The boredom of sitting out the elements for another few days prompted a decision to move out and around the corner to Ciutadella. The wind reports promised a favourable direction to put up some sail, it all looked good for a "fairly" smooth run. Our visitors were excited by the next step, the cameras were charged up, as was their enthusiasm. We set out from our safe, if somewhat draughty anchorage at the Furnells.

The swell as we headed seaward through the channel was exuberant and coming from every direction. "Not to worry," enthused the skipper, "it will flatten once we round the point!" Nevertheless, I produced life jackets and we floundered in the aft cockpit struggling to don these safety harnesses whilst maintaining balance. Finally all four crew were back on the fly bridge, the best spot to be for lense snapping the rocky terrain and avoiding any excessive tummy turmoil.

A captain doesn't always keep his promises! A few hours out from port and the sea persisted in her attempt to manipulate us from all sides, the wind would not come around to our way of thinking and conditions were not being empathic for novice sailors. Enthusiastic camera shots had now been replaced by a yen for heads bent over head and heads on a pillow. Also a silent, willing kind of prayer that this lumpy ordeal would end, sooner rather than later!

Finally we turned the corner a few sea miles from Ciutadella. It has always amazed me how a flatter sea, the sight of land, and the smell of Tapas onshore can help overcome even the most extreme cases of seasickness.

Tied up safely to Terra Firma and the excitement of a new venue to explore, our intrepid sailors donned their land legs and were off. Maybe seeking out the Ciutadella version of Sangria, perhaps looking for a version of non-skid espadrilles, but certainly, all thoughts of the previous hours had deserted their minds.