GETTING THERE

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July 7 ARS-EN-RE

GETTING THERE

Well, we left La Rochelle with the usual (for this year) NE 3 – 4. Number 2 foresail & full main, and a lovely tack under the Re bridge. We made good time – in fact, too good since we sailed past our waypoint with a good 90 minutes in hand.  Now the problem was how to ‘park’ the boat – well too deep to anchor.  Made a couple of attempts to heave-to, nether very successful as the number 2 pulled too hard – also a fairly strong incoming tide.  In the event we made a couple of reaches under the mainsail only – and, of course, had lunch.  We then raced for the waypoint – 2 reasons for this (1) to have enough depth when we reached our target marina (LA CREE) and (2) to make sure we got a place, it being on the run-up week to Bastille day, and sunny with it.  

     The approach to Ars can be a bit tricky for the first time.  This was our second but apart from remembering our ‘aground in the channel’ experience, we couldn’t remember too much about it.  Now, for you landlubbers, here’s a digression on GPS navigation that the tars amongst you won’t need. (Look away now – drop back in at the net paragraph). Since there aren’t any nice landmarks on the sea like roundabouts, traffic lights or shops, we work by co-ordinates – latitude and longitude.  Enter the numbers into the GPS and it will tell you when you get there.  Fine.  BUT – as we may have observed before – every bit of water looks a lot like another bit of water, so… the GPS alarm sound around 200 feet away – so we’ll carry on a bit, and we must be there NOW.  ‘How far off are we?’ ‘Oh, it’s behind us now, how far behind?’ ‘Not sure?’ ‘Oh well, we must be somewhere near it…’ Now turn the boat into the wind, take the mainsail down and…  where was that waypoint? Get the idea?

     We took the approach from the assumed-to-be waypoint and soon the depths began to plummet alarmingly.  No, we weren’t exactly where we were meant to be.  Al said ‘We’re going back to La Rochelle’ and I thought ‘Not likely – I want to be in a lovely, quiet marina tonight’ and suggested we had a look at the cockpit plotter to see where the green bits were so we could sail away from them.  Thanks to Al’s quick observation that the deep water had to be some way to Starboard, off we went and up went the depths.  Phew!  Cockpit plotter is ace!  Now we headed for the land on the prescribed course, past what we thought MUST be the green buoy mentioned in the pilot book.  Until we met the next one! (Neither pilot book nor charts are completely up to date through careful cost-benefit assessment.)

 By this time it was clear that we were in the right place, but I still found myself looking for a land based pair of leading marks that I knew (from previous experience) just are not visible and in any case belonged to the next course.  My point is – navigation is not easy, even with GPS, and it’s important not to take anything for granted.  We used to write out a list of key points on a waterproof pad (or bit of paper, depending on conditions) and keep it in the cockpit for quick reference.  Also I now have a strong preference for REEDS loose-leaf almanac – can take out a leaf, put it in a plastic thingy and tuck it into my pocket. While I am on waypoint issues – we had another one on the approach to St Denis d’Oleron where I eventually realized that the waypoint given for the approach is not necessarily going to place us on the leading line.  The approach line itself, as specified in the S Biscay pilot has never made much sense to me!  Again a quick confab with the chart plotter sorted out the problem, showing clearly the shallows that we needed to avoid. After that it was only a question of waiting until we could clear the bar into the harbour (dries at low water springs).

     St Denis itself is a good base from which to see Oleron – I may have mentioned before that it has a really good shower block – warm with plenty hot water and space in the shower cubicles. There’s bike hire nearby (try bargaining), and a daily market in the village.  The nearby campsite has a shop and a couple of modest eateries & takeaways.  Beaches on either side of the marina are swimmable at high tide, but much better beaches are to be had on the opposite side of the island at Les Huttes.

Apologies for the L-O-N-G gap!  We decided to take off for a week or so camping on the Isles of Scilly - a sort of recce for sailing there.  Not sure whether I feel more or less confident of the navigation but there are certainly beautiful anchorages and clear, cold waters.

And - please do sign up to follow the blog if you find our travels in any way interesting.  Comments welcome too - it all encourages me to carry on.

