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Not yachting like a millionaire… part 2
Our next port of call is Atlantis, beneath the Torre de Savinar pirate tower and I feel confident from my recently acquired knowledge of the prevailing currents and the prevailing breeze that we’ll find perfect conditions for snorkeling in the little bay there. And I’m not wrong, but there’s nowhere to moor the boat and the sharp rocks around the water’s edge might pop our inflatable. The bosun valiantly fends us off from these whilst I consider the pile of rope attached to what looks like an anchor at my feet.
‘Eureka!’, it is an anchor so I throw it overboard. Once again everything appears to be under control as I confidently tie the rope to the outboard motor, whilst warding off visions of the boat popping on the rocks. This would mean having to carry the huge outboard motor and anchor up to the top of the path that leads down to Atlantis, which no sane person would even countenance.
We’re safe, the anchor’s got a grip and the water’s crystal clear. So clear, in fact, that we can see the carpet of sea anemones in perfect detail. Floating above them we can also see a jellyfish and then another, and so on.
By this time I’m desperate to relieve myself, and had been planning to do so under the cover of snorkeling. Cowardice takes over and I decide to turn the old wife’s tale on its head when the bosun asks me to pee on her leg. The look on my face must have prompted her to explain further…
Apparently this manoeuvre is more difficult for the female of the species, but in any event, the jury are still out on whether this is a good idea in the first place…
Apparently she got stung at the beach as we originally climbed into the boat, but had forgotten about it in the ensuing excitement of her elevation to bosun. Nonetheless, I daren’t take the risk that such an act might be raised at future dinner parties – I cunningly change the subject by peeing on the nearest jellyfish and discover, to my amazement, that the beast begins stinging itself to death. If only I’d drunk more – I could have cleared the entire bay of the vermin. I hear distant laughter and realize that the people sunbathing on the rocks don’t have much action upon which to rest their gaze. They must be laughing at the bosun trying to kill the many remaining jellyfish with her oar, rather than my manhood.
In any event out of the breeze it’s getting hot, so we decide to raise the anchor and proceed, much to the relief of the assembled jellyfish. At least that was the plan – the anchor is on a different agenda. It seems perfectly happy down there making friends with the starfish, despite our pleadings.
As Master and Commander of the vessel I experiment with the gears whilst tugging on the anchor chain from various directions, always with an eye on the sharp rocks and another on the long steep path out of here. Eventually that factor that makes homo sapien the dominant species on the planet – luck – cut in and the anchor came out. Fortunately the adventure wasn’t going to end in tears at 3:30pm.
We posed briefly for more lucky tourists on the other side of Atlantis whilst studiously taking in the different perspectives you gain from the sea and then began to head back along the coast towards Cala d’Hort. Halfway back we spot a boat much like ours pulled up onto a beach inaccessible by any other means. What a good idea the bosun decides, and soon after she spots a smaller but similar line of sand. “That’ll do for parking whilst we give the snorkels a workout – after all it’s only 3:30 and the boat doesn’t have to be back till 5.”
Personally I’d rather whizz around in the nice deep water while the bosun attempts to take photos as we bounce from one wave crest to another, but I do the decent thing and manoeuvre the boat majestically in between the shallow rocks towards the beach.
We’re almost there, but the submerged rocks are turning into a maze whilst the wind and current are turning this manoeuvre into a three-dimensional game of chess. I decide to abandon macho self-confidence and dispatch the bosun to leap into the water and push the boat away from the imminent rocks. After all it was her idea to park here in the first place…
She promptly slips on the rocks and disappears beneath the boat for what appears to be a voluntary keel-hauling. Swiftly, I recall words of wisdom from my grandfather “if you want a job doing properly – do it yourself”, so I abandon ship too.
By this time I’ve realised that it can’t still be 3:30pm, this feels more like a lifetime, but I’m now in a life and death situation. I may be called upon for courage above and beyond the call of duty at any moment. As I await the call I realise that my new iPhone is in this boat! I lift the boat off the rocks and push her out to sea in defiance of the mighty current and with Herculean strength.
Fortunately there are no witnesses as I clamber back into the boat at the third attempt completely exhausted and navigate the vessel out to deeper water.
The bosun is still floundering in the shallows with her watch on when it occurs to me that it was probably 3:30 when she leapt into the sea to touch Es Vedra… She’s shouting what may be an apology, but I have a decision to make – should I throw her the anchor or a rope… In an insane act of benevolence I opt for the rope.
Checking my precious iPhone I discover that it’s almost 5 o’clock as she reaches the boat and fails miserably to clamber aboard. I make an executive decision, attach her to a rope and tow her back to Tony who’s anxiously scanning the horizon from the beach. It’s not going to be the most impressive of triumphant returns, but it might score in the sympathy stakes.
My ploy proves successful – our 100euro deposit is returned in full and I feel confident that the boat will say nothing.
The bosun and I laughed so much at the bar as we recalled our adventure that we cried. We must have had more fun in that single afternoon than all of the experienced mariners in the Med put together. Our experience also seems to have inspired those around us. As we sit giggling and recovering from our exertions we watch three more boats depart with the wife being encouraged by an obviously bored husband.
We don’t await their return – we can’t wait to get home and check out the photos of our adventure on a big screen… Nonetheless, as Master and Commander, I explain the complex decision making processes required when at sea, and demote her to ‘seaman’.
For guaranteed fun in an inflatable speedboat that can carry up to four people, none of whom need a license or previous experience!
Call Toni Pujoleti Tel: 696 40 60 71
Hours: 11 am – 8 pm
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