Formentera

It was a relief to leave San Antoni, even without a telephone. Not far to the south is the quiet island of Formentera, where we found anchorage in a snug little bay on Isla Espalmador. Miss Perfect swam while I ate Prozac by the handful and dozed.

The days are hot and humid. Sunset comes as a blessing. In the morning the cockpit is drenched with dew. I sit in pre-dawn light with coffee and pretend to smoke a cigarette. I have been wondering whether I could roll and smoke one of those Nicorette skin patches but so far haven’t succumbed to the idea.

The west coast of Formentera is just a long sandy beach. There must be several hundred vessels at anchor here – 3 masted timber schooners, 500 foot long gentleman’s motor yachts, cruising yachts of every known description, bling boats with blue underwater lighting, and macho-man runabouts. But for all that, it is a relief to be away from those rafts of EVSC charter yachts which fill Adriatic waters. And there is plenty of room for us all, even the catamarans with 500 passengers.

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Formentera beachfront

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At 6 tonight we leave for Alicante, 90 miles across the Ibiza Channel on the Spanish mainland.

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