Back on the water
22nd July 2023
As you know if you read my last post, we left Port Napoleon just after 6.30pm on Saturday 22nd July. Igor set up a bridle, a line running from the cockpit to the front of the boat and back to the cockpit. This allows us to remove all the other mooring lines and reverse out, under control, using just a single line without leaving the cockpit.
Our course took us back down the buoyed channel but instead of turning towards town and the Rhone we headed out to sea. It took us about 40 minutes to get there, motoring, keeping a sharp lookout for the fishing boats full of anglers returning home with their catches.
We adjusted our course and raised the sails. It was fantastic to be at sea again, very different to the canals and rivers. I’d almost forgotten about chop and swells, how the boat moves in three different directions all at once – rolling, pitching and yawing. Rolling is going from side to side. Pitching is when you tip along the other axis so the front goes down and back comes up and vice versa. Yawing is a sort of diagonal motion, the other axis if you think about things three dimensionally. Incidentally, the more of these things are going on at once the more likely you are to feel unwell.
Igor asked me to take the helm and steer the boat while he checked everything was working properly now that the mast and all the associated wiring, ropes etc had been reconnected. Steering a boat is a classic way to combat seasickness as you have to look ahead to the horizon which allows the inner ears to process what is going on. It’s the disconnect between your eyes and your middle ear that controls balance that causes the problems. Sit in a cabin with no windows and read and you will feel far worse than if you look ahead and pay attention. It’s exactly the same as if you’re prone to carsickness, identical mechanisms.
Once we were underway we had an absolutely cracking sail. We managed 7-8 knots through the water all the way. We saw a few other boats – a big ship that overtook us and a few power boats. As Port Napoleon faded into the distance the scenery improved. We left all the industry far behind us.
We arrived in the town of Carro just before 9.00 pm, as the sun was setting. There were anchorages nearby but the wind was up and we could see the masts of the vessels at anchor swaying from side to side. It didn’t look comfortable so we headed into the protected harbour of the Port de Carro.
It was very busy, every space taken. Nearly all the other boats were small private fishing boats, the sort that a bunch of guys go out on with their fishing rods. Igor noticed a small sailing boat moored to a big lifeboat. There were no signs of anyone on board the smaller vessel which suggested that the lifeboat didn’t move much. We attached our lines to the lifeboat. There was another big boat moored behind it at right angles which looked like it had never moved. I was going to suggest it as an alternative, worried that the lifeboat might be called out during the night, but decided to trust Igor’s judgment instead.
Once the engine was off we could hear the sounds of a funfair which was taking place within a couple of hundred metres of the harbour. Kids were screaming, lots of squeals, it sounded like everyone was having a fantastic time. I started cooking dinner.
We have loads of tinned food on board and today’s choice was paella. A small tin of rice sits on top of a big tin of stewed chicken pieces (on the bone), spicy sausage and mussels. You fry the rice, add the attached sachet of spices and some water then the contents of the tin and cook for 20 minutes. Tinned food over here is generally so good and this was excellent. We ate it on dec. By now a cover band was belting out greatest hits in the warm night air. It felt so good to be on the move again.
Sunday 23rd July 2023
I was half woken very early in the morning by the sounds of a bigger boat leaving the harbour. It was still dark so I rolled over and went back to sleep. At 6.00 am Igor got up and started making ready to leave. I tried to ignore him but at 6.26 he turned the engine on so I had no choice but to get up. I went on deck and looked around bleary eyed. The big boat I’d thought might be a better choice for mooring was the one that had left early and woken me up. Just as well I didn’t suggest it.
We were away about 15 minutes after the engine went on, leaving Carro and heading back out to sea. Once we were on course Igor suggested I could go back to bed if I wanted, but I was awake now and enjoying myself. The morning was cool and pleasant. The scenery was a hazy vista of scrub covered limestone hills retreating into the morning mist.
