Captains Blog 20 Jellyfish are not our friends!!

After inviting ourselves to dinner on Nike, a kindly act to help dispose of the tuna caught by Karin and Erling on the passage to Calpe, we settled down for the next leg of our journey, crossing to the Balearics.

We left Calpe around 7:30am. No wind so we motored and it wasn’t long before the Viking long boat caught and overtook us. As they sped away, the wind started to build from the North East. Soon both sails were raised and at around 13 knots the engine went off and we started to make ground. It continued to build up to 20 knots and it wasn’t long before we overtook the long boat, in yo face Nijad!! It was our best sail to date, making 6-7 knots and reaching the anchorage in Ibiza well ahead of schedule.

The anchorage was in a lovely bay west of Ibiza town. There was a proper hippy vibe to it, with naked folk on boats and beaches. Perhaps a swimwear emporium nearby would be beneficial. We spent the next day there swimming and snorkelling off the back of the boat before heading up the North West coast. Another good sail and a couple of gybes saw us flying along at 7.5knots.

It was noticeably busier as we approached San Antonio with fast motor boats leading to the sea being choppy and confused, much like myself. We anchored off a small island next to the Swedish Secret Service and once things calmed down Erling swam over to us. “Hi Erling, come aboard”, “no thank you”, “what’s up”? “I’m naked”, “Okay, stay where you are then”, “I will”. We still managed a lengthy chat despite the distraction!

Access to the island was prohibited to help protect wildlife, so when I saw the couple from the French boat heading over the next morning I was intrigued. They moored their dinghy and off they trotted presumably for a nose around. Meanwhile, a rib with some rangers arrived and it wasn’t long before they were over inspecting our anchor to ensure we weren’t damaging the seagrass. We got the okay, so did Nike and also the French boat, but where were the occupants? The rangers moved into a small bay and one positioned himself just behind a small outbuilding by the only path and waited.

Tension built as the French couple came over the brow of the small hill approximately 200 metres from the hidden ranger. The ranger had spotted them and lay in wait. They got closer, oblivious to the situation. I reckoned on things getting nasty within minutes. Nearly there, nearly there and they’re there. And now they’re past. “C’mon mate, I’ve committed good time to watching this and been banking on some heated action”! At last he sprung, snuck up behind them and, well, had a bit of a chat. No shouting or arm waving in true Mediterranean fashion. All very disappointing.

Time to go, so we left with sails up on a dead run (wind directly behind) to a small bay on the North West tip of Ibiza. It was a cracking spot with around 8 other boats and a lot of people with a very lax attitude towards swimwear. We needed a swim and the first mate was in like a shot with her snorkel and mask. I followed, adopting this more “relaxed” approach and quickly dived off the back of the boat. A decision I was about to regret!

Within the bay were a small number of Jellyfish. Not big ones, in fact quite small at around 100-150mm diameter. Should be easy to avoid then. The first mate had swum over to me just before the attack. The jelly must have lain in wait, appalled by what it could see and decided it had no other option. It stung me right at the top of my right thigh, just about buttock territory. I instinctively raced back to the boat and found the large red mark that stung in a similar way to a burn. It took a long time for the discomfort to subside and I was left with a mark that would take weeks and weeks to go. I have since renamed this bay Jelly B#####d Bay and all Jelly’s will be referred to as Jelly B#####ds from this day forth.

The lesson from all this, which we all need to note is that swimwear is an essential part of personal protective equipment and should never be omitted. Ever.

Next time we sail to Mallorca.

Adios Amigos