We sailed out of Monaco harbor and headed to Italy. I just have to say as we leave France that I will always have a part it carried in my heart. The people were so kind, the southern French light so magical and the towns and cities so elegant and charming. I know I will be back.
We stayed the night in a very small port about an hour into Italy. It proved to be a lucky choice. While the harbor did not have much appeal, it did have a Lagoon dealer. He arranged for us to have our 50-hour checkup and oil change on my engines and helped me with some electronic equipment problems I was having. We ended getting a late start to Genoa, but I was glad to get these things taken care of. Today did bring a first on our navigation skills. Because we crossed the Gulf of Genoa, we lost sight of all land for a couple of hours before making it into port. The magic of GPS. It tells you where you are going even if you have no idea where you are.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Monarchs and Monaco.
Early the next morning we set off for the third gem in the triple crown, Monaco. From the sea we could see the commanding palace of the Grimaldi family. Ruling the principality of Monaco since the 13th century, their presence and influence was apparent in virtually every part of the city. Just a little bigger than New York’s central park, Monaco rises up from the sea into a beautiful port of modern skyscrapers mixed with traditional French chateaus. The palace itself was just how you would want your castle. Perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea, it is furnished with damask walls inlayed marble floors and gilded gold furniture housed by vaulted ceilings painted like the Sistine ceiling. The walls are covered with famous paintings of past rulers who still claim some of the splendor of the palace in their richly dressed portraits. Princess Grace is still honored with various artifacts from her life. The Casino that was built in the 30’s which saved the family from bankruptcy and made this unique city a tax-free haven for the rich and powerful still commands a respectable presence in the skyline. It’s beautiful architecture designed by French Charles Garnier who also designed the Paris opera house has bigger than life statues holding up the green copper roof. The story goes that so many patrons committed suicide after loosing their family fortunes, that they would stuff their bodies into the cracks of the limestone foundation of the casino until the stench became so strong that they resorted to shoving them off the cliffs to the ocean below instead. Fortunes are still won and lost on a regular basis at this oasis for people that have more money than they know what to do with. I managed to keep all of mine securely in my back pocket.
Hugegantuan
Yup, it is a made up word. Because the yachts in this harbor are so huge, that a common word like huge or gargantuan is just not a big enough word to describe them. The whole marina is filled with yacht after yacht, each one bigger than the last. We arrived in St. Tropez close to 10pm, just when the daylight was fading. We wander around the marina looking for a spot for our humble little sailboat, but no room at the inn. We were directed to Port Grimaud, which is at the end of the bay. I stayed there before when I was sailing with Kip on my first trip. Grimaud used to be a mosquito-infested swampland. They asked a well-known French architect to do something with it. He recreated a provincial French town with canals meandering through the development. It is charming in a “we have way too much money to know what to do with it” kinda way. Expensive cars and that new money attitude permeates the development. Our docking fees for the night was over 100 euros, one of the most expensive places we have stayed. The next morning, we took a 15-minute water taxi to St. Tropez.
St. Tropez is really a beautiful town that has aged well with a patina only centuries of use can give. At the top of the hill is the old citadel that protected the town in earlier times of constant attacks and sieges. The narrow streets go in no particular direction, making the town more like a life-size maze with designer stores as the reward for finding you way through. The weather was slightly humid, but didn’t seem to diminish the money flowing in a tidal storm all around the port area. There is a whole industry built around servicing the very wealthy. Vans of the very best fresh vegetables and fruits the region has to offer backs up to these floating castles. Cleaning services scour the carpets and steam the normal wear and tear back to mint condition. The pastime of the masses on the quay is to glimpse into the glass doors of the rich and famous. Two young blonde girls about 12 years old play cards innocently on the ebony boardroom-size dining table on the back deck unaffected by the gawking. The crews are constantly shining brass and polishing decks. But despite all of the influence that comes from the very wealthy, the town has retained a very charming French village feel.
Before I leave St. Tropez, I have to report on what happened in the afternoon while we were making our way to the harbor. The girls were relaxing at the bow of the boat on the netting that makes a wide hammock between the two pontoons. It is a perfect spot for relaxing in the Mediterranean sun. 4 dolphins that seem to come out of nowhere entertained us for about 15 minutes. They played right between the two pontoons of the boat darting back and forth, flirting with the boat as if it was a long lost companion they were escorting to its next destination. You could almost reach down and touch them as they breached the water right under us. I got the feeling that these intelligent animals knew exactly what they were doing in giving us a thrill. One stayed longer than the rest, making sure we got enough photos and video before diving right to the bottom of the sea out of site. I loved St. Tropez.