GETTING THERE

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July 7 ARS-EN-RE

GETTING THERE

Well, we left La Rochelle with the usual (for this year) NE 3 – 4. Number 2 foresail & full main, and a lovely tack under the Re bridge. We made good time – in fact, too good since we sailed past our waypoint with a good 90 minutes in hand.  Now the problem was how to ‘park’ the boat – well too deep to anchor.  Made a couple of attempts to heave-to, nether very successful as the number 2 pulled too hard – also a fairly strong incoming tide.  In the event we made a couple of reaches under the mainsail only – and, of course, had lunch.  We then raced for the waypoint – 2 reasons for this (1) to have enough depth when we reached our target marina (LA CREE) and (2) to make sure we got a place, it being on the run-up week to Bastille day, and sunny with it.  

     The approach to Ars can be a bit tricky for the first time.  This was our second but apart from remembering our ‘aground in the channel’ experience, we couldn’t remember too much about it.  Now, for you landlubbers, here’s a digression on GPS navigation that the tars amongst you won’t need. (Look away now – drop back in at the net paragraph). Since there aren’t any nice landmarks on the sea like roundabouts, traffic lights or shops, we work by co-ordinates – latitude and longitude.  Enter the numbers into the GPS and it will tell you when you get there.  Fine.  BUT – as we may have observed before – every bit of water looks a lot like another bit of water, so… the GPS alarm sound around 200 feet away – so we’ll carry on a bit, and we must be there NOW.  ‘How far off are we?’ ‘Oh, it’s behind us now, how far behind?’ ‘Not sure?’ ‘Oh well, we must be somewhere near it…’ Now turn the boat into the wind, take the mainsail down and…  where was that waypoint? Get the idea?

     We took the approach from the assumed-to-be waypoint and soon the depths began to plummet alarmingly.  No, we weren’t exactly where we were meant to be.  Al said ‘We’re going back to La Rochelle’ and I thought ‘Not likely – I want to be in a lovely, quiet marina tonight’ and suggested we had a look at the cockpit plotter to see where the green bits were so we could sail away from them.  Thanks to Al’s quick observation that the deep water had to be some way to Starboard, off we went and up went the depths.  Phew!  Cockpit plotter is ace!  Now we headed for the land on the prescribed course, past what we thought MUST be the green buoy mentioned in the pilot book.  Until we met the next one! (Neither pilot book nor charts are completely up to date through careful cost-benefit assessment.)

 By this time it was clear that we were in the right place, but I still found myself looking for a land based pair of leading marks that I knew (from previous experience) just are not visible and in any case belonged to the next course.  My point is – navigation is not easy, even with GPS, and it’s important not to take anything for granted.  We used to write out a list of key points on a waterproof pad (or bit of paper, depending on conditions) and keep it in the cockpit for quick reference.  Also I now have a strong preference for REEDS loose-leaf almanac – can take out a leaf, put it in a plastic thingy and tuck it into my pocket. While I am on waypoint issues – we had another one on the approach to St Denis d’Oleron where I eventually realized that the waypoint given for the approach is not necessarily going to place us on the leading line.  The approach line itself, as specified in the S Biscay pilot has never made much sense to me!  Again a quick confab with the chart plotter sorted out the problem, showing clearly the shallows that we needed to avoid. After that it was only a question of waiting until we could clear the bar into the harbour (dries at low water springs).

     St Denis itself is a good base from which to see Oleron – I may have mentioned before that it has a really good shower block – warm with plenty hot water and space in the shower cubicles. There’s bike hire nearby (try bargaining), and a daily market in the village.  The nearby campsite has a shop and a couple of modest eateries & takeaways.  Beaches on either side of the marina are swimmable at high tide, but much better beaches are to be had on the opposite side of the island at Les Huttes.

Apologies for the L-O-N-G gap!  We decided to take off for a week or so camping on the Isles of Scilly - a sort of recce for sailing there.  Not sure whether I feel more or less confident of the navigation but there are certainly beautiful anchorages and clear, cold waters.

And - please do sign up to follow the blog if you find our travels in any way interesting.  Comments welcome too - it all encourages me to carry on.

