our euphoria took an unexpected turn when Nelly got really sick in the evening and threw up everywhere. We spent the whole evening washing, scrubbing and drying things and taking care of her. Luckily, she felt a lot better the next day.

The wind picked up when we were anchored in Cala de Giverola with gusts of up to 25 knots. Our anchor started scratching and we were inching closer and closer to our neighbour. Just when we thought we’d have to re-anchor, our neighbour put more anchor chain giving us much needed space. Greg rowed the dinghy to their boat to help them dismantle and repair their outboard motor.
When the wind died down, we took our dinghy to go for a ride to Tossa de Mar and explored the caves along the coast.

… we made it to the awesome city of Barcelona

Barcelona, Spain’s second-largest city and the capital of Catalonia. It has been on our bucket list for quite some time to get here with our El Burro and visit this beautiful city.

We’ve set off early from Cala de Giverola, the sun was just starting to peek over the mountains. We raised anchor and started the engine since there was basically no wind. The water was so calm that it looked like a mirror.
After a long day, we saw the tall buildings of Barcelona. We grabbed our binoculars and scanned the skyline until we found the entrance to the port.

We were warmly greeted at Port Olympic and were lucky to secure a spot conveniently situated near the sanitary facilities. This port is just a stone’s throw away from Barceloneta beach and Frank Gehry’s famous Peix structure, which is supposed to represent a giant goldfish.

Barcelona is absolutely fantastic! The sun was almost always shining, the terraces were packed and filled with laughter and good vibes, the streets came alive with talented buskers, not to mention the countless charming restaurants and bars you can stumble upon.

During our amazing week in Barcelona, we walked more than 70 kilometers through this vibrant city. In every street there is something beautiful or interesting. From the lively Barceloneta and enchanting Gothic Quarter to the tranquil Parc de la Ciutadella and the overwhelming Sagrada Familia, Barcelona never failed to astonish us. We even took our bike to the outskirts of the city, where we visited the Parc del Laberint d’Horta.
On Sunday, we took advantage of the fact that most museums are free and visited the magnificent maritime museum of Barcelona. Highly recommended, by the way!

Just strolling through the city was an experience in itself. Exploring the streets is like stepping in a surreal world crafted by Gaudi. And after strolling, the many, authentic tapas bars welcome you to enjoy local specialities. Our favourite was Bar Celta Pulperia.

We were absolutely enchanted by Barcelona. Our time there was so incredible that leaving was bittersweet but we knew that other beautiful places awaited. So after a week, we untied our boat and sailed back to France.

An overnight passage to Port Napoleon

As I peered through the hatch, a rush of excitement filled my being. The clock struck midnight, and the night sky unfolded before me, decorated with countless stars. Every now and then I even spotted a shooting star. Behind our boat, luminous jellyfish glowed, leaving trails of light in the otherwise pitch-black water. I savoured every moment, as if stepping into another world.

The boat rocked gently, quite a difference to our initial night voyage when we smashed into every wave. This time it felt like we were gliding through calm waters, with moments where it seemed as though we were hardly even moving. Nelly came to lie cosily close to me when I slept and otherwise walked around happily, begging for food. It’s so nice to see her adapt to this unique adventure that we’ve embarked on together.

Since our departure in Barcelona, things had been going very peacefully and smoothly. We had hoisted the parasailor (our spinnaker) so we were sailing about 6 knots. At sunset, we stowed away the spinnaker and replaced it with our headsail and mainsail. We continued our sail with an average speed of 3.5 knots.

I enjoyed our overnight passage so much, even though I noticed after yet another watch that I haven’t had sufficient rest. It was challenging to drift off to sleep with all the sounds that could be heard in our boat. Waves gently smashing against our hull, the occasional flutter of sails, our autopilot making a whining noise,… Even putting in earplugs didn’t help. And when you finally did manage to fall asleep, the alarm went off not much later.

Fortunately, nature makes up for a lot. I could stare for hours at the water, the sky or the stars. It’s quite an amazing life we are experiencing, often a rollercoaster of emotions but I wouldn’t want to miss it at all.

