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.