The next day we headed to Canne. It’s one of the other jewels in the triple crown of wealthy playgrounds of the rich and famous along the Cotz d Azure. This gem of a city also has these huge yachts dominating the marinas. We have been lucky in always finding a berth. We went to the Muse de Castre, an old castle now used to house an interesting collection of pre-Columbian American art mixed with relics from New Guinea. Obviously a donation to the city by an earlier world traveler bringing back the strange and unique items of exotic cultures a half a world away. And just to round out the collection they had some paintings by various semi-famous artists. We climbed up the tower and got a commanding view of the entire city sprawled out beneath us. In the evening we were treated to a beautiful fireworks display lighting up the sky with bouquets of light.
St. Tropez is really a beautiful town that has aged well with a patina only centuries of use can give. At the top of the hill is the old citadel that protected the town in earlier times of constant attacks and sieges. The narrow streets go in no particular direction, making the town more like a life-size maze with designer stores as the reward for finding you way through. The weather was slightly humid, but didn’t seem to diminish the money flowing in a tidal storm all around the port area. There is a whole industry built around servicing the very wealthy. Vans of the very best fresh vegetables and fruits the region has to offer backs up to these floating castles. Cleaning services scour the carpets and steam the normal wear and tear back to mint condition. The pastime of the masses on the quay is to glimpse into the glass doors of the rich and famous. Two young blonde girls about 12 years old play cards innocently on the ebony boardroom-size dining table on the back deck unaffected by the gawking. The crews are constantly shining brass and polishing decks. But despite all of the influence that comes from the very wealthy, the town has retained a very charming French village feel.
Before I leave St. Tropez, I have to report on what happened in the afternoon while we were making our way to the harbor. The girls were relaxing at the bow of the boat on the netting that makes a wide hammock between the two pontoons. It is a perfect spot for relaxing in the Mediterranean sun. 4 dolphins that seem to come out of nowhere entertained us for about 15 minutes. They played right between the two pontoons of the boat darting back and forth, flirting with the boat as if it was a long lost companion they were escorting to its next destination. You could almost reach down and touch them as they breached the water right under us. I got the feeling that these intelligent animals knew exactly what they were doing in giving us a thrill. One stayed longer than the rest, making sure we got enough photos and video before diving right to the bottom of the sea out of site. I loved St. Tropez.
The next day we headed to Canne. It’s one of the other jewels in the triple crown of wealthy playgrounds of the rich and famous along the Cotz d Azure. This gem of a city also has these huge yachts dominating the marinas. We have been lucky in always finding a berth. We went to the Muse de Castre, an old castle now used to house an interesting collection of pre-Columbian American art mixed with relics from New Guinea. Obviously a donation to the city by an earlier world traveler bringing back the strange and unique items of exotic cultures a half a world away. And just to round out the collection they had some paintings by various semi-famous artists. We climbed up the tower and got a commanding view of the entire city sprawled out beneath us. In the evening we were treated to a beautiful fireworks display lighting up the sky with bouquets of light.
Welcome to France, Open Your Wallet.
It’s great to be back in Toulon. And it was nice to see that the Mistral winds had not taken away my boat. It was as I left it 2 and a half months ago except for my three daughters that have been staying on it. They have been marooned for about 5 days waiting for me to catch up with them. The batteries had been drained for a couple of days and they thought they were out of water. I showed them how to pump the water when the batteries are gone. We stayed for a couple of more days trying to find my bike and dingy that I had shipped over here. Turns out they were being held hostage by the customs. Just pay them 500 euro and we could get them out of hock. We ended up leaving the money with the capitanaria and heading to Porquerolles some islands right off of Toulon. It was a welcome break. Very beautiful islands. It is where Napoleon sent his best soldiers that had done heroric deeds as a reward and to recover. Seemed like a fitting place after our ordeal in getting to France. There is an old fort up at the top of the hill still giving a commanding presents to the area. We met a British couple and spent a couple of hours swapping political views, customs and ethnocentric habits. It was fun getting a British take on Americans and the cultural differences between us. The next day we went back to Toulon to pick up my FedEx deliveries which fortunately had finally arrived. We made one last trip to the Carrefour (Frances version of Wal-Mart) to stock up on as much as we could carry and set our sails east. We got out of Toulon so late, we ended up going to Porquerolles one more night before heading off to St. Tropez.
Toulon at last
The next day, I caught the train to Toulon from Paris. It is a beautiful way to travel through France. I am amazed at how open everything is. Most of the trip was traveling through verdant landscapes of va0p[o’rrying shades of green with rolling hills and crazy-quilt farmlands. The small villages that punctuated the journey were quaint stone houses and stores. What forests you do see seem to be new growth and managed. It looks like they are used more for the wood production than growing unmaintained. One interesting thing I noticed is that almost all the cows were an off white color and loved lying on the ground. I saw very few standing in the fields. They would group together in the corner of the field with obviously nothing to do but gossip all day about the farmer and his wife. I guess it is just part of the kick-back French attitude.
