Sailing to Corsica

Sunday 30th July 2023

Our plan was to stay just one night in Porquerolles but the weather had different ideas, as is so often the case when you sail. The next leg of our journey was the passage to Corsica. Initially we were going to sail to northern Corsica, a slightly shorter journey but the conditions for tomorrow, Monday 31st, were more favourable with winds that would take us further south, to Ajaccio.

Porquerolles was so lovely that neither of us was too upset. I went to the bakery and bought croissants and fresh bread while Igor made coffee. A cat seems to live at the bakers, at least he was often seen lying on the counter. He even allowed me to stroke him!

After breakfast I walked to the capitanerie with Gabriel from the boat next door. We had a fascinating conversation about the possibility of extra-terrestrial life. I've not considered this from an academic viewpoint since I was at university and it was incredibly interesting to find out how science has moved on in the last 40+ years.  

Igor and I didn't have any particular plan for the day so just took it easy. The sun shone, the wind blew, vindicating our decision not to leave. After lunch we decided to go for a walk. Igor found a 10 euro banknote in his wallet so our first call was to buy the ice creams we didn't get yesterday. His salted caramel was lovely, my apricot and rosemary tasted like I was chewing on a twig from the rosemary bush in my garden, not recommended.

We decided to walk to the Gorge de Loup, a couple of km away. Our route took us through the main street which to our surprise wasn't where the marina was. There were more ice cream shops here plus lots of vegetable stalls. Leaving the town behind we followed the road up a gentle slope, through woods, olive groves and flowers.

What struck me most was we didn't see one scrap of litter along the way. No discarded sweet wrappers, no empty plastic bottles, not even a cigarette butt (though smoking is forbidden everywhere as a fire hazard because the land is tinder dry). How many beautiful places have we visited only to find fly tipping? I don't know how they keep this place so pristine but I wish they would share their knowledge.

When we reached the Gorge the sun was down from its noontime apex. A fierce wind blew through a gap in the cliffs over a small bay.  There was a metal barrier at the end of the path but it had a gap so that pedestrians could get through.

We went to the edge. Sheer rocky drops led down from either side, with a steep stony path down to the water. Igor stood at the edge to take photos. I was too scared, the wind was too powerful for my liking.

Around the gorge the trees were twisted by the wind and made an archway for us to walk under.

There were more paths and we considered walking further but they looked like they would mostly be uphill so we decided to turn back.

During the course of the day Igor had been checking the weather forecast and it was looking promising for us to set off tomorrow morning. After dinner we attempted to fill our water tank from the tap on the pontoon but nothing came out. I remembered being told by the capitanerie that it was only available at certain times as there is a shortage of water on the island. Never mind, we would have time in the morning as there was no need for an early start.

We watched a sunset even more magnificent than yesterday's and got a relatively early night. Tomorrow we undertake our first overnight sail for years and years.

Monday 31/7/2023 to Tuesday 01/08/2023

I woke around 8.00 am, after a night filled with anxiety dreams about being at school, ridiculous stuff in the cold night of day. I suppose that meant I was more apprehensive about the journey ahead than I was admitting to myself.

We had breakfast and filled the water tanks as the supply was now connected again. We decided to taste the water to see if it was palatable. This isn't a given. In some marinas it tastes of bleach, in others it's just plain disgusting but here in Porquerolles it wasn't just drinkable, it tasted good. We refilled the collection of empty water bottles we had amassed which not only saved carrying a very heavy load from the shop but also helps to save the planet!

Maribel and Gabriel had initially told us that they would be leaving today as well but they decided to delay. We exchanged contact details and hope to meet them once we reach Aegina.

With the prospect of being at sea for over 24 hours I decided that taking some Dramamine to protect against seasickness was a good idea. That was when I discovered I only had two tablets left, enough to keep me going for around 8 hours. What about the rest of the crossing? A rummage through my locker revealed some acupressure bands so I read the instructions and carefully placed them as advised. If they were going to work using the placebo effect I was in for a rough crossing as I didn't have much confidence in them.

We left our mooring at around 9.30am, motoring around the island then, once out of its lee, setting the sails.  We set off at a speedy 7kts, fantastic.

We made the mistake of wondering out loud what we would do if we reached Corsica too early. Hmm, jinxed it.

The weather was bright and sunny, not a trace of Saturday's fog. It was great but after a couple of hours I think the side effects of the Dramamine kicked in. I felt an overwhelming tiredness and tried to subtly fall asleep. Igor very kindly let me. An hour or two later I made some sandwiches for lunch.

One thing I have learned is that salad leaves and eating on deck are not a good combination as any breeze will carry your lettuce away from the plate. Bearing this in mind we had hummus sandwiches with tomato which held together really well.

We journeyed under sail from just after 11.00 to around 13.30 when the wind dropped so we had to motor for a couple of hours. Serves us right for speculating that we'd have a quick sail. After a couple of hours we shook out a reef and sailed again.

At 17.00 I noted in the log book that we now had 100 nautical miles to go.  Still a long way but from now on the distance to the end would only be two digits, not three. Normally I routinely make notes every hour while we are underway, with additional entries if we see something unusual or there is any sort of incident. When you are in sight of land this is easy, the landscape changes constantly.  At sea it an be very different. All there is to see is the sea. This is hypnotic and endlessly fascinating to watch but generally not a very informative topic for the log.  The radio display shows our position via GPS to three decimal places but as we are on the move it changes from second to second. We have an electronic log charting our course so the temptation is to leave the GPS positioning to that but it's prudent to have a paper record as well so that we could plot our course and position if anything happened to the electronic systems.

At 18.35 we noticed a big ship nearby. Igor checked the AIS. AIS stands for 'Automatic Identification System', an automatic tracking system that uses transceivers on ships to show their position and course. All commercial vessels are obliged to carry it and many private boats do too.

