Spain-Ibiza, July 31, 2011

Sunday, we left for Ibiza, the party island of Spain. It was a 10 hour trip so we tried to leave
around 8:30. light winds again which required us to motor with the jib most of
the way. Ibiza
proved to be so expensive we were happy we were only there for one night. Our slip was 150 Euro’s for one night! Ken and Molly wanted to check out the famous
nightclubs and disco’s that are always connected to Ibiza’s
reputation. Paula made Steak Fajita’s
for dinner and after a short nap, Ken and Molly departed for the disco at
12AM. Going any earlier, the disco would
be empty or not opened yet. Things don’t
really get going until 2 or 3AM! Too
late for me for sure!!! I think they did
get back to the boat around 3:30 in a daze of the huge crowds and beautiful
people at the disco!

Monday, August 1st, Ken and I did a bit of a tour of Ibiza’s old city and walked to the top of their
citadel. We sure get our walking
exercise up and down steep grades on this trip!
Monday, August 1st, Ken and I did a bit of a tour of Ibiza’s old city and walked to the top of their
citadel. We sure get our walking
exercise up and down steep grades on this trip!

Our boat in the Ibiza Harbor. Most expensive slip we have ever paid for!

View from the Citadel

Spain-Palma Mallorica, July 29-30, 2011

Thursday was a day sailing 11-15 kt winds and we averaged
boat speed 6-7 kts. Listening to George
Winston we had the pleasure of several dolphin sightings and one sea
turtle. We are heading to Palma
Mallorica to meet up with our lovely French friends, Guy and Renee. They have their boat Cashu and it’s crew there to participate in the
Copa del Rey Regatta. (we did this one last year).

Guy, Kristine, Ken, Renee, Molly, Paula and Fred

Taking the blender "on the road"

Arriving Friday in Palma,
we found a perfect berth in one of the Quay side marinas just a short walk to
the Yacht Club that host the regatta. We
met up with Guy and Renee and 2 of their crew on Friday and made plans to bring
our blender, fruit and ice to their boat later Saturday. They would provide the RUM! With their 12 crew members and the 5 of us,
we celebrated on Cashou in the Grateful Red, gas powered blender style!

Kristine, Renee, Paula and Molly

Molly's Camel Story!

We had finished all the chores that needed to get done in
the port of Tabarka - including a nice long hot shower, laundry shopping, and
getting, (yet another) bag of ice from the local fishery.

It was now mid-afternoon, and we were leaving first thing the next morning. We didn't
have enough time that afternoon to head off into the Tunisian countryside to visit some ancient ruins, but there was enough time (there's always enough time) to ride some camels.

The 2007 Lonely Planet guidebook said that we could catch a taxi to the Golf Resort Hotel, and the camel rides were supposed to be right next to the entrance. You should know in Tunisia that most folks speak Arabic and some French. Sometimes a little English. We told the
taxi driver (in our horrible French) that we wanted to go to the Golf Resort Hotel. And we were off. Ten minutes later, we pulled into the driveway of the now defunct Golf Resort Hotel. No camels anywhere.
We tried to tell him that we wanted to ride camels - but the only word I could remember was horse. Didn't know "ride" or "camel." Hey, French was back in high school! So we
pantomimed riding, and told him horses with (pantomimed) humps - and he says
"Chamaeux! " Of course - camels!

Off we went again, and three minutes later we were happily tipping the driver too much as he dropped us off at the entrance to the Camel Stables. The stable manager promptly informed us that he was fully booked, - there was not enough time for us to have the two hour tour - and
we should come back tomorrow. We explained (in horrrible French) that we were
leaving on a boat the next day, yada yada yada...

Just then, three camels came sauntering in - camels saunter, don't you know - carrying a family.
They dismounted, and the father overheard heard our conversation. He jumped right in. He explained our situation in fluent Arabic, and bullied the owner into offering us a twenty minute ride. Great!
We'll take it!