The Beach

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29 JULY 2013-07-29

The Beaches of Agnes (and us)

Agnes Varda, as some of you know, is a talented and influential French filmmaker, a central figure of the New Wave who is still working in her eighties.  She was married from time to time (‘a love story with a hole in it’)to Jacques Demy (Umbrellas of Cherbourg; Les Demoiselles de Rochefort)   The Beaches of Agnes uses the evocative powers of beaches to tell a story of her own life, and Demy’s. (For a review, check out http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/2009/oct/01/beaches-of-agnes-review)

     Agnes used the evocative power of place, and in particular beaches, to tell us something about her own life and internal processes. This summer we (Al and I) have been reflecting on many aspects of our lives and beaches are a good place to do that.   
    For me, there is an additional resonance.  When I was around 5 years old I was diagnosed with TB and that resulted in almost a year confined to home, initially to my bed, running frequent fevers and living in my imagination and dreams.  My parents tried hard to give me the material to keep myself entertained and one of those items was a bridge-like table that straddled my bed and could even be tilted like a desk.  I don’t think my Dad, who commissioned it, could have envisaged just how important that piece of furniture would be – or maybe he did.  It was made in unfinished pine with a very modern hard plastic top.  Most exciting was a ‘secret’ pocket under the top in one corner, next to a leg.  I realise now that it was just an artefact of the design, but then it seemed like a magical thing.  I digress.  The beaches: when I felt better my parents gave me a jigsaw, a beach scene; it took me a long time – days, weeks – time is different for children – and I think that for a few hours a day I lived inside that beach scene with its white sand, blue sea, bright light, bright colours and people frozen in the sun-bleached moment.  It represents the perfect beach day with no sunburn or sand in the pants or sandwiches.

Now the beach represents freedom and pleasure, especially when the water is warm enough for swimming.  Al completely turns into a sea creature and is instantly playful. He likes to swim with goggles and mask, so he can see the occasional bit of marine life – sadly not much of this in an area that must once have been heaving with fish. I love the freedom not to wear clothes, the tactile pleasure of the water and sand, the warmth of the sun on skin, the touch of shade when I most need it, an orange and a drink of tepid water – all good.

Coming next: The Vicissitudes of Navigation

The Beach

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29 JULY 2013-07-29

The Beaches of Agnes (and us)

Agnes Varda, as some of you know, is a talented and influential French filmmaker, a central figure of the New Wave who is still working in her eighties.  She was married from time to time (‘a love story with a hole in it’)to Jacques Demy (Umbrellas of Cherbourg; Les Demoiselles de Rochefort)   The Beaches of Agnes uses the evocative powers of beaches to tell a story of her own life, and Demy’s. (For a review, check out http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/2009/oct/01/beaches-of-agnes-review)

     Agnes used the evocative power of place, and in particular beaches, to tell us something about her own life and internal processes. This summer we (Al and I) have been reflecting on many aspects of our lives and beaches are a good place to do that.   
    For me, there is an additional resonance.  When I was around 5 years old I was diagnosed with TB and that resulted in almost a year confined to home, initially to my bed, running frequent fevers and living in my imagination and dreams.  My parents tried hard to give me the material to keep myself entertained and one of those items was a bridge-like table that straddled my bed and could even be tilted like a desk.  I don’t think my Dad, who commissioned it, could have envisaged just how important that piece of furniture would be – or maybe he did.  It was made in unfinished pine with a very modern hard plastic top.  Most exciting was a ‘secret’ pocket under the top in one corner, next to a leg.  I realise now that it was just an artefact of the design, but then it seemed like a magical thing.  I digress.  The beaches: when I felt better my parents gave me a jigsaw, a beach scene; it took me a long time – days, weeks – time is different for children – and I think that for a few hours a day I lived inside that beach scene with its white sand, blue sea, bright light, bright colours and people frozen in the sun-bleached moment.  It represents the perfect beach day with no sunburn or sand in the pants or sandwiches.

Now the beach represents freedom and pleasure, especially when the water is warm enough for swimming.  Al completely turns into a sea creature and is instantly playful. He likes to swim with goggles and mask, so he can see the occasional bit of marine life – sadly not much of this in an area that must once have been heaving with fish. I love the freedom not to wear clothes, the tactile pleasure of the water and sand, the warmth of the sun on skin, the touch of shade when I most need it, an orange and a drink of tepid water – all good.

