Menorca Continued

Upon entering Cala Morell from the sea, one is instantly struck by the beauty of a wind worn arch conspicuous just inside Punta d’es Elefant on the southwest side of the entrance. Steep cliffs enveloped us as we dropped anchor in the center of the cala. The anchor bit securely the first time we set it in the sandy bottom. A smattering of sun bathers idled on a small beach at the head of the cala. All-white, flat-roofed dwellings uniformly dotted to slopes above us, clearly part of a planned community.

Everywhere on Menorca, people have taken care to build in a manner compatible with the surroundings. You won’t find high-rises here, only carefully thought out communities that fit with nature. The entire, 270-square-mile island is a Unesco biosphere reserve, a designation issued in 1993 for the rich flora and fauna that thrive in Menorca’s forests, gorges, wetlands, salt marshes, and hillsides. In 2004, Unesco expanded its protective reach, including in its definition the island’s widely scattered prehistoric sites, effectively preventing the construction of high-rise condominiums and hotels. Instead, rural hotels called agrotourismos are the tourist destinations of choice outside the towns, and roughly 120 separate beaches – more than Mallorca and Ibiza combined – remain largely unsullied by development. The people here are also way ahead of the crowd on sustainability practices and friendliness to the planet. For example, in every neighborhood we saw separate recycling containers not only for plastics, metals, and paper products but also for organic waste.

Into this utopia skyed John Renna and Jackie Addis, our new crew.  It was fitting that their leg aboard Windleblo started in such a pure, unadulterated place. One of our longest and dearest friends, John is an instantly likeable guy. As neighbors in Albuquerque more than 20 years ago, we helped rear each other’s children, developing a strong bond in the process. John always revealed himself as a caring, do-anything-for-you person.  Jocelyn often comments, tongue in cheek, that most of my guy friends are jerks when it comes right down to it (a little female chauvinism at work here). My standard reply is that that’s why I keep them as friends, so I look better by comparison. Well, John Renna is in a different league. Whenever I do something jerky, Jocelyn might ask, “Why can’t you be more like John Renna?” He’s a class act.

John’s life partner, Jackie, is also a gem. She is a natural healer, someone who easily tunes in to another person and helps them. Both John and Jackie are physical therapists by profession. Jackie also practices and teaches Dahn yoga and while on board Windleblo led us through several sessions. In season, John and Jackie volunteer for the adaptive ski program at Sandia Peak near their home in Tijeras, New Mexico, helping disabled people ski. Like many New Mexicans, they enjoy wilderness and especially wild and scenic river running. Over the years, even after we moved away from Albuquerque, we would get together with them for a river trip from time to time, most recently the Dolores River in southwest Colorado just prior to starting our cruising life four years ago. Now was their chance to experience the Windleblo. They had volunteered to help us move the boat from Menorca to Sardinia, a voyage of about 250 nautical miles.

Jackie Leading Yoga at Cala Morell

We spent six days exploring Menorcan water and land with them, anchoring in Cala Morell, Puerto Nitge, and Puerto Addaya and taking mooring balls at Puerto Fornells and Illa de Colom. To help them get their sea legs, we ran heave-to and backing-out-of-irons exercises and man-overboard and rapid tacking drills on their first two day sails. We snorkeled the edges of the calas to survey the underwater world while at anchor and we teamed in Puerto Addaya for a mast ascension to inspect the standing rigging before crossing to Sardinia.

View of Windleblo from the Top of the Mast

On land, we strolled the shops and sampled Menorca’s signature gin drinks in the towns at every mooring. From Fornells, we toured the island’s interior by bicycle, pedaling to the small town of Es Mercadal along the flanks of Monte Toro, Menorca’s highest point at 358 meters (1,174 feet). To keep our climb inland gradual, we took a route that hugged the coast before turning along dirt roads that followed a creek inland. We were soon surrounded by fertile agricultural fields. Most noticeable were the vineyards, but the Menorcan soil seemed to revel in its ability to make anything grow. From rosemary bushes, thyme, lavender, and chamomile to yucca trees, blackberry bushes and succulents that shoot up through rock crevices, both wild and cultivated plant life thrived. Fruit trees were plentiful, as were a robust species of wild olive trees locals call ullastres. Later, I read that the island is home to about 220 species of birds, 14 varieties of orchid and 1,000 species of plants, some 60 of which are endemic to the island. Along the way, signs pointed out paths to mysterious prehistoric burial and prayer sites called talayots and navatas from the Bronze Age and earlier, built of stones arranged into T-shaped monuments or igloo-like structures. There are, I read, more of these ancient ruins on Menorca than anywhere else in the world.

We paused in Es Mercadal to enjoy the menu del dia at a modest restaurant in the town square. I read in Michener’s Iberia that by Spanish law, every restaurant in Spain must offer a menu del dia at a reasonable price that includes a starter, an entrée, dessert, bread, water, and wine. This law dates back to the Franco era, originally intended to ensure the common working man at least one square meal a day. Today, the menu del dia is sometimes called the menu turistica as a way to attract tourists who know a bargain when they see one, even if inflation has increased the price from €8 to €10 or €12 (around $16). For this price, I enjoyed a delicious calamari salad, grilled dorado with vegetables, bread with olive oil, sparkling water, and red wine, capped off by flan for dessert. Magnifico!

Open Air Market in Fornells

After an abbreviated siesta on a bench in the town square, we pedaled back to Fornells under a blistering sun.  It was good we were on a mooring ball as the winds had kicked up and we slept better knowing we were firmly secured to the bottom. On the down side, a fair bit of swell worked its way into the mooring field, causing the boat to roll uncomfortably overnight, interrupting sleep somewhat.

After a few land excursions, we had yet more reason to admire John and Jackie’s style. They would not let us pay for anything! I wrestle with how to handle money issues when friends come aboard to crew. I am loath to call them guests, as we are not running a B&B and expect them to take a full share of duties while aboard. Toward this end, we have developed a duty roster, adapted from my training aboard the Mahina Tiare III and described elsewhere in this blog. Since our inaugural season, Jocelyn and I have no reservations introducing the duty roster to newly arriving crew during their orientation to the boat. But for some reason, I am uncomfortable addressing how expenses will be handled, despite advice from countless cruising guides to do so before crew arrive so they know what is expected of them. When initially inviting them back home, I usually say something vague like, “Europe is very expensive, so bring plenty of money,” not clarifying how they should help with expenses while on board.

Well, John and Jackie knew intuitively what was right. They understood that we had gone to great expense to afford them the opportunity to cruise with us. Obviously, there are the monumental costs of owning and keeping a cruising sailboat in a foreign land. But they also appreciated that prior to their arrival we had stocked the boat with food and grog knowing that we would all prefer our first impressions to be of sailing and tourist excursions rather than trips to the grocery store. In response, whenever the bill came for restaurants or for the eventual reprovisioning, they insisted on paying and we let them. To endear themselves to us further, within a day of their arrival they offered meaningful gifts, unique totem stones they had purchased for us in Hawaii earlier this summer, a green jade sea turtle for me and a blue quartz dolphin for Jocelyn , complete with a description of character traits of each.

We tucked in early on the night of August 9^th, knowing the dawn would find us casting off for Sardinia.