After 29 hours of sailing, we arrived at Port Napoleon. Another passage successfully completed and more sailing experience gained.

Update 2024

Back to Mainland Spain after 15 months

Wow, what a journey it’s been since I first started this blog. Fifteen months of sailing all over the Mediterranean and I’m still trying to process it all.  We kicked things off in Port Napoleon, then set sail for Corsica, Sardinia, Sicily, mainland Italy and Greece, looping back around before heading to the Balearic Islands. As of early July 2024, we’ve finally made it back to mainland Spain. What a ride.

Sailing to Valencia

July 2024.
We left Sóller, Mallorca, just before the sun went down. The waves were pretty big, but coming from the right direction, so nothing too crazy. With just the genoa out, we were cruising along at about three knots, which was plenty for the moment. The forecast said the wind would calm down overnight and come back later. We’d see how things went once it got dark.

Winnie, our wind vane, took over steering for a while. But as the wind started to die, the rolling waves kept slapping the genoa against the rigging. Eventually, we gave in, fired up the engine, and shifted a bit south, hoping to catch that southern wind sooner. We left a bit of the genoa up to help steady the boat. Before long, the wind disappeared completely, and we were just motoring along at 3 to 4 knots. Behind us, the lights of Mallorca slowly faded away. The night was dark, no moon, just stars overhead keeping us company.

By sunrise, the waves had settled down. We rolled out the genoa and suddenly we were moving too fast. If we kept it up, we’d hit Valencia in the middle of the night. The sun came out and warmed the deck and the boat was sailing like a dream. Winnie needed a few tweaks here and there as the wind shifted, but she mostly held the course just fine.

As the day went on, the waves picked up again and the wind started to fade. I started feeling seasick and nibbled at some bread, hoping it would help settle my stomach. Nelly, our oldest cat, was somehow fast asleep up in the bow. Meanwhile, Finn, the younger one, kept himself busy pawing through the cat flap in the technical room. With the wind too weak to keep up with the waves, we switched the engine back on and left the mainsail up to help with the rolling. When the engine suddenly sputtered and stopped for a moment, our hearts dropped. It was a sharp reminder of how fragile everything can feel out here.

By the second sunrise, the sea was smooth as glass and there was barely a breath of wind. A container ship floated quietly in the distance, and finally, the Spanish coastline came into view. It hadn’t been the most enjoyable crossing. We’d run the engine way too much and had barely enough wind to sail. The rhythm of life on board had taken over and those special moments at sea felt harder to come by. Were we just too used to it now? Or was chasing those moments starting to feel like more effort than they were worth? Still, one thing was clear. We had made it to mainland Spain. We pulled into the welcome pier at the marina without any issues.

Our City Trip in Valencia

We had been looking forward to this stop for weeks. Our good friends Tineke and Jeroen came all the way from Belgium to visit us. It was exactly the boost we needed. Seeing familiar faces really lifted our spirits.

The reunion was just what we needed. We relaxed on the boat, swam at the beach, wandered the city and ate out. By night, the marina came alive, with nightclubs playing everything from reggaeton to house music. Earplugs became essential.

On Tineke’s birthday, we explored the Mercat Central de Valencia, an enormous indoor market with stalls overflowing with ham, cheese and the largest vegetables we had ever seen. The sensory overload was worth every euro spent. Next, we visited the Valencia Cathedral, which claims to house the Holy Grail, though they are only 99.9 percent sure. Later, we rented Valenbisi bikes, snacked on tapas and stumbled upon the preselection of the Fallera Mayor. Women in traditional Valencian costumes paraded on a catwalk. The city was full of surprises.

Another highlight of our time together was the Ciudad de las Artes y las Ciencias, where we learned about the moon, Mars and space travel. That evening, we watched the Fiesta de Moros y Cristianos parade, with extravagant costumes, dance and music, followed by a fireworks show in the main square.

For the last two days together, we took it easy. We walked and biked through Valencia, enjoyed a relaxing picnic in Túria Park, sipped on Agua de Valencia ( a refreshing cocktail made with cava, orange juice, vodka and gin) and soaked in the vibrant atmosphere of the city. As we strolled through the historic center, we laughed, talked and ate delicious food. On our final day, we immersed ourselves in nature with a visit to the botanical garden.