I made coffee. This was a bit of a challenge as the boat was heeling over. Again I didn’t suffer any seasickness. This was fantastic! I’ve spent so many trips feeling knocked out by tablets or like death warmed up or both that I nurtured the hope that I’d grown out of it. I did quite a bit of the steering which may have helped.
By 9.30am we had reached some small islands near Marseille, the Iles du Frioul. The coastline is very wiggly, with lots of coves and inlets, or calanques. We went to one of the most popular, the Calanque de Crine. There were a couple of motorboats already there, moored stern to against the limestone cliffs surrounding the bay.
People were swimming from the boats and divebombing from the rocks 15-30 feet above the water. We laid our anchor and went for a swim, our first in the Med. The water was blue, clear and warm and the sun was shining. This is what we signed up for. We prepared for a relaxing morning just taking it easy.
As time drew on more and more boats appeared. Of course everyone needed to lay an anchor but it’s really important that you keep your ground tackle clear of anyone else’s. As a bigger boat we laid out 25 metres of chain and a few more metres of rope. The small motor boats that came later would just start dropping anchor anywhere that, to a passing glance, looked clear. Igor repeatedly had to jump in and check they weren’t fouling our chain and ask them to move. Eventually there must have been about 8 or 9 boats in the calanque and it was starting to be a bit crowded. We decided to leave.
We made our way to Port Frioul, a big marina around the headland, about an hour away. This was built in an old naval base and is massive. One side is for long term stays, the other for visitors. We radioed and were told where to moor. A small motor boat from the capitanerie came over to supervise. This was our first Med mooring of the trip, stern to against the pontoon. Another boater took our lines at the aft and secured us, then we had to pick up a rope fixed to the pontoon which led all the way to the bow of the boat and secure it on the cleat. We tied it to the starboard side. Later, after we’d heard a forecast of strong winds to come, we secured a similar line to the port side.
Once we were settled we wandered over to the Capitanerie which was about to close for lunch. They said to come back afterwards with our ships papers and gave us the code for the shower block. Unlike Port Napoleon there was no air conditioning in there. When we showered they were really hot and stuffy and by the time you dried yourself afterwards you were covered in sweat again.
After our showers Igor suggested we catch the ferry over to Marseille. I was very keen. The crossing was short and fast, about 40 minutes, half of it to cross the water then the other half to carefully negotiate a passage through the enormous marina leading to the ferry port. Historic buildings surround the water and the scale is impressive.
Over the years I’d built up a mental picture of how I expected the city to be. I imagined somewhere dark and sleazy, sailors in stripy tops and bellbottoms propositioning bouffant haired, red lipsticked prostitutes in fishnets and mini skirts, their ample bosoms spilling out of too-small low cut tops. I got that completely wrong. For one, no sign of either sailors or prostitutes. For another, the buildings are golden sandstone with terracotta roofs glowing in the sunshine on the hills around the port. It was quite beautiful.
We wanted lunch but the waterfront restaurants were all busy and looked a bit tourist trappy so we got an ice cream instead and set off walking. Away from the tourist areas the atmosphere changed. It’s a place where people live and a lot of them were out and about. We walked until we reached a church on top of a hill. We stayed there for a while in the calm and cool, before we started our walk back to the ferry.
When we crossed to Marseille the ferry had been on the point of departing so we’d had to buy a ticket from the captain on board. We now had to buy our return tickets. There was a queue, mostly in the blazing sunshine, which moved really slowly. Given that they were only selling tickets to one destination and the choice was limited we couldn’t understand what took so long.
It was about 3pm, and the next ferry was around 3.30 so we consoled ourselves that we wouldn’t have to wait too long once we reached the head of the queue. Wrong. We’d underestimated how busy the ferry is and our ticket was for the first available one, at 16.50. An hour to kill in the hot sun.
There is a roofed plaza next to the ferry crossing and the ceiling is mirrored. It's quite fascinating to see your reflection from this angle. There were break dancers entertaining the crowds passing by, so we halfheartedly watched them for a few minutes then wandered off to find a supermarket for some bottled water. It was hot.