And So The Adventure Continues
I am sitting in my hotel room in Paris, at 3 in the morning staring at the ceiling just a little too long. I have tossed and turned enough to pull all the blankets loose from the bed, read Time magazine from cover to cover and looked out my window for hints of daylight Ah jet lag, you gotta love it. So I decided to put in my first entry into the sequel of “Where in the world is Alan”. I still have the kidney stone with me, but the stint was taken out and the doctor gave me a hesitant pass on leaving the country. With a medicine cabinet full of Vicadin and antibiotics, I look forward to joining my kids that have been marooned on my boat waiting for me to catch up with them.
Getting ready to spend the next year abroad is a formable task. What to bring and what to leave behind becomes a sort your life into a 4-bin proposition. I am allowed to check two bags on British Airways that cannot weigh more than 32 kilos each. Since I can’t find my kilo scale at home, I am forced to guess about how much to put into the bags. I can also bring one carry on and my laptop. So I pack my life up into 3 neatly packaged suitcases, putting the heaviest things in the carryon, (fortunately they don’t weigh that) and hope for the best. The rest of my life is stowed away in storage, waiting for a return trip. At the ticket counter, with fingers crossed, I place the two big suitcases on the scale. Amazingly one of them weighs EXACTLY 32 kilos. And the other one weighs 32.7 kilos. The agent squints his eyes and tells me to toss the last .7 kilos. My plea for .7-kilo leniency falls on deaf ears. Even offering to pay a little extra doesn’t work. It is about the health of the workers. They can’t lift more than 32 kilos without straining something. So I pull out my empty gym bag and everyone seems to be happy. I am just grateful they did not weigh my carryon, which is close to the same weight.
I flew into London’s Heathrow airport and head for the baggage claim. As I am pulling my carryon off the plane, the extended handle tubes bend into submission from all the extra weight. I am sure no one has ever tried to get so much into such a little bag. Waiting at the luggage carousel I have those fleeting thought of “what if they are lost, where will I ever catch up with them, how am I going to deal with missing luggage syndrome”. But out of the jaws of baggage hell, they appear on the carrousel. Man they are heavy. As I lift the second suitcase, the handle comes off in my hand. I forgot about my health. Three bags weighing a total of about 216 lbs of luggage is a lot of weight to be lugging around all by myself. I talk to the ticket agent and am told to get to Toulon by train, I have to take the Paddington express to Waterloo station, and then transfer to the chunnel. When I reach Paris, take the underground to Guar Lyon, and transfer to the Toulon train. The tricky part is I only have 25 minutes to get from the Paris station to Guar Lyon. He doubts I will make it. So do I. But if I miss that train, I have to wait until 11 am the next day to catch the Toulon train. It is worth the try. But gathering all 3 suitcases and my laptop, going down 3 flights of stairs, wandering around a huge train terminal with no real idea where I am going, asking for directions, and getting on the wrong train, jumping off running across the platform to the just departing train, traveling across town and lugging my gaggle of luggage back up 2 flights of stairs, getting through the turn styles all proves too much. I wasn’t even close to catching the train. So I find myself staying in Paris for the night.
Getting ready to spend the next year abroad is a formable task. What to bring and what to leave behind becomes a sort your life into a 4-bin proposition. I am allowed to check two bags on British Airways that cannot weigh more than 32 kilos each. Since I can’t find my kilo scale at home, I am forced to guess about how much to put into the bags. I can also bring one carry on and my laptop. So I pack my life up into 3 neatly packaged suitcases, putting the heaviest things in the carryon, (fortunately they don’t weigh that) and hope for the best. The rest of my life is stowed away in storage, waiting for a return trip. At the ticket counter, with fingers crossed, I place the two big suitcases on the scale. Amazingly one of them weighs EXACTLY 32 kilos. And the other one weighs 32.7 kilos. The agent squints his eyes and tells me to toss the last .7 kilos. My plea for .7-kilo leniency falls on deaf ears. Even offering to pay a little extra doesn’t work. It is about the health of the workers. They can’t lift more than 32 kilos without straining something. So I pull out my empty gym bag and everyone seems to be happy. I am just grateful they did not weigh my carryon, which is close to the same weight.