Saying goodbye to our friends was hard. If only we could freeze time.
Afterwards, we both felt a little lost. Laundry, shopping, refueling with diesel, … Life on a boat goes on.

Taking it Slow and Finding Our Way

As soon as we set sail again, the waves relentlessly pursued us, and what was supposed to be an exciting adventure quickly turned into a struggle. The boat’s motion, which once felt thrilling, now became uncomfortable. It was clear that this trip wasn’t going as we had hoped. Finn, feeling the impact of the rough seas, got sick, which only added to the frustration on board.

Just when we thought we might catch a break, the engine sputtered and died. After several unsuccessful attempts to restart it, we realised it wasn’t going to cooperate, leaving us stranded in the middle of the water with no solution in sight. We had reached our breaking point. The constant battle against the waves, the engine issues and the overwhelming sense of helplessness were taking a toll on us.

Our morale was at an all-time low. What we had expected to be an exciting journey was now feeling like a never-ending test of patience. When we set sail for Spain this time, our goal was to leave the Mediterranean behind and head out into the vast, open Atlantic. But as the days passed, we began to see things differently. We had become so focused on ticking off miles that we lost sight of why we started this journey in the first place. Sailing had turned into a checklist of distances, deadlines and the pressure to keep moving forward. It started to feel like we were slipping back into the grind we had left behind on land and the freedom we had once craved seemed to be replaced by another kind of deadline. So, we made the decision to abandon the plan and let the wind and our curiosity guide us wherever it might take us.

To the South

Sometimes you do not need a perfect plan. Just a direction and a reason. For us, that reason was Almerimar. An old friend was waiting for us there, someone we had not seen in a long time, and it felt like the right kind of destination. Not too far, but far enough to give us some space to think. We would make our way there and decide what came next once we arrived. That was the whole plan, and honestly, it felt good not having everything figured out. So we pointed the bow south and started hopping along the Spanish coast.

Each stop along the way had its own rhythm. Quiet anchorages, sleepy towns and spots where we could stretch our legs and stock up. The weather mostly played along, though the wind always had its own ideas. But that is part of it. You learn to go with whatever the sea gives you.

It was not just about getting to Almerimar. It was about giving ourselves the chance to slow down, to take it all in and to give the future some breathing room. Sometimes the best decisions are not made in a rush. They unfold, slowly.

Almerimar was waiting. And so was whatever came next.

A Stop in Almerimar

The journey to Almerimar was, to say the least, a strange one. As we approached, the tall buildings gradually faded into a sea of greenhouses. The landscape transformed into an endless patchwork of glass, stretching in every direction. It was both impressive and kind of ugly.

Just before reaching the marina entrance, we radioed the office on VHF channel 9. They responded quickly and directed us to moor right by the office, where a marinero was already waiting to catch our lines. It was time to check in and officially arrive.

We had barely settled into our berth when we spotted Peter walking toward us. The reunion was immediate and warm. It felt like no time had passed at all. We headed out together to a local tapas bar, where the drinks were cold and each one came with a tasty little snack for just 50 cents. Not a bad welcome.

That evening, Peter joined us on board for pizza. We traded stories late into the night, remembering how we first met. We had first seen him on the canals of France, and here we were again, floating side by side.

Evenings in Almerimar turned out to be more than we expected. Not just reunions, but new friendships too. We met Manon and Stephen from Kekilistrion and Melina and Artur from Propina. One night we played board games on Propina; the next we were on the beach eating burgers, swapping sailing stories and bits of knowledge like treasure maps.

As our days in Almerimar came to an end, we decided to anchor out for a final night or two. Then we set our sights on something new: a 90-mile sail to Melilla. A new continent. Africa. Peter decided to come with us, and just like that, a new chapter was ready to begin.

Sailing to Africa: Hello Melilla!