When we got back it was past 4.00 so we joined the long queue waiting to board the ferry. An official came along and told us this was only for people with tickets for the 16.35 crossing. We were told to go away and come back when they had left. By the time we boarded our ferry we’d sort of had enough. We were hot and bothered, we hadn’t found anywhere to eat so had only had a bag of chips from McDonalds and we’d been outside in the blazing sun for far too long.
Once back at the marina we had another shower then got ready to go to the capitanerie to pay for our stay. As we were gathering the ship's papers to take with us someone from the office knocked on the boat and asked if we’d like her to take them for us as they were closing in 10 minutes. We considered this but decided we’d rather take them ourselves as if they went missing we’d have big problems. When we handed them over we were told that we should come in and pay once we decided to go, and that until then they’d hang onto our paperwork.
Dinner was a tin of ‘Indian style’ tuna salad. It tasted like someone had been told what Indian food tastes like and made an approximation of it. Actually it wasn’t that bad.
All in all a pretty good day.
Monday 24th July to Wednesday 26thJuly 2023
Over the course of Sunday Igor had been checking the forecast and seen predictions of strong winds. The dreaded Mistral was on the way. We had little choice but to stay put until it resolved. It would be impossible to travel in the direction we wanted to against a wind like that, much better to enjoy where we were.
On Monday morning there was no sign of anything untoward. We went for a walk around the island, climbing the hills and swimming in the calanques.
It is a beautiful place, stunning views for miles and a wonderful smell of pine and flowers on the air. The walk was steep in places but not killing and we were early enough to avoid the worst heat of the day. We spotted a castle far above us so had to walk up there. It was disused and padlocked but worth the walk for the view.
We walked for a couple of km until we found a calanque with a reasonable beach to sit down. A lot of them have steep, rocky sides which would be a bit more challenging to enter and exit the water.
We spent some time in the water but as the sun rose higher the idea of staying longer in the blazing sun didn't seem sensible with our fair northern skin. We headed back to the boat, stopping in another equally beautiful calanque for another swim as we'd got so hot.
We decided to treat ourselves to lunch at one of the many seafront restaurants on the waterfront by the marina. It felt like we were on a fabulous holiday. If the picture looks a bit pink it's because of the huge red parasols shading us.
We went back to the boat and were grateful for the aircon. It was lovely to be in a beautiful place, knowing we could relax for a day or two until the weather settled.
As evening drew on the wind arrived in full force. It was really noisy with the various ropes and deck fittings banging as they hit the deck or mast.
On Tuesday it was worse. The wind was howling and outside looked uninviting. I went for a short walk and looked out to the open sea. Madness, churning foam topped waves with spray being thrown over the metres high sea defences onto the people below.
By evening things had calmed a little and we were able to walk to the other side of the island. We saw the ruined Caroline Hospital, a former leper colony.
Even the beautiful surroundings couldn’t take away the melancholy of all the people who had been confined and isolated there to prevent the spread of infection in the days before antibiotics made leprosy curable.
The walk to the lookout had been in the same direction as the wind was blowing so not too noticeable. Not so on the way back. Along the way we spotted a beach through a gap in the cliffs. Walking through it was like being in a wind tunnel. There were signs warning of rockfalls so we didn't hang around too long.
On Wednesday it was still windy but not as bad. We didn’t do much in the morning but decided to visit the beach we’d been to yesterday after lunch. We found a place to sit and Igor went into the water. He quickly came back saying how cold it was. This is a man who swims in the sea in England in April and doesn’t complain.
We later found out (having already theorised the same thing ourselves) that the Mistral churns up the sea, bringing cold water to the surface from the depths. Igor asked me if I wanted to go in. No thanks, I told him I’d take his word for it.
The air temperature had dropped too so I took the opportunity to clean the deck a bit.
Over the course of the day the winds grew lighter so we went to the Capitanerie and paid. It was 40 euros a night, expensive given the poor quality of the facilities but I suppose this is the ‘Welcome to the South of France’ experience. They warned us that the prices would only get higher.
Tomorrow we will set off to explore further.
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