I flew into London’s Heathrow airport and head for the baggage claim. As I am pulling my carryon off the plane, the extended handle tubes bend into submission from all the extra weight. I am sure no one has ever tried to get so much into such a little bag. Waiting at the luggage carousel I have those fleeting thought of “what if they are lost, where will I ever catch up with them, how am I going to deal with missing luggage syndrome”. But out of the jaws of baggage hell, they appear on the carrousel. Man they are heavy. As I lift the second suitcase, the handle comes off in my hand. I forgot about my health. Three bags weighing a total of about 216 lbs of luggage is a lot of weight to be lugging around all by myself. I talk to the ticket agent and am told to get to Toulon by train, I have to take the Paddington express to Waterloo station, and then transfer to the chunnel. When I reach Paris, take the underground to Guar Lyon, and transfer to the Toulon train. The tricky part is I only have 25 minutes to get from the Paris station to Guar Lyon. He doubts I will make it. So do I. But if I miss that train, I have to wait until 11 am the next day to catch the Toulon train. It is worth the try. But gathering all 3 suitcases and my laptop, going down 3 flights of stairs, wandering around a huge train terminal with no real idea where I am going, asking for directions, and getting on the wrong train, jumping off running across the platform to the just departing train, traveling across town and lugging my gaggle of luggage back up 2 flights of stairs, getting through the turn styles all proves too much. I wasn’t even close to catching the train. So I find myself staying in Paris for the night.
Nice
Nice
Well I made it. The flight from San Francisco to Paris is long and tedious. Air France tries to make it as enjoyable as possible with individual TV screens to select movies and other entertainment. Having the menu printed in French some how made the food better than most airlines, though it is still airline food.
I arrived in Nice in the afternoon, and rented a car. I think I will plan on staying in Nice for a couple of days exploring galleries and old roman ruins. The city is beautiful with lots of grand stone buildings that have been here longer than California has been a state. Founded by the Greeks and then later controlled by the Romans, there is a sense of history that plays out in spotted locations throughout the region. It is a very clean city with no homeless people and no garbage on the streets. There are buildings that could use a fresh coat of paint, but somehow the patina on the surface somehow just makes them more charming. The traffic is difficult. Narrow roads and way too many cars make for constant congestion. Gridlock is common but everyone seems to be tolerant of it all. I actually enjoy the stoplights, giving me a chance to take a breath and try to figure out where I am. And then there is the ubiquitous motorbikes. They buzz around you like flies at a picnic, weaving through traffic like a wild thread in a Persian carpet, often being the only ones making any real progress through the traffic.
But it is the people that make such a strong impression. You immediately notice how thin and in shape everyone is. It is quite shocking how use we are in America to an overweight population. And everyone dresses so much better. Their clothes fit and are quite stylish. You can tell that every one of them thought about what they are wearing and because they are all fit, their clothes are tailored and much more stylish. Lots of biking, jogging and rollerblade goes on especially along the promenade next to the beach. The French are quite beautiful as well. Lots of thick black hair, dark eyes and strong facial features. Many of the older women are quite short and remind me of my maternal ancestry. I wish I knew more French. Even a little would be very helpful. When you are not in a tourist area, less English is understood. But everyone seems to be game in trying to figure out if they can be of assistance.
And then of course is the beautiful Mediterranean. It calls me like sirens. I can’t help but gaze upon it and picture sailing along the coast away from all of the congestion and lack of parking. I can hardly wait to pick up my sailboat and start this adventure.
Day 2
It is amazing how much difference a day makes. I am starting to figure out my way around a little. It is not that I don’t get lost, I just stay lost for shorter periods of time. I managed to find a drug store and successfully bought a few essentials. The French language is just close enough that you think you might be able to pick out what you are getting. Hopefully the shampoo I bought is not some kind of hair remover. Parking, traffic and one-way roads that always seem to be going the wrong direction makes walking the easies way to get around. I am parking my car near where I think I want to be and then spend the day just walking around. I wouldn’t even have a care except I do need to get to Marseille and back to check on the boat this week. They do have a bus and train that goes there, but it is difficult dealing with my entire luggage. Getting around and speaking the language seems to be the most difficult thing to resolve. One of those hand held GPS and language translator PDA’s would be way worth the money. Jessica, maybe you and Scott could do a little research for me and find one that would work well. I would like it to be hand held rather than for a car. Make sure it has Europe maps loaded into it. I would love to buy it on the Internet and have it shipped to me here. Or if they don’t ship to Europe, maybe I could have it sent to you and then you could FedEx it to me at the port. Let me know what you find out. If you want to handle the whole thing, I can email you my credit card information. You guys might want to download a basic Italian language program just to learn the very basics. I think there are some ipod programs that are free. I have been practicing my Spanish and totally ignored French. That might have been a mistake.
