Birvidik

This is it! Water 24 degrees and clear, quiet anchorage in Porto Roig, Southern Ibiza, snorkelling & swimming off the boat. And then.... What's that noise? It can't be...
Yes, it's Boney M singing "Ra Ra Rasputin" at top volume. Raising our heads above the cockpit sides, our eyes widen in disbelief as we see a charter boat full of Germans hacking into the anchorage, all doing the shaky head dance to the aforementioned cacophony and announcing in several languages "Party Here - Four O'Clock". Oh, ineffable joy.

They were true to their word, as well. The only variants were the music, which alternated between Boney M and some drum & bass house/garage/garden shed crap, and the dances, which alternated between the Shaky Head dance and the Hold Your Arms in the Air and Waggle your Backside dance. This went on for hours. Luckily, by early evening they were drunk & knackered and careered of back to whichever unfortunate marina was going to have to suffer them for the night. Peace descended to be enjoyed for two nights.

From this haven we decided to go to San Antonio, Clubbers' Heaven. Gluttons for punishment one might think. The front here is quite nice - certainly plenty of 'young people' around, and huge adverts everywhere for various club nights featuring different DJs, including some that even we recognised. All along the front were touts offering people free drinks to go to some club or other. Strangely enough, we were never approached in this fashion.

Now, this place is seriously weird. There's only one way I can describe it. You know those films in the late 60s, early 70s which purported to show the trendy London scene? Right, now think of the bits where they try, unsuccessfully, to show the moment when the psychedelic drugs take effect. The colours turn garish and unnatural, people suddenly look strange with extreme make up and bizarre clothing, the sounds all become very loud, distorted and unintelligible, whilst strangers start lurching out towards you, talking gibberish, and then receding. Well it's like that, but its 1:30 in the afternoon and you haven't taken so much as an aspirin.

From San Antonio we headed for what promised to be another deserted anchorage in Cala San Miguel. It was too. Crystal clear water, wooded limestone cliffs, peppered with caves. Oh, and The Resort. Did we mention The Resort? Did anybody see the TV series "Benidorm"?

We found it when we went ashore at mid-day. We heard it before we got to shore, a deep, bassy, PA system, distorted to the point of unintelligibility. Mesmerised, we followed the sound to its source. There was a stage. On the stage was an overweight man with a microphone and a T-shirt bearing the misleading legend "Entertainer". Next to the stage there was a pool. Around the pool were sunloungers and mattresses scattered chaotically, interspersed with small, low plastic tables. On the tables were the detritus of consumption: beer bottles, half empty glasses of Bacardi & Coke, greasy plates with the remnants of eggs, bacon and black pudding araldited to them. Chips proliferated in every nook and cranny.

On the sunloungers were the bodies; red, oiled, sweaty, blistered bodies, laid back with mouths open and eyes closed, some producing soft snuffling snores. Some with strands of saliva stretched quivering between upper and lower incisors. Skin dried and wrinkled before your very eyes. Had it not been for the PA systems you could have heard the incessant crackle of a million skins cells giving up the unequal struggle and bursting second by second.

Slowly, the sound of the PA wriggled its way into our consciousness, competing with the Hieronymus Bosch visions assailing our eyeballs. It announced the start of The Quiz. Just who amongst the assembled throng might be conscious enough to take part in such an enterprise was not immediately obvious, but the man with the microphone and misleading T-shirt was nothing if not an optimist and went ahead regardless.

The first 20 questions were all on the minutiae of recent editions of 'Eastenders'. Horizons widened somewhat in questions 21 - 40 which examined the events occurring in 'Neighbours'. We left before he completed the section on 'Big Brother'.

Oh - and did we mention the Karaoke night? Best not.

OK - perhaps we were being a little unfair in rushing to judgment. It is high season and it is Ibiza. So we upped sticks and headed for Mallorca, to a (yes, you've guessed it) deserted little anchorage called Cala Santa Ponsa.

Santa Ponsa did not have The Resort. It did have beautiful surroundings and clear water. In addition it had a lot of Brit Gin Palace Powerboats, all with real Wide-Boy types posing in them. It also had The Cat From Hell.

The Cat From Hell had one hell of a music system on board. Must have needed a 4Kw generator just to power that. It also had 'Lisa Darling', whose choice of music was only exceeded by the volume at which she chose to play it. When one of those on her boat suggested meekly that it might be a good idea to turn it down a bit, she replied succinctly that 'Anyone else who tells me to turn the f-ing music down is in for a f-ing good slapping'. This well reasoned argument prevailed until Lisa Darling collapsed below and locked everyone out of the cabin. We then had the radio drama of "Lisa, Darling pleased let us in" repeated at intervals to be answered by muffled abuse.

Having 'phoned a few marinas in Palma and being told they were full, we decided to visit by land. Good job too - wouldn't have liked it there. Did our culture bit in Palma (see photos) and then sailed to Ensenada de Rapita, where we spent on night and then came on here to Porto Colom.

Very nice place. No Resort, no clubs, no party boats, no TCFH and no mooring fees (so far). There are lots of smart looking restaurants lining the front, gleaming cutlery and glasses, white tablecloths, all under shading canopies. Liz looked rather longingly at them. Bob looked at the prices and walked quickly on. We spent nearly a week here, hiring a car and seeing the sights of Mallorca, including taking the old tram and train from Soller on the North coast to Palma. There are also some breathtaking caves, the Caves of Drach, which are well worth a visit.

We couldn't believe how many people went in on each visit. There were hundreds of them, and, of course, lots of screaming children. We hung back and let everybody pile in in front of us and then dawdled along, so eventually we virtually had the place to ourselves. It was very large, impressive and effectively lit. There were also pools of crystal-clear water reflecting the cave's formations.

Finally, we came to a large cavern with a lake. Here there were seats forming an auditorium. The lights were dimmed and illuminated boats were rowed across the lake, with the musicians on them playing excerpts from the works of Mozart. It was very well done, spoilt a bit by the fact that about 200 - odd people plus children can't keep bloody quiet.

Off tomorrow (17th) to Menorca. Weather permitting.