We climbed onto our beasts (no small feat - these animals are tall) and off we went on our little camel train. A guide led Fred's camel, I was in the middle, and Paula was on the caboose. We sat on comfortable poof-poofs, that created a seat behind the camels' humps. This meant your legs had to straddle the hump in front of you. The motion was not unlike the motion of the boat on small swells, and quite rythymic in a way. I made friends with Paula's camel, as his head was right next to my thigh. He had a muzzle on (probably not a bad idea, considering what I know of
the camels reputation for spitting and biting) but his head was soft and fuzzy,
and the perfect height for petting with my hand. Off we went onto to the paved road that ran along the tourist hotels. These tourist hotels were like the ones you might see in Florida - beautifully landscaped, overlooking the sandy stretch of beach - lovely really. But apparently the "forest ride" that our guidebook promised was a bit outdated, and now our beasts of burden carried us past the housing development in progress. Young Tunisians flew past us in clusters on
their rented ATVs, kicking up dust and fumes. We laughed at the irony of it all - we were longing for a cultural experience, and they were too. We laughed an awful lot during our ride. The sight of Fred's butt swaying ahead of me, and Paula taking pictures behind me, the unexpected scenery - it was all hysterical when you are bobbing along on a Chamaeux.

Our twenty minute ride stretched to about 40 minutes (camels saunter, you know) and we were all starting to think - OK that's enough. The thighs have had enough. We returned to the stables, slid (a long way) down to the ground, and happily paid the manager. A true adventure.

The walk back to town was quite an adventure too, but of a different sort. We had somewhat lost track of how far away we were from the Grateful Red, and thought it would be nice to stretch our legs. We were in the Tourist Zone, so feeling somewhat safe, we decided to walk back to
the harbor. The hotels were beautiful, as was the stretch of beachfront beyond
them. The waves were rolling in on the shore, and the sun was starting to set. What struck us was how disconnected everything seemed. There were piles of garbage in some of the public areas, and some of the modern amenities (like the dive center) were recently closed and barren. It was
like there was a time when this place was hopeful and popular, but now it was stuggling to survive. I don't know whether it was the Revolution that changed things, or what. But there was a strange sense that it was a recent change. We passed two teenagers waiting for a taxi, and they told us how happy they were to see us - they miss the tourists... This was not the first time Tunisians had said to us that they were glad that tourists were back to visiting.

We finally (4 or 5 miles later!) made it back to our section of Tabarka, starving for some dinner. Street food it was, and we stopped at a sandwich stand we had spied that morning. They made homemade Schwarma flatbread. The lovely young girl cooked our bread on a skillet -
then the stand operator filled it with (just about) everything you could imagine. Some unnamed Meat that rotated on a rotisserie behind him, vegetables, olives, Harissa hot sauce, mayo, french fries (yes, IN the sandwich) cheese, hard boiled egg... Then they wrapped the bread around
it, and wrapped it in paper. A bottle of water from a neighboring shop, and for
$1.50 each we were in hog (maybe it was hog, maybe it was chamaeux) heaven.

Dinner was capped off by a trip to the waterfront crepe maker. He was Algerian (the flag flew over the stand) and quite the flirt. We looked at the three choices on the menu, and asked for a
chocolate almond crepe. No chocolate almond. Chocolate caramel? No. Chocolate? OK. He made quite a production over cooking the crepe, and a line of customers grew behind us as we waited.
It seemed Americans were good for business everywhere we stopped - the same thing had happened at the sandwich stand. It was totally worth the wait - a hot chewy crepe, dripping with chocolate...a complete mess, but worth having to redo laundry for.

So our Tabarkan adventure came to a close; sore thighs, sore feet, full bellies and full hearts.

The End.

Camels and Tabarka, Tunisia

We ended up staying a additional day and explored the city and surrounding area. Molly, Fred and Paula went off to ride camels and Ken and I took a taxi to one of the Resort Hotels down the beach and found some great internet. They let us sit in the beautiful lobby for several hours working on our computers. Ken knew that I had been frustrated with no internet and this was our solution. When we were finished, we instructed our taxi driver to take us to a nice restaurant somewhere on the route back to the harbor. After eating, we were close enough that we walked back to our hotel and got ready for a 6AM departure to Algeria planned for the next morning.

As with every departure, customs seems to take longer than
you want. Ken and Fred had to go to the
Port Authorities to get our paperwork back and they were gone almost one
hour. I thought for sure that something
bad had happened, but no, just the slow process of Customs.
We finally got to leave and headed out with 65 nautical miles to go for the day.

