Palma, what a Seu and Seu

A strong north easterly was still forecast but it seemed fine in the harbour and as we headed out it was virtually flat calm. Phew. It might get a bit bumpy round the cape and into the Bay de Palma, we thought, but it wasn't far to the shelter of the huge naval and commercial port. I took the helm and we motored for an hour and a half without much bother, several other yachts heading the same way. Then we came to the cape and things began to change. The water became choppier and the wind strengthened, on the nose. Not far to go though, we thought. As the waves increased in size, on went the life jackets and out came the safety lines to clip us on. George was put on the helm and I decided perhaps I'd like to lie down below. Chris was happy to keep watch. I can barely read the 1300 log entry that he made, but the first word is YUK!

With only about three miles to go, and the outer breakwater visible Chris called below to say he thought we had better divert to Portals. With that, a huge wave surged over the bow and the noise was enough for me to readily agree. 31 knots of wind showed up on our indicator, a Force 7! We were motoring at under 3 knots at times and so turning west was a sensible choice and in around 40 minutes we were in calm water outside Portals deciding what to do. We chose to anchor in the shelter of the marina breakwaters until the weather calmed down a bit and then maybe go to Palma later that evening or the following morning. 
That evening, the crews of two other British yachts in the anchorage visited us. They have been in the Balearics for several years and it appears they now rarely go anywhere else other than this spot or one nearer Magaluf, where they can buy cheap food and beer and soak up the sun. "Lunatic Town" one of them called it, so we decided to leave them to it and move onto Palma! The sea and wind had calmed dramatically and I was happy to helm the few miles up the coast. We tied up on the waiting pontoon and then discovered we were too late to be checked in and we had to stay there the night, OK but a bit lumpy with all the comings and goings of the pilot boats and tankers!

We were allocated a berth efficiently the next morning but they offered no help with the mooring and I felt rather pleased with myself when I managed to get off the bow of the boat and sort out the lines without the assistance of a marinero. We were next to "Lara", but Trevor and Fiona seemed to be away and the boat was put to bed. We basically had a day and a half to get La Premiere in a fit state for a visitor so the aft cabin had to be spring cleaned and tidied enough to take a single sleeping bag. Shopping had to wait until Monday and to my annoyance, the same morning when I planned to wash my hair, there was no water in the whole marina. I had to wash it in a bucket in the cockpit, but it worked and so I as reassured that I could manage without "proper" facilities.

Tessa arrived Monday afternoon and we went for a stroll into the old part of the city where we found a tourist info office to obtain the train timetables for a trip on an antique train to Soller, on the north of the island. That was what we planned to do the following day, giving the weather a chance to settle down a bit before taking Tessa out on her first sailing experience. 
The train journey was amazing, travelling through olive, orange and lemon groves, a dozen or more tunnels and into the spectacular craggy mountains of the north of Mallorca. The train consisted of antique carriages, reminding me a bit of an Agatha Christie novel, pulled by a classic looking engine. It was pretty uncomfortable at times and fairly slow...could have been back Britain! On reaching Soller we were feeling peckish and decided to stop for some tapas, but failed to find a local back street place and had to plump for a tourist trap bar in the main square, and the tapas unfortunately were disappointing. Between us, Tessa and I had got it into our heads that it was feasible to walk to Puerto Soller and we headed off in the right direction. Nearly an hour later, in the heat of the afternoon sun we arrived, vowing to take the tram back up for the return train journey to Palma.

Puerto Soller had a distinctly slow pace and although there were quite a few people on the beach it was quiet and civilised. We ate ice cream, wandered around to the fishing port and had coffee, sat and watched life go by and then clambered aboard the tram for the return trip. Tessa had promised to take us out for a slap up dinner and we decided that rather than search around for ages looking for somewhere, we would eat at The Real Club Nautico. Suitably spruced up after our day trip we were shown to a table overlooking the marina and we ordered our food as the sun set behind the hills. The service was superb, and we were astonished at the size of our starter dishes, having already nibbled freshly roasted almonds with our champagne. Main course and desert were equally good and stuffed full we slept well that night.

Our final day in Palma was spent exploring the tourist sites, such as the magnificent cathedral, which was radically reorganised at the beginning of the 20th century by the architect Gaudi. Some of his designs were frowned upon at the time, particularly the cork and cardboard construction hanging above the alter, said to represent the crown of thorns. I rather liked it, and imagine it looked even more impressive when illuminated during services. The stained glass windows created a rather kaleidoscopic light in the high vaulted nave and I was content to sit for quite some time, soaking up the atmosphere. In the back streets, behind the cathedral we found the Hammam, (Moorish Baths) the little remaining evidence of the Moorish occupation of the island. 
We topped up our supplies, collected our laundry and planned our voyage to Cala Pi that afternoon and treated Tessa to a game of cards with Ian and Jo in the evening. After all, she had to see what live aboard life was really like!