Coming next: The Vicissitudes of Navigation

Beach & Boat Holidays

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Ars-en-Re

10 July 2013

We are still here in Ile de Re – the weather is fabulous – a proper summer at last!  We have spent the last two early evenings at the beach – nice swimming at high water when the sea has warmed up over the sand.  Gentle surf and we had a tiny beach to ourselves.  We cycle with rented bikes, around 6 kms – not so far, although all the cycle tracks on Re seem to go uphill!  On the way back we went into the village of Saint Clement des Baleines to checkout a restaurant and almost literally ran into a bus load of string players there to give a concert in the church.  So we ate and then went to the concert – some good guitar playing followed by a string quartet, and still light when we pedaled back to the boat after 10pm.

 

Ars-en-Re basin de la Cree

Bird Reserve

Sea lettuce on Grande Jonc beach

The day before, we went to a beach at Les Portes and cycled back via the bird reserve.   There’s a video clip from the GoPro on a headband on the bike but it’s very wobbly.  I’ll put it in to give an idea of the landscape.  The best beaches are at the NW end of the island - accessed via the Phare de Baleines and the village of Les Portes de Re.

Can't upload video directly so please check out YouTube link below.

  http://youtu.be/8VKW9WQK_Mo

Re is much more wealthy island than Oleron, an up-market island served by an airport (La Rochelle – Re), with a lot of large private houses, sheltered by high gates.  A few British cars – the first ones we’ve really seen on this trip.  There are traces of the original population but holiday rentals dominate.  There are also wealthy French who have had holiday homes here for a long time.  Originally the island would have been all about fishing and shellfish.  There are huge areas of stony beach used for ‘peche a pied’ – gathering shellfish at low tide.  Very little fishing now – a few boats at St Martin.

Now we are asking ourselves ‘where next?’ as the North East winds persist under the influence of the same area of high pressure that is giving the UK its summer weather.  Could be Les Sables, maybe Ile de Yeu if there’s not too much North in the wind.  Meanwhile a few maintenance & housekeeping jobs on the boat – the VHF doesn’t seem to be receiving very well, so need to check the aerial connections. 

There’s always a bit of tension between sailing and holidaying – sometimes the two go together well, and sometimes we can’t decide whether to stay or go!  How long is too long?  When can we leave?  Where will the wind take us?

Watch this space!

Tips and Tricks:  Many of the boaters and holidaymakers here have bad sunburn!  Apart from covering up as much as possible we are using Eucerin factor 30 on cloudy days and Roc high protection on sunny ones, so far with good results and no burns.  Eucerin used to be available only in the USA but now you can buy it by mail in the UK.  I use factor 15 in the winter.  The Roc can be hard to find – I bought ours on the Internet.

Beach & Boat Holidays

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Ars-en-Re

10 July 2013

We are still here in Ile de Re – the weather is fabulous – a proper summer at last!  We have spent the last two early evenings at the beach – nice swimming at high water when the sea has warmed up over the sand.  Gentle surf and we had a tiny beach to ourselves.  We cycle with rented bikes, around 6 kms – not so far, although all the cycle tracks on Re seem to go uphill!  On the way back we went into the village of Saint Clement des Baleines to checkout a restaurant and almost literally ran into a bus load of string players there to give a concert in the church.  So we ate and then went to the concert – some good guitar playing followed by a string quartet, and still light when we pedaled back to the boat after 10pm.

 

Ars-en-Re basin de la Cree

Bird Reserve

Sea lettuce on Grande Jonc beach

The day before, we went to a beach at Les Portes and cycled back via the bird reserve.   There’s a video clip from the GoPro on a headband on the bike but it’s very wobbly.  I’ll put it in to give an idea of the landscape.  The best beaches are at the NW end of the island - accessed via the Phare de Baleines and the village of Les Portes de Re.

