The trip to Ibiza was a 90 nautical mile jaunt endured pretty much under motor and at night. Tony came up with a funny scenario for an SM club which involved recreating a small boat and a thrumming diesel engine. There really is something oppressive about an engine when you are used to sailing. Our first decent port on the map was a place called Badella, so we headed in. Anchors at the ready both bow and stern, we aborted the first turn and tied, bow first to a rock on the harbours east side. The anchorage was idyllic. We could swim into shore, the beach on the day we arrived was busy and a few restaurants dotted the shore. For a brief period we were in heaven. For me, Badella epitomised European beach chic. (you may ask from the picture what were we doing there, precisely) Great crowd and great pizzarea with dazed waiters serving cold beer with a sunset view. Who cares what we looked like.
Leaving Badella was the turning point in Tony's decision to stay on. We had logged over 1050 miles together but on the passage from Badella to Formentara Tony decided he'd had enough. Back in Badella, that morning we struggled weighing anchor. I had snagged the main anchor and botched setting the second with a very heavy weight, a chum. We had accumulated a catlogue of difficulties and situations that just no longer added up for Tony. He just wasn't enjoying himself any more. He took the desicion to get off the boat in the next port and fly on to Italy. He checked into a hotel in Formetara, rented a scooter and spent a day with Graham on the beach. I had Graham with me for one more week and then he would return to work in London.