I rolled out of bed and jumped straight into boat mode. There was a quiet sort of hustle before departure, and I was already tidying things up and getting everything in order. Outside, Greg was deep into his own routine, making final checks. When you travel by boat, everything has to be secure, you don’t want stuff flying around when the sea gets rough. So, dishes got washed, the table got cleared and anything loose was tucked away. We took off the mainsail cover, double-checked the rigging and the engine, planned our route, looked at the weather and made sure there were no lines dragging in the water.

By noon, Greg headed off to pick up Peter. Once he returned, we hoisted the outboard and the dinghy on board, and just like that, we were ready to go. Ahead of us lay a 90-mile journey to Africa. Our destination was Melilla, which is technically still part of Spain, even though it sits on the African coast. This would be our first night crossing since sailing from Mallorca to Valencia.

We lifted the anchor, and within minutes, we were sailing. The mainsail and jib were up, the engine was off and the conditions were perfect. Peter looked thrilled. It had been a long time since he’d been out at sea. His boat’s engine had broken down a while ago, so he’d been stuck in Almerimar waiting for parts.

As we sailed, we spotted groups of striped dolphins hunting. It’s always magical to see them. We threw out a line and tried fishing for a bit, but had no luck this time. We decided not to set a watch schedule for the night and just took turns as we went. In hindsight, not the best idea. The lack of proper sleep hit us pretty hard.

During my night watch, I was quietly reading when I heard a strange noise. Something was swimming behind the boat. I heard the soft puff of a blowhole, a kind of “pppshoooew.” I glanced behind us and spotted a fin sliding under the water. My brain instantly jumped to orcas. I woke Greg and told him something big was back there. We grabbed a flashlight and waited. A splash, then another fin. We shone the light and saw it was just dolphins. Just dolphins. My heart kept pounding for a few minutes anyway.

Later, the wind dropped off completely. We started the engine again, and Greg disappeared back into bed. I stayed on watch, dodging ferries on their way to Morocco or Melilla. At one point, I saw one on the AIS set to pass only ten meters from us. That’s the length of our boat. I woke Greg again (sorry, Greg), and we adjusted course just in time.

As the sun rose, we spotted land on the horizon. A new continent. It was a strange and exciting feeling. On the way in, we spotted a floating inflatable giraffe and made a little detour to rescue it. Welcome to Africa.

Our phones were totally confused by the time zone. They kept switching back and forth between Moroccan and Spanish time. Melilla followed Spanish time, but we were so close to Morocco that the signal kept bouncing.

Around noon, we arrived in Melilla. The marineros greeted us warmly and we immediately noticed the heavy police and Guardia Civil presence. Melilla is a Spanish enclave on the African coast, bordering Morocco. It’s often in the news because of migration issues, with many people trying to cross the border into the European Union. The border is heavily fenced and guarded.

Melilla is an autonomous city, a bit like a region with its own special status. The population is a mix—about half Spanish or European, and the rest mostly Moroccan Muslims. There are also Jewish and Hindu communities. This blend of cultures made walking around the city feel really unique. It looked like Spain, but with a strong Moroccan influence too. It truly felt like we were somewhere in between.

The city was beautiful. There was stunning art deco architecture, long sandy beaches, and super friendly people. Everything was surprisingly affordable. We paid five euros a night for our berth, diesel was just over a euro per liter, and the whole place was tax-free.

The beach was a story in itself. Signs said no music, no smoking, no jumping off the rocks, but no one seemed to care. People were smoking, jumping, and playing music anyway. The vibe was chill.

What really surprised us was how few tourists were there. At times, it felt like we had the place to ourselves. It was peaceful and relaxed. We wandered through a few museums, admired the local plants and buildings, and explored the old part of the city. Would I recommend Melilla as a travel location? Definitely.

One last bit of excitement: our cat Nelly finally figured out how to jump off the boat. Luckily, we found her not too far away, tempted back with some treats. We knew we’d have to keep a closer eye on her from now on when docked.

And yes, we did end up crossing into Morocco. That turned out to be quite an adventure too.

Crossing into Morocco

(This part of the journey really doesn’t fit in the Spain blog, but I wasn’t sure where else to put it, so here we go.)

There’s nothing quite like the feeling of a new adventure, especially when that adventure takes you to a country that feels just around the corner yet completely different. That’s how our day started: crossing the border on foot from Melilla to Morocco.