I visited the Marc Chagall museum this afternoon. It is a beautiful national museum holding a small body of work by Chagall. Most of the paintings were interpretations of biblical stories. He manages to allude to the event, while capturing the spirit and emotion of what occurred. The Matisse exhibit is closed for a couple of months. There are still some antiquity museums, modern art museums and a bunch of Roman ruins to visit.
Everything is scaled down a bit in France. There seem to be no large box stores or for that matter, I have seen few chain stores at all. Mostly boutiques owned by a family. They have some very small cars. One looks closer to a roller skate then a car. But then these cars seem to find parking in places that just would not be possible in a regular compact. About the biggest cars get are economy cars. However, there is defiantly an undercurrent of American pop culture. It is in the music they listen to, the products that are found on the shelves and the advertising of American brands. Prices on things are marked about the same as the U.S. If it wasn’t for the fact that a dollar only buys you $.65. So everything is really about 40% more. I haven’t seen anything that would be cheaper there than in the U.S. So I guess you should bring what you can over and try to not have to buy anything over here.
Day 4
After spending the morning in Nice, I decided to head down to Marseille. It is about a 2-hour drive by freeway. Toll roads along the way. I think the tolls ran about 20€. There was very little population between the two cities. Mostly rugged land with a few small towns sprinkled about. I went to the airport to try and rent a GPS system that would help me around, but none were available. I did however hit pay dirt and found a huge shopping mall. It is the first one I have seen and had huge stores. IKEA was there and I managed to pick up most of the kitchen items we will need. They also have a store called Castorama which is like Wal-Mart in scope and size. I bought a bunch of the basics that we will need.
I also found a phone store in the mall and one of the sales clerks spoke very good English. I think I have figured out how the phone system and internet is going to work. Without going into all of the details, here is the basic choices that seem to make the most sense.
I can sign up for one of these services and we can share the internet time. Just have to keep track of the time each of you spend on the internet.
28€ a month internet only plan (one year commitment)
- 3 hours internet inside France included.
- 1.5€ for every 30 minutes internet outside of France
- Anywhere there is cell coverage, there is internet coverage
44€ a month internet and phone plan (one year commitment)
- One hour usage of phone in France included
- No charge for incoming calls from anywhere including U.S. and Europe
- Unlimited Internet and GPS access in France
- Anywhere there is cell coverage there is internet and GPS coverage
- 1.5€ for every 30 minutes internet and GPS outside of France
- 1€ per minute for calls outside of France.
Just a few catches we have to solve to make this work. The internet will work on the phone, but we may need a PC to access the internet on a computer. Apple might not work. They are checking in to that for me. Also I have to open a French bank account and deposit money into that account to pay the bills. That should not be too difficult however. If we need a PC, how much is a cheap one that we could use only for the internet? It is possible we can use virtual PC from Apple or something. Have to do more research.
Prepaid Phone.
What I would suggest if you need a phone number for people to call you while here is to buy a prepaid phone. You just add time to the phone like a phone card. The phones are only about 20€ to purchase. I am not sure how much the minutes cost, but if incoming calls are free with them, it would only cost for the calls you make to the US. And if we use Skype for that, your phone costs should be pretty low each month. I will try and find out more information on this idea.
B-R-E-A-T-H-L-E-S-S
It is the only word I can think of to call my new boat. I drove down from Marseille to Port Napoleon, which is really just a dock section of Saint Louise. It is a quaint little town with narrow streets and small homes. The marina is big and functions as both an industrial port and pleasure yacht harbor. There is a nice restaurant with very reasonable pricing, a laundry mat, showers and best of all Wi-Fi (or as the French say Wee-Fee) internet connection. Remi from the office took me down to look at my boat and I fell in love all over again. There is so much room and it is so light and airy. I remember all the reasons I wanted this boat. It has beautiful lines and the staterooms are huge. I feel like I am 6 years old again and Christmas morning has finally arrived. After a little negotiating, they agreed to let me spend the night on the boat. The handover date is officially until the 8th. It will be great to spend some time to figure out what I will need and take some measurements. I just can’t get over how much more room there is and what a dramatic differences it is being higher above the water. In the next couple of days they will take me out and explain all of the equipment. I am a little overwhelmed at the moment. Hopefully I will get comfortable with everything and be ready to start this adventure. I am so glad I came over for a little while before starting on our trip. I have a much better idea of what I will need to bring over here when I come back in May. It is too dark now, but I promise to take some pictures tomorrow.