Can't upload video directly so please check out YouTube link below.

  http://youtu.be/8VKW9WQK_Mo

Re is much more wealthy island than Oleron, an up-market island served by an airport (La Rochelle – Re), with a lot of large private houses, sheltered by high gates.  A few British cars – the first ones we’ve really seen on this trip.  There are traces of the original population but holiday rentals dominate.  There are also wealthy French who have had holiday homes here for a long time.  Originally the island would have been all about fishing and shellfish.  There are huge areas of stony beach used for ‘peche a pied’ – gathering shellfish at low tide.  Very little fishing now – a few boats at St Martin.

Now we are asking ourselves ‘where next?’ as the North East winds persist under the influence of the same area of high pressure that is giving the UK its summer weather.  Could be Les Sables, maybe Ile de Yeu if there’s not too much North in the wind.  Meanwhile a few maintenance & housekeeping jobs on the boat – the VHF doesn’t seem to be receiving very well, so need to check the aerial connections. 

There’s always a bit of tension between sailing and holidaying – sometimes the two go together well, and sometimes we can’t decide whether to stay or go!  How long is too long?  When can we leave?  Where will the wind take us?

Watch this space!

Tips and Tricks:  Many of the boaters and holidaymakers here have bad sunburn!  Apart from covering up as much as possible we are using Eucerin factor 30 on cloudy days and Roc high protection on sunny ones, so far with good results and no burns.  Eucerin used to be available only in the USA but now you can buy it by mail in the UK.  I use factor 15 in the winter.  The Roc can be hard to find – I bought ours on the Internet.

