Andrew Simpson
Winter is falling astern and spring beckons
At times like these the mind turns naturally to whatever lies ahead. Vague plans of the boating variety are taking shape, options reviewed. Yet recently I found myself recalling and contemplating past cruises, the pleasures they brought and their draw to entice me to visit again.
With Shindig in the Caribbean there’s no shortage of glorious anchorages in store, but curiously I found myself thinking about a small bay on the south coast of the Mediterranean island of Menorca where, more than a decade ago, we lay at anchor for several days. It goes by the name of Cala Covas and has an enduring history. Somewhere around 120 caves dot the cliffs and have provided shelter to families dating back to the late Stone Age.
And early man did more than simply crawl in for whatever shelter was at hand. Comfort was pursued. Caves were enlarged. Modifications were made. Floors were levelled, and windows fashioned to let in more air and light. Even rudimentary furniture in the form of raised platforms (beds?) were carved from the rock and, of course, there were fire hearths.
Somewhat later a community termed in the Spanish cruising guide Guia del Navegante as ‘gentle people’ – hippies to you and me – were turfed out to avoid damage to the archaeological wonders of the site.
Many of the caves have since been closed off for the same protective reason but some have been left open to satisfy understandable public curiosity.
Sheltered from all but strong southwesterlies, for sailors this is the kind of dream anchorage only really practicable in tideless waters. Space is tight; the holding uncertain.
The usual provision – and one you become more and more accustomed to as you cruise the largely tideless waters of the Med – is to supplement your anchor by taking lines ashore, tethering yourself to the land in some sort of improvised cat’s cradle. The proximity to other boats is chummy to say the least.
The manoeuvres involved call for precision and always have the potential to go embarrassingly wrong. Fortunately, the threat of mayhem in the making is never far from the minds of one’s neighbours, so there’s no shortage of assistance – excusably defensive assistance but still helpful – as you slot your boat into place.
We stayed for five days – a period of sublime relaxation. We swam, we slept, we read and explored the more accessible caves. More industrious forays involved dinghy trips to one of the numerous freshwater springs, soon to have our tanks brimming with delicious water untainted with chlorine. It was bliss and will endure in my memory.
So, where now to equal such experiences? Shindig is now ashore on the Caribbean island of Grenada and sadly I have become a single-hander. I consider myself fortunate since from the sailing perspective these islands are ideal, each being no more than a day’s sailing apart.
Also, barring tropical storms, the trade winds blow generally from the east meaning there’s only an occasional need to tack when heading either north or south. Whichever direction, it’s virtually sailing downhill.
Youthful though the Windward and Leeward Islands may be in the colonial sense, there’s no shortage of history. With the notable exception of Barbados, an uninhabited island which was first settled by the British in 1627 and has remained cosily detached and peaceful ever since, most of the other islands have seen considerable military wrangling mainly between the British, French and the Dutch. And there’s much architectural evidence of these disputes in the way of fortifications.
Arriving in St Kitts after crossing the Atlantic in 1974, I was almost immediately taken to one of the island’s most impressive landmarks: Brimstone Hill, a huge and imposing fort built using slave labour by the British, with its canons overlooking and guarding the island’s west coast. Magnificent, yes, and well worth another visit; but d’you know what? I think those caves in Cala Covas impressed me more.
‘The trade winds blow from the east, so when heading either north or south it’s virtually sailing downhill’