Day 8
I have been so busy these last couple of days that I have not had a second to write. Getting all of the things I need for the boat has been pretty time consuming. I got back so late, I couldn’t get Wi-Fi access. Yesterday was a big day. We had a sea trial on the boat. Went out sailing in the bay here at Port Napoleon, which is really in the town of Saint Louise. The commissioning crew was worried about a storm that was coming in, and wanted to do the test sail before it came. As it turned out, there was very little wind, which is unusual for this area. The weather is kind of like the San Francisco bay here, steady breeze most of the time. They had to calibrate all the instrumentation. Part of doing that was done by spinning the boat 3 or 4 times which some how told the instruments where north was and who knows what else. There was a problem with the speed gage but it turned out to be just a loose wire. The trial went well. I don’t think that I will have any problems sailing it. There are a few things that are different in sailing a catamaran, how the main sail is handled, and how to trim the sail when in extremely strong winds. But nothing too different. That part seems pretty doable. Docking is another story. It was a little more difficult than I expected. This boat is so much bigger; it is a little intimidating to me. It is also higher, which makes the impact of wind on the boat more of a factor. It took three of them to slide the boat into the slip and secure all of the lines. In some ways, the boat is so much more maneuverable than a mono-hull. With two engines, you can go in very slow and very precisely. You don’t even use the steering wheel. It is just a totally different way to dock. I plan on taking it out and practicing next to a buoy with plenty of room around me until I get comfortable with the steering. Hopefully it is something that I can do on my own.
One of the guys with Lagoon is a total whiz kid about all of the boat and equipment. He went over the gps plot map, autopilot, speed, depth etc. Of course I only absorbed about a tenth of it, but they left me with a stack of manuals that will take weeks to go through. At least I got a glimpse of what I needed to learn. It is really a much more complete system than what I had before. I think it will really help in navigating this little adventure. Then we went over every inch of the boat explaining what every shut off valve, hose, electrical switch, breaker, stereo, fridge, etc. I got a lot to learn and familiarize myself with. I am really glad that I have this time by myself to figure out all of this stuff. By the time you guys are ready to board, I will have this all down.
We finished about midnight last night. I am so happy with the boat. It is just perfect. I know it is going to be a little challenging, but well worth it in the end. I am excited about spending time over here traveling in such a unique way to see Europe the way few people have ever really gotten to do. It is going to be a great adventure that I am looking forward to sharing with all of you.
Settling in
I have been so busy getting things organized, meeting with the Lagoon people and trying to do a little planning that I have not had much time to just relax and write a little. Today was better. I have been studying the pilot books trying to figure out what ports and what harbors to cover in the next couple of weeks and where the best place to leave the boat for a month and a half. It has been so windy here, especially today with winds up to 50 knots. When there is a depression passing over central France and the cold air over the land is blocked by the Alps it escapes along the Rhone Valley. The wind blows out of the mouth of the Rhone with the force of a mythical dragon. Port Napoleon is right at the mouth of the Rhone, so it gets the blunt of that force. They call this wind the Mistral. Even just a few miles away, the wind is much milder. Nonetheless, it affects the entire coast of France from the Rhone to about Toulon.
The town of Saint Louise is quite small. I walked into town yesterday to get some things I needed. It is mostly a main street with shops and restaurants. The only stores of any size are two grocery stores. They would both fit together in the corner of a typical Albertsons. At 12:00 the entire town shuts down including the grocery stores. Steel doors roll down, and lights go off. The only thing open are the restaurants, which fill to capacity. Everyone sits around eating lunch and talking together. There is literally nothing else to do, so everyone participates. I am sure it contributes to a very tight community atmosphere.
Sometimes I see something that is so stereotypical French that I almost have to laugh. Like seeing an order French guy with a long mustache that is waxed to a point on both sides. I mean isn’t that from about 6 decades ago? I expect him to burst into a song from “Mulon Rouge”. Or a young woman biking down the road with a basket of bagets balanced on the back of her rusty black bike. The French also have bureaucracy down to an art. They make the DMV seem like an efficient operating machine. If you need answers to anything, it is a tedious process. I am trying to get clearance to leave the port and pass through customs. There is some glitch since I don’t have coastguard registration on the boat yet. It is pending, and should not be a problem, but getting all the documentation in order is a major full time job. The Lagoon people are use to it and are weaving their way deftly through the red tape.
I am falling in love with all of the French cheeses. It is just the best I have tasted and the variety is about 10 times what we have. The cost is also very reasonable, combined with a .40 € baget fresh out of the oven, and you have a good cheap meal. The chocolate is also very good here. Probably not the best two foods to fall in love with, but hey we don’t always pick where love comes from. I keep thinking that all of this walking will be my saving grace. At least I have not started in on the pastries yet.