(If you go to the Marine Traffic website you can look at a map of anywhere that boats go and see who is where and lots of details about the individual vessel (go on, try it, it's fascinating).  For example, as I write this I can see that at least three boats are in the very popular anchorage up river from me.)

Unusually the AIS had no details for this ship. When it got close enough for us to have a look it was obvious that this was a naval vessel so presumably national security wanted to keep its details confidential. Whilst Igor was looking at the AIS he saw there was another vessel out and about, a search and rescue vessel called Pionnier.

By now my sleepiness had dissipated and I felt great, even though the effects of the seasickness medication must have worn off. Maybe the acupressure bands were working? Whatever, I was just relieved. I heated a tin of chicken tikka masala for dinner and we ate it with some day old French bread. Food of the gods.

The naval ship was still in our vicinity, approaching to within about half a mile then going away, but still a bit close. We wondered what it was doing. We nervously joked that we hoped it wasn't considering target practice.  It's funny how vulnerable you can feel when you are so very far from land and know that the nearest humans could obliterate you at the press of a button (though as a British flagged vessel the chances of this happening are infinitesimal).

The sun set at around 21.00 and as it sank in the west and the sky darkened a huge full moon rose in the clear skies to our east. It was breathtaking. All there was was the water, the moon and us.

Around 21.30 Igor asked me to take the first watch while he had a sleep to prepare him for the night ahead. We were making way under sail, with the autopilot keeping us to a steady course.  Igor made up a bed on deck and laid down and I took my watch, checking our surroundings with a view to him sleeping until 01.00.

Everything was, thankfully, under control so there wasn't much for me to do but look around. We were too far from land for there to be any mobile signal so I couldn't check the internet to make the time pass. It was too dark to do any writing and if I put a light on it would destroy my dark adapted vision, so I just stared around me.  I did my best to remember every aspect of how I was feeling, what I was seeing and hearing, after all how often are you effectively alone at sea? Whenever I've done these night watches before I've had one of the children to keep me company, and the time goes a lot quicker when you have someone to talk to.

I wasn't really alone at sea, as after half an hour Igor got up to check something. Once satisfied everything was as it should be he laid down again. I stared at the beauty of the moon, by now high above us, and looked to see when the stars would appear. The moonlight was so bright that only the biggest stars were visible. From time to time Igor would get up and check things. I got the impression he wasn't getting much rest. Around midnight he asked me if I'd like to go downstairs and sleep. I felt a bit guilty but there was no point in two of us being up.  I went to the main cabin, took off my lifejacket and laid on the settee. He ran the engine for a while to charge up the batteries (the autopilot uses a lot of power) and I fell asleep.

By now it was quite chilly. I had to find my merino jumper and use a blanket to stay warm. I had thought of sending my jumper back to England when Vik left us in Port Napoleon. It was so hot then that the very idea of woollies was unbearable but experience has taught me it's always wise to keep something warm on a boat as things can get a bit chilly on the water.

Mentioning Vik reminds me what happened when he took our car back to England from Port Napoleon Marina. As got on the ferry to Dover a sharp eyed official noticed that there was an axe on the back seat of the car. This was something we no longer needed but it had come in very handy when we were on the canals, both for chopping sticks to use as mooring stakes and also as a hammer to drive them into the ground. It hadn't occurred to any of us that it could be considered as a weapon but the French security officer who looked at the car before it boarded the ferry thought otherwise.  He formally confiscated the axe, issuing a signed receipt. We'd have kept it on the boat if we'd thought it would be confiscated.

I slept until around 5.30 am. The anti nausea bands were still working well. I went on deck and took over. It was light enough to see but a bit cloudy. Igor finally went for a sleep. I was so grateful that he'd let me rest for such a long time.

Sunrise is a funny thing. When you're at sea in the dark your first realisation that it's happening is a brighter line on the horizon. You then have a period where the light generally increases and by the time the sun actually appears it is, to all intents and purposes, daylight already.  By about 06.30 I was wondering where the sun was, but it was fairly cloudy so I assumed it was hidden. I looked to a bank of cloud on my left and there, over the top of it, came the golden arc of the sun. I looked at the cloud again and realised it was land, a cliff. We must be getting near to Corsica! At this moment Igor came on deck to tweak the sails so I was able to say 'Land Ahoy!'

A little bit later the wind dropped completely and we turned the engine on. Igor could finally go and sleep for a while, as the engine requires a lot less attention than the sails. He is so meticulous about the boat's safety and performance that he won't leave anything to chance.

There wasn't really very much to see even though it was daylight. Land was still a very long way away and shrouded in mist. I could count the number of boats I'd seen on the fingers of one hand.  Overnight I'd seen a white light and a green light on the horizon. There are international conventions regarding the lights a boat must display at night, which vary according to its size and activities. The position of the white and green told me that a not very big power vessel was travelling sideways on to us.

During my morning watch I saw a cruise ship and that was pretty much it. The English Channel is so busy that you really have to take care to keep out of the way, unlike here.

Igor woke up around 9am and we had breakfast. We carried on along the rocky shoreline.

A few hours later we were nearing Ajaccio and once I had a mobile signal I called Porto Tino Marina to ask for a berth. The woman who answered was dismissive, telling me that they were full and that I should have booked in advance and not even offering any alternative dates. We tried the Charles Ornano marina who told us the same thing, but said that they might be able to fit us in and would call back. Luckily there is an anchorage next to the Charles Ornano marina so we found a place there.  

We anchored there around 2.30 pm. After a light lunch we were finally able to lie down and have a proper nap to make up for the lack of sleep last night. It was worth it though, we are finally in Corsica, one of the longer passages on our planned route and it definitely feels like a milestone.

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