As we are both thoroughly depressed by the EU referendum result we decided it would be a good idea to inflict another blog entry on all of you, and brighten ourselves up a bit!

 

In the last entry we were preparing to leave St Laurent Du Var and heading West towards the River Rhone, then North through France to Rouen . We have now done all of our sailing and are ensconced at Port Napoleon in Port St Louis in Provence. It has certainly been an entertaining and, occasionally, sphincter loosening journey.

 

St Raphael

This was our first stop – some 30 miles along the coast from St Laurent Du Var. As we left, the whole coastline glowed in the light of the rising sun. As it rose higher it highlighted the mountains, the pristine white villages hanging on their ridges and the amazing contours of this delightful coastline. While we progressed, the sea changed colour from inky blue/black via grey to blood red, orange and finally to that magic azure blue after which the coast is named (Cote D’Azur). The journey was mostly spent trying to spot the most super superyacht among the acres of dazzling, often grotesque, maritime wealth in ports such as Antibes and Cannes. The overall winner was a boat we originally thought was a submarine (see picture & you’ll understand why) . We had previously seen this boat off Corfu last year. It is stunningly modernist and may be regarded by some as exhibiting good (?) taste. It is also very big. By contrast there were a number of elegant old wooden motor and sailing boats (definitely beautiful) .

 

En route we saw some dolphins which played around the boat for some time as Gina coo-ed at them and pointed them out to Marley. He immediately barked at them and they tailed it away tout-suite. One could almost hear his triumphant sneer .

 

As we approached St Raphael we passed some spectacular outcrops of a red rock. These are supposed to be the oldest rocks in France.

 

We arrived at Port De Santa Lucia, just outside St Raphael, before lunch. Very friendly and stylish marina – and none too expensive either . After mooring we took a stroll into St Raphael where the harbour was packed with unaffordable, super Wally Boats (the generic term for all power boats we don’t like). The town was pleasantly presented. Its distinguishing features are the cathedral and the casino. They are only a few feet apart. One wonders which one of them transmitted the most prayers to the heavens!

 

Le Lavandou

We were away from St Raphael at 06.00 and headed along the coast past St Tropez  and continued to play ‘spot the Walliest Wally boat’. This passed
the time effectively and, before we knew it we were nudging into the harbour of
Le Lavandou.

 

The town takes its name from the lavender fields around the Maures massif which sits behind it. It is a popular tourist spot. We went shopping in the narrow backstreets then returned to the harbour and sat in a bar with a beer and watched a mixture of locals and visitors heatedly playing boules in the heat of the afternoon .

 

One of the things that we are beginning to notice about the marinas of France is that they are much more relaxed than those of Italy or Greece and the marineros/ormeggiattori/ blokes
who help you tie up the boat, are also much more relaxed, considerably less macho and control freakish than their counterparts in Greece and Italy. In fact they are often so chilled that they often don’t bother to help you tie up. This suits us fine because no-one likes an
audience when they screw up!

 

 

Bandol

After a relaxing stay at Le Lavandou we departed the following morning for the port of Bandol. Our journey took us through the Iles d’Hyeres and its nature reserve, past the entrance to
Toulon (France’s largest Navy port in the Med), around the edge of the reef strewn Ile d’Embiez and into the port of Bandol .

 

As we left Le Lavandu we noticed that, to the East, the sun was rising hazily while, to the South and West, there seemed to be low cloud. All in all it looked like a good day to be
in harbour. On the other hand the weather forecast showed no ominous winds and just a wee bit of cloud. As we continued towards the narrow passage through the Iles d’Hyeres, past the delightfully named Ile de Porquerolles, we noticed the visibility closing in and reducing to no more than 50 metres in places.

 

Small motor boats kept appearing from various directions at considerable speed and sailing boats would appear eerily out of the mist. We fully expected to hear strains of Wagner and 
see the ghostly shape of Flying Dutchman appear through the fog.

 

However, we had to try and concentrate on steering a fairly accurate course while also straining our eyes for anything that might lurk in the fog . We do have radar on Tiercel but it
is notoriously unreliable with boats that aren’t made of steel. As the channel got narrower and narrower we also had to keep our navigation pretty tight. Eventually the beacons for the end of the channel appeared hazily out of the fog and then, promptly, disappeared again. We now had to cross the channel at the entrance to Toulon harbour. All went well until a small yacht appeared on one side of us, a couple of guys were fishing in a dinghy, a fast fishing boat crossed our bows and another sailing boat appeared behind us. Visibilty was now less than 30 metres when Gina (who has bat like hearing) heard engines. At this point the visibility forward opened up to around 100 metres and a ferry/tourist trip boat appeared going far too fast , generating a huge bow wave and it was heading straight for us.