There seems to be just an undercurrent of American influence. There are a few McDonalds, and occasionally other chains show up, but not that common. It is probably the music that is more universal. Radio stations seem to seamlessly blend the latest American rock with pop French singers. I would say that about 70% of the music is in English and all the same that we listen to. I find that interesting because not that many people speak English here. Most have no idea what you are talking about. Some have about the same as my (I should have paid more attention in high school) Spanish. I would say only about 10% are fluent enough to carry on a conversation. I thought it would be higher than that. But they are all very polite, and try to pick through my charade gestures.
Boating is very popular in Europe and particularly in France. As the summer turns up the thermostat, crowds flock to the Mediterranean like geese on their annual flight. There are so many boat owners that berthing a boat during the winter is pretty hard to do and very expensive. So the custom is to haul out the boats and put them on stilts during the winter. This marina has about 1500 boats on land and only about 250 regular berths. It is one of the few ports on the Mediterranean that has a lot of land around it, probably because of the strong Mistral winds that are a constant here.
I sit here typing on my computer, looking out all of the windows watching the boats do their dance in the wind. The subtle song of the wind blows through the mainstays adding a percussion element to the melody as reef lines bat against the stately masts that swing from side to side. Flags flutter, and sea gulls struggle against the Mistral wind. It is really beautiful here. The light is that same light that entranced Van Gough, who painted in this area for several years before he finally went crazy and committed himself to the asylum. It was here that he cut off his ear after a passionate fight with Gauguin and ultimately ended his life in a nearby field. Most of the impressionist painters were drawn to the south of France to record the buttery light that makes everything have a celestial hue. Monet, Gauguin, Cezanne, Chagall, Picasso, all painted some of the most famous masterpieces amongst the winter trees, resort promenades and fields of golden grain. I can’t wait to share this piece of the world with you. 4
Up Up and Away
After a very French breakfast of cheese, croissants with Nutella and fruit, we finally left Port Napoleon. All of our papers were in order, everything signed, dotted and notarized. Well at least we thought. We were out on the water for less than an hour before the French police pulled up to us in their foreboding gray speedboat and asked for our documentation. We gave them everything that we received from Port Napoleon, only to be told that everything was not in order. The problem was we did not have registry of the boat from the U.S. coastguard. We tried to explain that we had a letter from the Coast Guard that registration had been applied for, but it would take 8 weeks to get the final registration papers. Well that just was not going to work. For one thing the document from the Coast Guard stating that we had applied for certification and was granted a temporary permit was a fax and not an original. And second, they did not allow a temporary registration. Even though we had been cleared to go, things just were not proper. We would have to pay a 300€ fine. And of course it had to be cash. So we had to go to the nearest port and wait for clearance. They told us to have a nice lunch in the town and come back at 2:30. Sometimes there is just no reasoning, or trying to work things out. So we headed to a nearby restaurant for the local cosine. It really was a beautiful port town. Fishing fleets were bringing their days catch of silver mackerel and who knows what else. Sea gulls knew their meal ticket had arrived in port and were everywhere squawking for their lunch as well. The houses and shops were stone with bright turquoise shutters. Like all of this area, the entire population had filled the restaurants and were enjoying the warm sun and warm companionship of their friends. After lunch, we went back to the police boat, where our papers were being held hostage. I managed to spring them with the six 50 euro notes. A ticket was issued, and we were assured that we could now sail wherever we wanted in France until our final papers came. Was this just a shakedown? Well what ever it was, we were free to go.
The warm sun somehow melted all the unpleasantness away and the salt breeze sent us on our way. It was how I imagined the day to be. Sailing right along the coast, breezing by quaint seaside towns with hunched over old French women walking to market. The terrain is rocky with some small scrub. And then we crossed the bay, far enough from land that we had to trust our GPS waypoints that I mapped out to guide us to our destination. We decided to head for some islands right across from Marseille. The islands in a former life was a federal prison. In fact it was the very prison Alexander Dumont wrote about in the famous story of the Man In The Iron Mask. Where the twin brother of Louie the XVI was imprisoned for life. It is about a 5-hour sail from Port Napoleon. As the day grew dim, and the sky turned to gold, the fog started to drift in. After reading through some manuals, and pecking at the navigation equipment, I figured out how to turn on the radar. It never got thick enough to really need it, but it was probably a good idea to figure out how to use the radar. Then out of the foggy mist, we could see Marseille. The islands we were headed for blended in to the hillside, but as we got closer, we could see the old fortress. It looked more like a castle than a prison. And as the light dimmed, the city started to come alive one twinkle at a time. The castle walls washed in light and the chateau on the hill was lit from all sides. It looked more like the Disneyland castle. We waited for the fireworks that never came. I feel so thrilled that we actually arrived at where we hoped to navigate to, just relying on our waypoints to guide us. The island port is really beautiful. A nice harbor well protected with hills on both sides and a water break with a stoic lighthouse guarding the entrance. And now for our next challenge. Docking the boat by dropping the anchor and backing into the quay. Fortunately we found a space that had plenty of width. As smooth as butter, we slipped into the spot. I feel like today, things are going as I was really hoping would happen. Parking the boat without a problem, finding our way here, and being in this beautiful country. Yeah, this is the adventure I signed up for.