Light and Lightning

June 11 2008-06-11
Snork Maiden
La Rochelle

I have been absent from the keyboard for a while – hands-on with sheets, halyards, winches, sails and all those other delightful nautical bits and pieces. I have also been reading one of the Patrick O’Brian novels (as in the film Master and Commander). For those of you who are not avid readers of the series, the novels feature a naval captain, Jack Aubrey, and his not at all nautically inclined friend, Stephen Maturin, ship’s surgeon, musical partner and ‘particular friend’ of Jack’s. The background is ongoing naval warfare and political alliances around the Napoleonic Wars. I don’t bear any resemblance to the huge, red-faced Jack, and apart from the music, Al’s not much like Stephen. Snork Maiden is certainly not a bit like a naval sloop, apart from the fact that oddly, they both travel at about the same speed. Snork Maiden does better to windward. We do not carry cannons or bad tempered personal servants, although, come to think of it maybe we both act that role from time to time.
The last few days we have been over in Ile de Re, a more up-market kind of island than Oleron – a lot of rich Parisians, I think. The last morning we were there, there was a film shoot going on around the harbour. Lots of extras all signing their blood chits and collecting coffee from the catering table, then being marshalled to do their actions, just like “Day for Night”.
The best part, though, was cycling over to the beach on the other side of the island, for a swim. Well, Al swam and I waded about a bit because of the jellyfish. It was hot but we found some shade lying under a dinghy on a trailer that someone had parked on the beach. There was a Hobicat sailing school and to advertise it, there was a single Hobi hull, painted a pale lilac colour and suspended between 2 poles. From where we lay it was against the pure blue sky with just the structure of supporting poles against the dunes and grass. Quite surreal and I will try to paint it. I would have photographed it but our very nice camera is so small that we’ve managed to lose it. There were many other stunning visual experiences. I can’t begin to describe the colours I saw when I was wading in the sea at low tide. Everything from pale sea green to dark red floating seaweed, apple green sea lettuce – some creamy white, all of them changing from minute to minute. It’s already fading before I can quite capture it in my mind.
The next day we decided to sail the long way back to La Rochelle, around the NW end of the island – quite flat with several lighthouses. The weather was sunny, clear and fairly light winds. We picked up a weather forecast from the Capitanerie and there was nothing much in the offing, maybe some F5s later in the day so we put on the working jib and went with the full main. All very nice and sailing well, we rounded the end of the island. Actually it doesn’t really feel like that because you see the same lighthouse from different angles for a very long time and it looks just the same! The wind had become very light and we should maybe have put on the big genoa sail, but bearing in mind the forecast, we didn’t. A couple of larger boats overtook us (bigger boats go faster – some law of physics) and Al thought that one of them was motor sailing – there was a thrumming noise. He went downstairs to take a nap (we often take turns like this if we are on a few hours passage – sleeping on the boat underway is a real pleasure). I listened to the sound he heard and it got steadily louder even though the boat had gone ahead of us downwind. I realised what it was – the sound of the Atlantic meeting the island. It is a sound that you wouldn’t want to hear while sailing at night; it sounds as if the surf is just a few boat-lengths away, a kind of booming roar. I could imagine seeing the surf-line in the moonlight, beautiful but very scary.
Speaking of scary, the air went rather dense, the sky darkened ahead of us, the wind came up fast, and it all turned a bit necky for a while. Too late to start reefing the main, too much sail to heave to, we backed the jib and dropped it – that immediately reduces the ‘out of control’ feeling that the boat develops when she’s carrying too much sail for the conditions. Al went up to the foredeck and tied it to the rail, and I managed to start the engine – that gives more control over the way we can steer the boat. To reef the mainsail – to make it smaller – you have to turn the boat into the wind to take the pressure out of the sail and allow it to be pulled down enough to capture a section of it and tie it to the boom – roughly speaking. Anyway, that done, it started to thunder and lightening in the distance, forking down to the horizon. This was followed by heavy rain. We managed to get into wet gear in time, so that was OK. Wind was pretty far forward so we went for the motor-sailing option. Still plenty of wind though, enough to sail with 2 reefs in the main, and no jib! Waves had kicked up too, until we came under the lee of Oleron. Motor-sailing meant that we got in at 2130 – still light at that time but La Rochelle also has daylight leading lights – very clear and nice to see them, they take us safely down a narrow channel in an expanse of shallow water. The colours of the evening were also incredible – dark sky, shafting light, sun shining over Re while it was raining and storming over us. The sea was full of changing colours. Later the sky over Re was dusky orange, with slanting bands of slate grey as the rain blew over. By the time we got in to harbour, the water was calm and we went peacefully alongside an unoccupied boat, moving twice before breakfast this morning to get a better berth next to a pontoon – water and electricity on hand. We are again in Minimes – not as pretty as the old harbour, but plenty of technicians, chandleries and the all-important Wifi at 1 euro a day.
Have to pack up for tonight – we have someone coming 0830 in the morning to fit our Navtex (weather forecast transmitted to a screen on the boat). Useful for longer passages and especially just now since the people who do the French coastal forecasts are on strike. Driving inland a few days ago we passed a huge convoy of emergency vehicles, demonstrating against fuel prices. The fisherman’s blockade of ports seems to have eased off a bit but they feel very strongly about the fuel prices here and we’ve heard from a British yacht that was harassed by a fishing boat on the way to Bordeaux. Nothing quite so exciting has happened to us yet, but if it does I will assume my Jack Aubrey persona and let go with a few fictional cannon.