The transition was surprisingly smooth. No long waits or complicated procedures. One minute we were in Spain, and the next, we were in a completely different country. The contrast was instant. While we walked through without any issues, we could see a long line of people waiting to enter Spain. The queue of cars seemed endless and patience was clearly key.

Dozens of Moroccan flags fluttered in the wind, almost like a welcome. Nearby, men sat on terraces, sipping mint tea, watching the border scene unfold with calm interest. And there we were, in Morocco, feeling excited and amazed by the sudden shift.

We were greeted warmly, not just by the border officer who stamped our passports, but by everyone we met along the way. “Bienvenue au Maroc!” was said to us a few times. We were an unusual trio, a Swede and two Belgians, but the kindness we received made us feel right at home.

After a quick look around Beni Ansar, we decided to take a taxi to the larger city of Nador. Finding a taxi was easy, and since many Moroccans speak French, communication was a breeze. For just six euros, we got a ride to Nador.

When we were dropped off, we realized we hadn’t really planned our visit. But honestly, that didn’t matter. We just let the day unfold. We wandered around and found a cozy spot for breakfast. It was a typical Moroccan breakfast: Harcha (crumbly bread made from semolina), msemmen (thin pancakes), yogurt, orange juice, and, of course, mint tea. The perfect start to our Moroccan adventure. Oh, and we also gained an hour since we were now in a different time zone.

After breakfast, we kept exploring. Nador is a lively city, filled with street vendors and bustling streets. We soaked in the energy, exchanged our euros for dirhams, and let the charm of the place take over.

At one point, we grabbed another taxi with a loose plan: we wanted to visit a mountain where there were supposed to be monkeys. We asked the driver to take us to Gourgou, not entirely sure if that was the right mountain. For ten euros, he agreed, though he found the destination a bit unclear. The ride turned out to be longer than we expected, and after some phone calls with his boss, we agreed on thirty euros for him to take us higher up the mountain and wait while we went for a walk. On the mountain, we passed a checkpoint where we asked some soldiers if there were any monkeys around. Sure enough, we were on the right mountain! They pointed us in the right direction and were surprised when we said we had come by taxi. We returned to our driver and climbed back into the car.

After a few more detours, we finally found the monkeys. A stall was selling peanuts, but the monkeys seemed more interested in the cake people were offering them. We spent some time there, enjoyed the moment, then asked our driver to take us back to Beni Ansar.

The drive back was beautiful. Mist crept over the winding mountain roads, giving everything a mysterious, almost magical feel. When we got to the border, we decided to enjoy one last mint tea on a terrace, just like the locals do, while watching the border activity. But soon, we noticed the line had gotten much longer. It was time to join the queue.

What followed was a long, hot four-hour wait in the sun with no access to a toilet. The mood in the queue shifted from patience to frustration, but despite the discomfort, people still looked out for each other. Finally, we passed through border control and, just like that, we were back in Spain, as though our time in Morocco had been a dream.

Sailing from Melilla to Almerimar

Leaving the port of Melilla, we immediately felt the swell hitting us. Finn, our cat, wasn’t feeling great. He tried to find a comfy spot but ended up in the litter tray, which was definitely not ideal. But hey, we figured we’d clean it up later. As we sailed further out of the bay, the sea began to calm, and so did Finn, who eventually settled down in his little spot.

Peter and Greg started fishing and it wasn’t long before we got a surprise visit from two large dolphins. They seemed curious about our boat, swimming alongside us for a while. It was such a cool moment. We turned off the engine and set course for Almerimar, aiming for a wind angle of about 55 degrees. Ray, our autopilot, took over and steered us at a steady pace of four knots.

By that time, Finn had been curled up in his litter tray for hours and we realized he was a bit too dirty for comfort. So, we decided it was bath time. After a quick rinse, he was all clean and snuggled up to me, more affectionate than ever. We watched the sunset together and he fell asleep in my arms. As night fell and Finn dried off, I tucked him safely inside, while Nelly peacefully napped in the bunk bed. Having cats on board definitely requires extra attention, but I wouldn’t want to change it for the world. We fired up the engine and sailed into the night.

