Pictures around Ibiza

Cwazy wakeboarders

At anchor at sunset

Serge managed to squeeze into this berth, never touching

Note dregs of party off the cliff

Medieval drawbridge entrance to Dalt Vila

Ibiza in a nutshell

Pruned trees around Ibiza marina

Our first choice for an overnight anchorage was the Playa Salinas, as I had read about the famous Ibiza salt & I wanted some because I thought it would make some nice gifts.  We eshew mounting the dinghy engine & paddle ashore, I'm trying to ease the strain on "the hand".  There is a salt factory running it's conveyer belt & I envisage a factory outlet store to get my salt!  HA!  No such thing.  Only an unused roadway with a fence & a no trespassing sign hanging by one nail.  They don't seem to be very concerned about it.  So we trudge up the road towards the factory & see a couple of trucks full of salt driving by.  There is another, more imposing fence & warning, so we stop there & Serge climbs up a short wall to look over the barb wire.   He sees a vast mountain of salt, & says, "here, catch this with both hands."  I see his fist full of salt come gingerly back through the barb wire & offer up my palms together.  Hmm.  This may not make such good gifts after all.  I was thinking more fancy bottles with ribbons & corks.  He climbs down & we both stare at the beautiful crystalline white stuff.  Maybe not such a good idea on the boat & how are we going to get it back anyway?  Serge makes a pouch in his sweater & says, "put it here".   What that man won't do for me.  As we're walking back I imagine the headlines, "MAN ARRESTED FOR TRESPASSING & STEALING, SAYS WIFE MADE HIM DO IT"  When we get back to the dinghy, we realize we need a new salt cellar so we debate the merits of my various coat pockets vs. Serge's hat & decide on the hood of my jacket.  Anyone who has heard us debate knows how that goes.  And anyone who has ever rowed a dinghy through the surf knows what happens next.  I push off in my bare feet holding my shoes while Serge tries to row.  Only the wave recedes & we're grounded.  I push harder into the next wave & we're off, albeit, I'm a little wet.  That's nothing compared to what was coming.  I climb into the front of the dinghy & the next wave carries me up & splashes into the boat a little but the next 3 waves were real rollers & my weight in front drives the bow right into them.  By now I'm squealing & convulsing with laughter while buckets of sea water have soaked my back & are sloshing around in the dinghy.  I scream again & urge Serge to "ROW, ROW"  He's cursing & doing his "grumpy just for fun" thing.  (I should mention at this point that I am weaning him off coffee & he has a headache 24/7)  I am useless as I am still laughing at what a couple of idiots we are.  At least the handful of salt survived, you don't need to know what Serge thinks it's worth.  Tomorrow we go to a little lake to get clay! Yay!