Our final day, before we fly back in the morning.
Yesterday in the Internet cafe, we had checked for more information on the land train. Sadly, it only went to places we had already visited.
My girlfriend suggested we could take a boat to Formentera, this nearby island. Apparently it’s unspoilt beaches, hardly touched.
Yes, why not.
I thought no more about it until we boarded the boat this morning.
I’m not a natural sailor. Or swimmer.
In fact, it’s fair to say that I have a healthy fear of drowning.
Never mind eh?
We’d Googled Formentera, and it’s not far from Ibiza. 4km, from memory.
I mean I could probably walk 4km in half an hour, and surely the boat goes faster than me walking.
How long can it take?
Over an hour.
Nearly an hour and a quarter, of me, sat on the top deck of a catamaran, freezing, with my girlfriend trying to relax me.
FINALLY, we arrived at the island. Very nice it is too.
Not quite unspoilt really – there’s an Eroski (a chain here) supermarket, lots of cars, and cycle paths.
We rented two bikes for the day for the princely sum of €10. Dynamo lights (not that we’d be out in the dark) and a lock included. No deposit taken, and they gave us a free map.
We set off for some nice cycling, seeing lots of wildlife, down lots of country lanes. I saw lots of lizards (there are apparently rare blue lizards there, but the best I saw was green), various birds, rabbits, sheep. Then we happened upon a couple doing yoga, completely naked. That isn’t a euphemism. They were doing yoga. Stretching, etc., naked.
Well you don’t see that every day.
We got lost down some country lanes, checked our map and realised we were never going to get anywhere interesting in that direction with the time we had, then made for a nice beach near(ish) the marina.
Unspoilt, save for rubbish bins, and a wheelchair access board, which is completely inaccessible by wheelchair. See:
No shops, no bars, no other people.
Crystal clear water too.
Soon enough it was time to catch the boat back.
Now, if I didn’t enjoy the boat across, travelling to a magical unspoilt island, you can imagine how much I liked the same journey, backwards to our hotel, with more wind, and more waves.
For the longest hour of my life, I gripped the table with one hand, my girlfriend’s hand with the other, my feet stuck hard against the floor, my spine forced painfully into the back of my seat. I kept my eyes closed and focused on my breathing, and trying not to fight the rhythm of the waves.
Normal people, with better sea legs than me wandered about, up and down the stairs, to the bar, the toilet.
My girlfriend asked me on more than one occasion if I wanted the carrier bag to be sick in.
Somehow, I managed the hour and a quarter back. I wasn’t even sick.
Sadly, the mini-cold I’ve picked up while here has finally taken control of my voice and I can hardly speak. Hopefully a good night’s sleep will fix that.