Nighttime brought more excitement when a group of small striped dolphins joined us. For the first time, I got to see a baby dolphin swimming alongside our boat, and during Greg’s watch, they put on a little show for almost an hour. Greg told me the sight of their shadows under the water, lit by the moon and our navigation lights, was incredible. We still had enough wind to keep sailing and were cruising towards Almerimar at around three knots. Only 30 miles to go.

By sunrise, Almerimar was finally in sight. The wind was perfect and we flew towards the coast. We dropped anchor close to shore to get some extra shelter. The anchor chain was stuck in the locker, but after a bit of work, we managed to set it firmly at a depth of four meters with 25 meters of chain. Once we were settled, we tidied up the boat and cracked open a drink to celebrate our arrival. After that, we took Peter back to his boat and afterwards took a good nap.

We stayed anchored for a few nights, but the swell started getting a bit much. After a couple of days, we decided to seek shelter in the marina. The marinero gave us spot 228, right near our previous location and our new friends Stephen and Manon. We grabbed a quick pizza, caught up on some much-needed sleep (the swell hadn’t let us sleep much the night before), and then cleaned up before heading to the beach. The evening was filled with volleyball, drinks and lots of stories from fellow sailors.

The next day, we threw some fish on the grill for our last dinner in Almerimar. The cockpit was packed with good company: Stephen, Manon, Peter, and later Benjamin and Isabelle from Malou joined us. It was one of those lively, wonderful evenings that made us feel so connected to the sailing community.

Before leaving Almerimar, we had one last breakfast with Peter, shopped at Mercadona (which would never sound the same again—an inside joke with fellow sailors), and filled up our water tank. As we set sail, our neighbors waved goodbye. It was hard to leave, but we knew more adventures lay ahead.

Wind, Waves and Dolphins

After a few days anchored and docked in Almerimar, we were both excited and a little sad to leave. We had really enjoyed our time there, but now it was time to head back out onto the open water. Even though we’d miss our new friends, we had officially shelved our ocean adventure for the year and were setting our sights east, toward the Balearics.

The weather was perfect for sailing, so we decided to skip the nearby anchorages and go straight to Torrevieja. What was supposed to be a short, three-hour trip ended up turning into a two-day journey. Torrevieja has a sheltered bay where we could wait for a good weather window before continuing on to Formentera.

We let the windvane take the helm and got everything prepared: grab bag, life jackets and making sure the fridge was locked. The waves started picking up, and the boat began rolling a bit more. By sunset, the waves were even higher, pushing us along from behind. The wind was blowing at 20 to 25 knots, and while the boat was handling the waves better, sleeping was still tricky.

The next day was cloudy, and then the rain started. We were feeling pretty tired, but the boat was still on track. When the wind died down and the sails started to struggle, we fired up the engine. As the sun set, we were joined by a group of Risso’s dolphins with their unique scars and blunt heads. It was one of those moments that made everything feel worth it.
As night fell, we saw lightning in the distance and the rain picked up. The wind shot up to over 25 knots. I was in the middle of watching the movie The Mist and quickly moved inside. After about an hour, the wind dropped, but we had to start the engine again to keep us going.

In the morning, the sea was calm and the dolphins greeted us at the bow. The sun was trying to peek through the clouds and we were ready for a break. We arrived in Torrevieja’s anchorage, behind the breakwater, where there was plenty of space. We anchored in about six meters of water and took a moment to relax.

Torrevieja isn’t the most scenic place we’ve visited, but it’s sheltered and quiet, which made it a good place to hang out for a bit. After a few days, we thought our anchor was holding tight, until the boat behind us was showing alarmingly close. The owners told us our anchor was dragging. We quickly fired up the engine, moved to a new spot, and let out more chain to make sure we were secure.

Isabelle from Malou was also in the area, so we invited her over for dinner. A few days later, she gave us wingsurfing lessons, which turned out to be a lot of fun. We spent the evening with good food and even better company.

After a week in Torrevieja, it was time to move on. We were ready to get back to nature and set off for Formentera, the next step in our journey.