 

The rules state that 2 boats on collision course should each turn plainly to starboard and moderate their speed . The ferry started to turn to port trying to avoid another boat. Rob
turned Tiercel sharply to starboard and into plain view of the ferry’s bridge. The ferry then turned to starboard and narrowly avoided us but the bastard didn’t slow down, it just hurtled through the melee of wee boats. We were all hit by the large wake following behind it and it was so bad that Marley actually grunted in his sleep!

 

We then navigated our way along the coast and into Bandol, avoiding all of the various Wally boats hurtling kamikaze style into the fog .

 

Once into Bandol we sat Tiercel at the reception pontoon, watched loadsa boats disappearing into the mist and waited for the staff to come back from lunch.

 

Bandol is very much a local tourist spot - as opposed to the various international resorts that cover this coast . The area makes good wine, of particular note is the local rose’. The marina is right in the town centre but is so large that you only really realise this when you wander off
the last pontoon and are confronted with this lively town.

 

After doing some shopping we had a beer outside one of the shoreside bars. The beer was good and we had a pleasant hour people watching.All seemed quite normal until we saw the nude statue of the god Pan playing his pipes. It is an elegantly cast bronze that has gone green with verdigris. The only exception being his penis, which shone like a guardsman’s buttons. Very puzzling. As we watched, some people passing the statue gave his willy a wee tug, twist and polish, smiled sheepishly and moved on. One little girl, much to her parents horror and everyone else’s amusement actually ran up to it and sucked onkissed it as she went past! Rob swears that he saw Pan’s eyes cross at that moment . That’ll be a family memory to recount when that wee girl brings her first boyfriend home to meet the parents!

 

We had 2 days in Bandol. On the second day we went to the local wine-growers emporium where they seemed to promise regular wine tastings. On entering we saw a few folks sampling various wines so we asked if we could do similar. We were told, haughtily, and despite the clear evidence, they didn’t do tastings and made us feel rather cheap-skate
for asking. We sheepishly exited with a 14E bottle of rose’ only to find that it only cost 11 euros in the fucking supermarket next door – supercilious bastards

 

In the afternoon we were pleasantly surprised to see a familiar boat arrive in the Harbour – Red Marlin. We had last seen Red Marlin and her owners Tony and Jan in 2008 when we ended up, gale bound, on adjacent moorings in Samos Harbour . We had been in touch
with them so knew they were close by and were heading for the Rhone as well. A
few beers were swallowed and many tales swapped about our various travels.

 

Port Napoleon/Port St Louis

As usual we were away at 06.00 the next morning heading for the Rhone estuary, where we expected to be for the next month. Here we have to turn our lovely sailing yacht into a canal cruiser. She is to have her mast removed and be prepared for inland waterways of France.

 

The 40-odd mile journey was uneventful. It was mostly sunny but with very little wind to speed us on our way. The coastline was very interesting as it was cut into by rugged fjord like gorges.

 

As we entered the big ship anchorage on the Marseille side of the Golf Du Fos we were taken aback by the large number of tankers in the bay. Gina counted 30! They were mostly full and
waiting to discharge into the oil refineries. Clearly the industrial action by French workers was having some effect on the speed with which oil left the depots.

 

On the other side of the bay we entered into the Camargue which, at this point was an area of saltmarsh with a very narrow channel into Port Napoleon which is in the area of Provence know as Port St Louis. We started to get worried when local fishermen in wellies could be seen wading to within a few yards of Tiercel as she proceeded down the channel.

 

On arrival we sorted out a berth for a month and made the necessary arrangements for our trip up the Rhone. Just as we got back from the office Tony and Jan turned up in Red Marlin,
so more alcohol was consumed.

 

The next morning we walked into Port St Louis and got our first glimpse of the mighty Rhone – it really looked fearsome as it was still carrying the floodwaters from the weather system which flooded Paris and was well loaded with boat damaging tree trunks– Gulp!!