Port d'Addaia

We are just dropping anchor in Addaia when I hear someone shout ‘Mags’ from another boat. It takes me a while to figure it out but then I have it - It’s Carrie my sister Clare’s friend. I had no idea she would be in Menorca although I know she sails here from time to time. They are leaving shortly so I swim over to say a quick hello. Perfect serendipity- had we travelled here half an hour later we would have crossed paths at sea without recognition.

Addaia is a long narrow lagoon so it feels like a river, an Irish river, Drake’s pool to be exact. The water is flat calm while there is a swell at sea. This is the perfect spot to be with strong northerly wind forecast tomorrow and then two days of strong southerly coming after that. We go ashore to the Restaurant at the top of the hill and discover the owner is Corkonian. She rarely hears a Cork accent in Addaia but tonight there are plenty as her sister is here too and we all have a gossip.

When the strong northerly wind blows, we see white water crashing over the rocks at the entrance to the channel but in here there is just a ripple. We are safe as houses in this hurricane hole and very comfortable too when the wind turns and starts to blow from the south.
Ronan and Colm are ashore with a long list of mundane ‘to do’s’ when I instruct Ruby to ring Ronan to get them home quickly. I am at our bow watching yacht ‘Bruce’ slowly but steadily sliding backwards. She is dragging anchor and nobody is on board. Our neighbours are shouting and blowing horns but what can be done? We watch as Bruce’s heavy hull drifts determinedly towards our neighbour. A slight shift of wind saves him but now Bruce slowly takes aim at us. Ruby starts Regal’s engine and I get fenders ready at the bow. A french couple from a nearby yacht speed over on their dinghy and climb aboard Bruce. Miraculously they find a key and manage to get her engine started. Ronan and Colm arrive back to see Bruce under control and moving away. When its owners return a few hours later she is anchored in a completely different spot.
It is decided that while we are here we won’t ever leave Régal alone for too long. Two days later Ruby and I stay on board while Colm and Ronan go on a day trip. They go to Mahon the capital, for a heady mix of sight-seeing and provisioning. They arrive back later with gallons of milk, beer and fizzy water. While we are unloading the cargo our neighbour, yacht ‘Poker’, looks nearer than usual. Monsieur Poker is at his bow watching our stern moving closer… this time Régal is dragging anchor. We hop over the shopping, start the engine, pull up the anchor and find another spot. Our fingers are crossed that we will hold firm here over the coming windy days.
There is a repeating weather pattern of strong wind gusting in the high 20s followed by two or three days of less wind. The prospect of anchoring in one of Menorca’s beauty spots isn’t appealing at the moment as many are open to this wind and swell. For now our newly set anchor has dug in nicely and we are happy with this new view in Addaya.
While Ruby and I are on our day trip to Mahon, our Scottish friends on Aphrodite come into the Lagoon and anchor nearby. Over the coming days the two boats swing in rhythm with each other and young Hammish waves to us as he goes forward and backwards in his little cockpit swing.
We don’t see him anymore once a Frenchman wedges his boat between us. We tell him that his boat is a little close and he tells us to relax. He’s probably right, we just aren’t used to these busy Mediterranean anchorages. The next morning as I am taking photos to capture how hilariously close we are, the french skipper emerges in his pyjamas to have a look about. As the boats swing gently to the wind we both realise that on the very next swing his bow will hit our stern. He runs forward and quickly lets out more chain. As his bow closes in on our stern I reach out and push it off before it makes contact. Now his stern is falling back towards Aphrodite so he has to immediately start up and up anchor. His sleepy crew mate takes the wheel and their shouting back and forth between bow and helm rouses the whole anchorage. We all look on as the two men in pyjamas zigzag around the anchorage. I smile into my morning coffee and give Hammish a wave.
Ronan makes two unpleasant discoveries here in Addaya. On Saturday, while changing the engine filters, he finds dirt in the fuel. He spends a hot Sunday down below syphoning, filtering and cleaning with great help from Ruby. On Monday he has a sore throat and on Tuesday he is crook and the test confirms he has Covid. The rest of us feel fine, so while Ronan sleeps and coughs his way through the next three days we pull the boat apart and do a big spring clean. We are glad to be in this protected bay for this spell of isolation and not in an exposed anchorage yawing around in the swell.

In the wee windy hours of Friday morning, there is more drama in pyjamas as two boats drag anchor. The first boat recovers and resets without too much fuss in difficult conditions. It’s dark and windy and there are a lot of boats here. Checking our anchor we are relieved all is well with Régal. We look around and see that many others are checking their anchors too. A new 55ft yacht who was anchored near us is no longer there. She has dragged and is now pinned between a yacht and its mooring. After some revving and manoeuvring they manage to get off but they have surely done damage. They move at speed up and down the anchorage -their stress levels high. She fails to re-anchor several times and as they bring her around to try again, the wind shifts and she hits into a motor cruiser. The Drama. I stay up and watch on until the shouting dies down, the engine revs drop and all around the anchorage flashlights go out. Never a dull moment.

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