Light and Lightning

June 11 2008-06-11
Snork Maiden
La Rochelle

I have been absent from the keyboard for a while – hands-on with sheets, halyards, winches, sails and all those other delightful nautical bits and pieces. I have also been reading one of the Patrick O’Brian novels (as in the film Master and Commander). For those of you who are not avid readers of the series, the novels feature a naval captain, Jack Aubrey, and his not at all nautically inclined friend, Stephen Maturin, ship’s surgeon, musical partner and ‘particular friend’ of Jack’s. The background is ongoing naval warfare and political alliances around the Napoleonic Wars. I don’t bear any resemblance to the huge, red-faced Jack, and apart from the music, Al’s not much like Stephen. Snork Maiden is certainly not a bit like a naval sloop, apart from the fact that oddly, they both travel at about the same speed. Snork Maiden does better to windward. We do not carry cannons or bad tempered personal servants, although, come to think of it maybe we both act that role from time to time.
The last few days we have been over in Ile de Re, a more up-market kind of island than Oleron – a lot of rich Parisians, I think. The last morning we were there, there was a film shoot going on around the harbour. Lots of extras all signing their blood chits and collecting coffee from the catering table, then being marshalled to do their actions, just like “Day for Night”.
The best part, though, was cycling over to the beach on the other side of the island, for a swim. Well, Al swam and I waded about a bit because of the jellyfish. It was hot but we found some shade lying under a dinghy on a trailer that someone had parked on the beach. There was a Hobicat sailing school and to advertise it, there was a single Hobi hull, painted a pale lilac colour and suspended between 2 poles. From where we lay it was against the pure blue sky with just the structure of supporting poles against the dunes and grass. Quite surreal and I will try to paint it. I would have photographed it but our very nice camera is so small that we’ve managed to lose it. There were many other stunning visual experiences. I can’t begin to describe the colours I saw when I was wading in the sea at low tide. Everything from pale sea green to dark red floating seaweed, apple green sea lettuce – some creamy white, all of them changing from minute to minute. It’s already fading before I can quite capture it in my mind.
The next day we decided to sail the long way back to La Rochelle, around the NW end of the island – quite flat with several lighthouses. The weather was sunny, clear and fairly light winds. We picked up a weather forecast from the Capitanerie and there was nothing much in the offing, maybe some F5s later in the day so we put on the working jib and went with the full main. All very nice and sailing well, we rounded the end of the island. Actually it doesn’t really feel like that because you see the same lighthouse from different angles for a very long time and it looks just the same! The wind had become very light and we should maybe have put on the big genoa sail, but bearing in mind the forecast, we didn’t. A couple of larger boats overtook us (bigger boats go faster – some law of physics) and Al thought that one of them was motor sailing – there was a thrumming noise. He went downstairs to take a nap (we often take turns like this if we are on a few hours passage – sleeping on the boat underway is a real pleasure). I listened to the sound he heard and it got steadily louder even though the boat had gone ahead of us downwind. I realised what it was – the sound of the Atlantic meeting the island. It is a sound that you wouldn’t want to hear while sailing at night; it sounds as if the surf is just a few boat-lengths away, a kind of booming roar. I could imagine seeing the surf-line in the moonlight, beautiful but very scary.
Speaking of scary, the air went rather dense, the sky darkened ahead of us, the wind came up fast, and it all turned a bit necky for a while. Too late to start reefing the main, too much sail to heave to, we backed the jib and dropped it – that immediately reduces the ‘out of control’ feeling that the boat develops when she’s carrying too much sail for the conditions. Al went up to the foredeck and tied it to the rail, and I managed to start the engine – that gives more control over the way we can steer the boat. To reef the mainsail – to make it smaller – you have to turn the boat into the wind to take the pressure out of the sail and allow it to be pulled down enough to capture a section of it and tie it to the boom – roughly speaking. Anyway, that done, it started to thunder and lightening in the distance, forking down to the horizon. This was followed by heavy rain. We managed to get into wet gear in time, so that was OK. Wind was pretty far forward so we went for the motor-sailing option. Still plenty of wind though, enough to sail with 2 reefs in the main, and no jib! Waves had kicked up too, until we came under the lee of Oleron. Motor-sailing meant that we got in at 2130 – still light at that time but La Rochelle also has daylight leading lights – very clear and nice to see them, they take us safely down a narrow channel in an expanse of shallow water. The colours of the evening were also incredible – dark sky, shafting light, sun shining over Re while it was raining and storming over us. The sea was full of changing colours. Later the sky over Re was dusky orange, with slanting bands of slate grey as the rain blew over. By the time we got in to harbour, the water was calm and we went peacefully alongside an unoccupied boat, moving twice before breakfast this morning to get a better berth next to a pontoon – water and electricity on hand. We are again in Minimes – not as pretty as the old harbour, but plenty of technicians, chandleries and the all-important Wifi at 1 euro a day.
Have to pack up for tonight – we have someone coming 0830 in the morning to fit our Navtex (weather forecast transmitted to a screen on the boat). Useful for longer passages and especially just now since the people who do the French coastal forecasts are on strike. Driving inland a few days ago we passed a huge convoy of emergency vehicles, demonstrating against fuel prices. The fisherman’s blockade of ports seems to have eased off a bit but they feel very strongly about the fuel prices here and we’ve heard from a British yacht that was harassed by a fishing boat on the way to Bordeaux. Nothing quite so exciting has happened to us yet, but if it does I will assume my Jack Aubrey persona and let go with a few fictional cannon.