Bizerte and Tabarka Tunisia, July 23-24-25-26

Bizerte.
Leaving Golfe de Tunis, we sail up and around to Cap Blanc where we stop for the night at a small harbor with the main population being fishing boats (again). It was a good 9 hour sail. The winds were varied most of the day and out of the North-East never giving us a good opportunity to sail with the Spinnaker. Winds of 10-25 kt gusts had us sailing with a furled jib most of the time. We arrived in Bizerte, Tunisia almost at dark(sorry, no pictures due to our quick stop there) and did not plan to do any “looking” around because we had to leave early in the next morning for Tabarka. Fred and Ken went with the customs person that had greeted us to do the normal paperwork, and Molly went off with our ice bag in search of some ice for our “still not working” refrigerator. The fishing buildings were close and so she did not have to go far. We were in a very exposed area just along the beginning edge of the jetty where many, many locals were fishing. Unfortunately, Bizerte harbor was littered and dirty and did not entice us to go out to venture.

Sailing to Tabarka would also be a long day with much the same coastal view. Arrived in Tabarka and found a nice sized harbor complete with naval ships, and a bustling community along the quay. Very little options for docking we pulled along the quay what turned out to be reserved for the coast guard boats. When we first circled into the harbor, a man was waving at us and motioning that we should tie up along side another sailboat.



This was the French sailing boat that we first saw in Sidi Daoud harbor. The owner and his wife were not on the boat and we did not feel comfortable tying up without their being available to assist, but as it turned out it was our only option and soon proved to be a good decision. When the couple returned they were most gracious and helped us with many logistic questions on the area. They had been in Tabarka before and were planning on staying for several days. During our stay the captain lent his hand-cart and water jug to us which we used to fill our water bottles with. The only hose that had good water was at the beginning of the harbor and a bit of a walk so the hand cart came in handy.

Our French Boat neighbors with some of their friends

Molly filling our water bottles
With several days from our last good shower and good night sleep Ken suggested I go look for a hotel for the night. I found a small, clean hotel (Hotel la Plage) for 70 denar that SAID they had internet, but I never got it working, even in the lobby so again, connection with home had to wait. Not having a good access to laundry, we used our bathtubs in the hotel as our laundry and then took our wet clothes back to the boat to hand and dry.

Drying our laundry on/and in the boat (threat of rain)

Vacationing Tunisian family

Algeria, City of Collo

Collo harbor, South of Cap Collo, has a “greeting” dock
complete with Coast Guard station.
Apparently, all boats, must be acknowledge by the Coast Guard before
coming in or going out. Leaving the
harbor, they just have to “flagged” an acknowledgement by the Coast Guard and
then they can go on with their business.

Once tied up, we were visited finally by the local Police,
Coast Guard, and the Algerian Navy officials.
We were never completely sure who was in charge as they all had their
set of requests. During some of the
paperwork and questioning, I was asked by the Algerian Naval officer to show my
camera. He wanted to see what pictures I
had on my camera. I turned on my camera
and scrolled through my countless pictures of the Algerian water and
shorelines, plus I think there were also some pictures of dolphins. I think he was satisfied that I did not have
pictures that would damage the Algerian countries integrity. Some of our additional questioning was
focused on our missing Visa’s that were required to go beyond the harbor and
the fact that Molly’s husband was not sailing with us. The authorities did not understand why a married
woman would be on our boat and her husband was not along with her. They asked repeatedly, “where is your
husband”? I think they are still
wondering about that!

Once we were settled, we then negotiated for ice, fuel and
water. The harbor “master” (or the one
who seemed to be in control of the fuel dock and such) arranged for me to get a
big bag of ice and some fresh water. He
then invited Fred and I into his office.
He was quite proud of his pictures of Mohammad Ali and Che Guevara and
the many pictures of Collo in the early 1900’s.
He asked Fred and I to sign his “guest book”, and with pleasure we did
and realized we were the first to sign in the book! Later, Ken and Fred traded one Grateful Red
hat and one GR tee-shirt for 20 liters of diesel.

Our plans were to leave around 11PM to do our overnight to Spain (Palma
Mallorica) and so we contacted the Coast Guard dock to let them know we would
be leaving then. There were other
fishing boats going out at night so the Coast Guard dock was active and well
lit. We said our good byes and headed
out to a night of motoring with the Jib
sail up. Over the night our shifts were
sail one hour, watch one hour and then off 3 hours. By this time I am very tuned to overnight
sails although, I will be happy not to do any more in my life if
possible….well, don’t think that will happen!

