Grooving to the tunes of Jimmy Buffet on my iPod, I boarded the Kon Tiki Quatro for the 60-minute trip to Isla de Tabarca, a nearby island. Tabarca was once a staging area for pirates making plans to plunder the Costa Blanca. The dark grey clouds and gusts of wind at the marina suggested I take the trip another day. However, after baking in my Alicante apartment for the past two weeks, I thought some chilly weather might feel good.
Once outside the shelter of the marina, the wind blasted the Kon Tiki as waves slammed into its port side. Wallowing commenced, as the boat rolled side-to-side with each passing swell. Below decks, it was a barf-fest. The crew seemed to anticipate this and gave clear plastic bags to many passengers. Me, I would have opted for the “no-see” type of bag. One poor woman had the plastic bag over her nose and mouth. She didn’t look like she was having fun. In fact, she didn’t move much at all. Happily wedged between a chair and a rail topside, I tried to take some pictures, but the camera couldn’t focus quick enough with the boat rolling.
Shaped like an hourglass, Tabarca is a small island, only 1800 meters long and 400 meters wide. I was already wondering how I would spend five hours here before the Kon Tiki returned. I started with a quick tour of town. The usual restaurants, bars, gift shops, a few hostels, and more private residences than I first thought formed the hub of the town. Unpaved mainstreet (below) didn’t strike me as too lively on a Monday morning.
On the other side of the island is the protected marine sanctuary where I headed as darker clouds blew in. The path around the perimeter of the island is obvious and can be completed in a leisurely hour. Besides the rugged coast, the Tower of Saint Peter (described as a chopped-off pyramid), a defunct lighthouse, and a mostly rubble house were the points of interest.
At the far tip of the island is a cemetary. Makes sense: where do you stash the dead bodies? As far away as possible. And, that’s where I was when the rain and wind hit – - as far away from shelter as possible. The wind whipped the spray from the crashing surf and raked it right across the small island. I snugged up to the leeward side of the cemetary wall. At least it kept my back dry. I wouldn’t have been opposed to snuggling up next to a grave marker for shelter, but the cemetary was locked. The rain and wind didn’t let up, so I decided to take a walk in the rain. It was pleasant having cool rain dripping off my nose for once, instead of sweat. Less pleasant was the red clay, turned silly putty, caking onto my Keens. (I’ve happily switched alligence from Teva to Keen footwear.)
Once back in town after a short walk in the rain (remember, small island), I took shelter in an arched entrance and read while the wind quickly dried my quick-dry clothes. With another four hours to kill, I took a few more laps around the island. On my last loop, behind the cemetary, I found this bench right at the waterline. A perfect place for a self portrait.
