Text: Christian 

We’ve been moored in a marina in Ibiza for a few days now. We’re sorting out a few things on board and waiting for a favourable wind for the crossing to Mallorca. So it’s time to let my eyes wander over the jetty, the boats and their owners.

To our left lies an older sailing training ship. On board: a bearded, sun-tanned Spanish sea dog. He’s quietly pottering about, sanding, painting and repairing. He tells us he has a classic wooden boat at home. He’s sailed it from the North Sea, across the Bay of Biscay, all the way to Croatia. He seeks peace and quiet in doing so – and finds it too. After all, you only live once.

Diagonally opposite another sailing boat. A perfectly maintained teak deck, not a trace of plastic in sight. Two long-haired men have been sanding and painting for days. No stress, no noise, just focused, meticulous work, step by step.

We’re pottering about too: replacing depth gauges, greasing fittings, polishing metal. In between, we go for walks along the coast or pop over to the hippie market in Las Dalias.

And then there are the others.

The Whirling Sofa Landscapes

Right next to them, they gleam: highly polished motor yachts. 30 to 40 feet of sheer presence, with a helm at the bow and, behind it… sofas and sun loungers. And right at the stern, two or three 500-PS outboard motors, also highly polished.

What's the point of all this? We're keeping an eye on things.

The neighbouring boat provides a practical demonstration. In the morning, a lady turns up – presumably a cleaner, or perhaps the ‘boat attendant’. She brings a fruit basket, arranges the glasses and sets everything up just like in a hotel suite. After 45 minutes, she’s gone again.

An hour later, the owner arrives. Elegantly dressed, with a scrutinising gaze, he carries out a quick test of the engine. He’s satisfied.

Another hour later: showtime. Two couples – the owners and their guests – turn up dressed to the nines, as if for a cocktail party. The men hop casually on board; after all, a gangway would be far too mundane. For the ladies, it’s a bit more… athletic – the distance to the jetty is too great.

The visitor pulls on a stern mooring line, intending to manoeuvre the boat towards the jetty, but it barely moves. The owner-skipper instructs him to untie the bow line first. Good idea – the bow line is dropped without further ado. But suddenly, things get hectic: the stern is drifting unchecked towards the jetty. Fenders? Not a chance – they’d spoil the boat’s elegant lines. So, quickly engage forward gear. At the same time, the stern lines and shore power cable are thrown onto the jetty at the last second. The old sea dog next door catches everything and just shakes his head.

Then they set off. In style. Slowly. Presumably heading for the nearest bay for an aperitif.

I briefly wonder what would happen if the captain really did push the throttle forward. Especially with the ladies’ hairstyles…

The other fraction

I can see another type of boat like that here at the jetty. With bare chests, sunburnt beer bellies and loud music blaring, they set off from the marina. Later, they come back with a pile of empty beer bottles.

Just picture it clearly: racing out into an anchorage on a floating sun lounger with 1,000 PS, blasting the surroundings with loud shouting and music, and then heading back again. I wouldn’t even want to know what it feels like to be lying at the back on one of these ‘sun loungers’ whilst the boat accelerates at full speed. There are often no seats, and you’ll search in vain for something as basic as handholds or a coaming.

Incidentally, you can easily burn through 200 to 300 litres of petrol in a single afternoon. On our sailing boat, 200 litres of diesel will keep us motoring for around 65 hours.

To each his own

Still, these boats do create jobs. Marineros clean, polish and maintain them to ensure that the grand display goes off without a hitch. It’s a kind of ecosystem in its own right.

But we’re definitely sticking with our sailing boat.

Our conclusion

We want to travel. To arrive. To discover places. And above all: to find peace and quiet.

We had enough stress in our day-to-day working lives, and at least we were paid for it.

Here on the boat, we’re definitely looking for something different.