ALGERIA, August 26-27, 2011 City of Chetaibi

Algerian Water border patrol checking us out

Tuesday’s sail gave us no wind, but lovely sunny skies. Tabarka is located close to the Algerian border and it wasn’t long before we were actually in Algerian waters. This was made clear to us with the approach of a very large military boat complete with guns on the deck. We had been ready for our arrival in Algeria by putting up the Q flag on our port side shroud and the Algerian flag on the Starboard. As we watched this large boat approach us at a fast speed, I tried to take some pictures without being too obvious. The military boat circled us and hailed us on VHF. Ken had a very pleasant conversation on VHF answering their questions regarding our destination, and nationality of the entire crew. After bidding us a good day, they were gone! Tuesday’s sail gave us no wind, but lovely sunny skies. Tabarka is located close to the Algerian border and it wasn’t long before we were actually in Algerian waters. This was made clear to us with the approach of a very large military boat complete with guns on the deck. We had been ready for our arrival in Algeria by putting up the Q flag on our port side shroud and the Algerian flag on the Starboard. As we watched this large boat approach us at a fast speed, I tried to take some pictures without being too obvious. The military boat circled us and hailed us on VHF. Ken had a very pleasant conversation on VHF answering their questions regarding our destination, and nationality of the entire crew. After bidding us a good day, they were gone! Tuesday’s sail gave us no wind, but lovely sunny skies. Tabarka is located close to the Algerian
border and it wasn’t long before we were actually in Algerian waters. This was made clear to us with the approach
of a very large military boat complete with guns on the deck. We had been ready for our arrival in Algeria by
putting up the Q flag on our port side shroud and the Algerian flag on the
Starboard. As we watched this large boat
approach us at a fast speed, I tried to
take some pictures without being too obvious.
The military boat circled us and hailed us on VHF. Ken had a very pleasant conversation on VHF
answering their questions regarding our destination, and nationality of the
entire crew. After bidding us a good
day, they were gone!

We were able to fly the spinnaker in the morning, but by
afternoon, we were motoring again. It
was a sleepy day with little to do but read, motor and look for dolphins. We arrived in our first Algerian harbor in
the city of Chetaibi around 7PM. Tying
up along the quay was a bit of a circus and the longer it took, the larger the
audience became. Not very often you see
an American, RED sailboat come into your small fishing harbor. Language being the biggest challenge, we had several
attempts to get the boat secured without hitting bottom along the quay. One gentleman assured me that it was 2 meters
deep along side, but we knew we were touching several times. After a few odd try’s, Ken finally dropped anchor with the bow out and
we secured the boat alongside a cement fishing dock. We had most of our fenders
alongside to protect the boat, and of course, by this time it seemed the entire
village was watching our progress.

Our evening audience

The young girls had so many questions for us (ladies)

There was a younger Coastguard representative that helped
with our paperwork and soon became our boat guard. It was soon apparent that many wanted their
pictures taken in front of the boat and several families tried to place their
small children on our deck for this photo opportunity. We had to keep our gateway closed and kindly
ask them to stay off the boat. This
happened through out the evening and even in the morning before we were
up. (in the morning, I awoke to hearing
someone on the deck and when I went up, found several young boys scampering off
with the Coast Guard rep watching. I
think after I asked them to respect us, he kept others from getting on
board.

That first night in Algeria, Ken and Fred walked to
town to try to secure some food for dinner.
Molly, Paula and I stayed behind to “protect” the boat. The entire Quay was filled with people
enjoying the evening and watching us.
The men did not have any luck getting dinner due to our lack of Algerian
funds and they did not want our US$. After a boat-dinner, Molly, Paula and I walked down the Quay and
had several lovely conversations with some of the younger crowd. They had wonderful questions for us and one
particular young girl was very anxious to talk about women’s rights and
freedoms. We found our entire reception
very warm and they seemed delighted we selected their village to stop for the
night.

In the morning we untied early to an almost empty Quay, and
motored slowly out to start our next days sail.
It was about 7:30AM when we left and we found we were able to sail with
the Jib most of the day. Molly and
Paula were at the helm most of the day taking us to our next destination, Collo, Algeria.