On Wednesday we moved to Cala del Bianco. This is a very pretty bay slightly further north, and the picture shows the tiny town of Oliva about a mile away. You are not supposed to motor here, though as the YM article said, most people do discreetly turn their engines on to reach the buoys. We were excessively pleased with ourselves for picking up our mooring (without a floating line, we must add) under sail! We haven't done that since leaving England, when we used to practice the trick on the mooring buoys outside Levington on the River Orwell. Those are more difficult because the rope topknots are the devil to get a line through. But, conversely, the tide actually helps to pin you on the buoy if you use it right.
This little bay is very pretty, even through the (very empty) road runs just meters from the beach. The water is crystal clear and full of fish. They hover in the shade of the hull, helping us by nibbling the muck off the bottom. They they follow you as you snorkel along, so you turn and find yourself in the shoal. There are two downsides to the place: there seem to be hundreds of black flies. We would have taken this personally but at least one other boat had the same problem. Overnight there was also a swell, just enough to be irritating.
Entering the bay we had raced (us! It happens!) another boat, using the afternoon westerlies to great effect. Of course there were enough buoys for all of us, but it must be admitted that their Aussie flag provoked Pip to ensure we got that mooring buoy first time! George and Diana, on Kos 49.1, turned out to be great fun. As Diane said, the cruising life often consists of saying to total strangers 'hello. D'you fancy a drink?", which was exactly what Sarah had kayaked over to say. They came aboard, not least for a mutually profitable book swap. They also asked about the vagaries of blue ensigns; we explained; as members of the Cruising Association we're entitled to fly one, but we don't as so often we find them associated with the worst of British snobbery. To confuse matters, another boat in the anchorage was flying a white ensign, sign of a serving member of HM forces, to which we are definitely not entitled.
We didn't quite manage to sail off in the morning, as Roaring Girl would not pay off in the right direction. We only used about two minutes of power though. Then we meandered out of the bay and once in clear water set our cruising chute for the 20 mile trip to other side of the Gulf of Asinara, and Castelsardo.