The next morning, we broke anchor and headed up the coast. There was no breeze, so we had to motor along. Not my favorite thing to do. I would much rather feel the breeze pushing us along. But the sun was enough to warm us to our bones. We were headed to Port De Cassis, on the way to St Tropez. Once again we trusted our calculations, waypoints and by typing in 23’ 12° • 8N 05°32’ • 1E we were guided right into port. And what a beautiful port. The harbor was small with little room to manuver. Not a good thing for a new owner of a rather wide boat. But somehow, I managed to deftly weave my way around to far end of the harbor. At first we couldn’t see any spaces available, then we spotted a short one on the end of one of the docks. It was very tight, and my adrenalin was rushing as I slowly backed into the space by operating both engines in a synchronized effort. We managed to not slam into any other boats and kept from backing into the dock. Not bad for a rookie. I am beginning to think I can handle this oversized baby.
The town is laid out around the harbor. It looks more like a movie set than a real town. Because it is such a small harbor, it has kept a lot of its French storybook charm. Little restaurants selling mostly fresh-caught seafood crowed in between shops selling expensive clothing. French flags flying from wrought iron balconies. Tiled roofs crowning three story apartments. And the French, as if they are extras in the movie, are meticulously dressed in the latest designer offerings. Old ladies dressed to the nines. Even our waiter is wearing Dolce shirt and Armani levis and a movie star smile. Lunch is not just a meal, it is an event, not to be hurried. The plates are beautifully served in that should I take a picture of it or eat it style. We walk down the narrow streets unable to pass all the flavors of a Glacier. It is hard to call it ice cream, because the flavors are so much more than American ice cream. And then there are the chocolate stores. The shop itself looks like a box all wrapped up in yellow paint with detailed gold trim. The stacks of cookies and boxes of chocolates are like the inside of a Faberge Egg. They make chocolate look like everything from olives to silvery sardines. And they do these miniature fruit baskets so real they almost look like you are eating something healthy. But the taste is nothing like healthy. Smooth rich, dark, the French know how to make chocolate. We never make it to our next port. I can’t get enough of this place.
Mistral is Back
Bidding adou to Cassis, we head back to Marseille. Great winds, we sail all the way into port. It is Saturday, and the entrance to the port is marked by a beautiful domed Romanesque church. The wind is quite strong, but we manage to get ito the large harbor and check in with the captaineria. He tells me he can only give me a berth overnight, but I have to leave by 9 the next morning. Kip’s plane doesn’t come in until the evening the next day so that is not going to work. So he directs me to the nautical club. Well no one is there during the weekend, so I just stay where I am, hoping that I am not taking someone’s spot. As the afternoon wears on, sailboats start streaming in like chicks to the mother hen, seeking shelter for the night. Monte and Benjamin go into town while I wait with fingers crossed that I don’t have to move the boat by myself. Everything works out and we are able to spend the night. Monte and Benjamin’s flight leaves at 6:30 the next morning, so we say our goodbuy’s that night. I am so appreciative of their help in getting things started. I could not have sailed by myself. Getting used to this boat, and dealing with the size, I really needed some help. Monte is a great friend to come and help me with my first week in France.
The next day we head to Toulon. Strong winds and big waves make the going rough. It becomes clear that maybe we should re-evaluate our plans. We decide to head into the safety of Cassis. I was so charmed by the little town clustered around the marina, that I was glad to be there once more. And then the Mistrals continued. Winds so fierce that we couldn’t safely leave the harbor. We ended up renting a car and driving back to Marseille to see a little more of the town. Finally the winds eased a bit, and we decided to make a run for Toulon. The winds were strong, but not the gale force winds that had been blistering for the last couple of days. Once we get to Toulon, the winds will be behind us, and we should have good sailing the rest of the week.
Toulon is a Navy town, housing the second largest port for the French navy, and the largest French navy port on the Meditearrian. The harbor is huge, and this is clearly a town of industry and commerce. The weather is definitely less windy, and the sun feels great. We are berth right on the walkway of all the restaurants and tourist attractions.
Well I made it. The flight from San Francisco to Paris is long and tedious. Air France tries to make it as enjoyable as possible with individual TV screens to select movies and other entertainment. Having the menu printed in French some how made the food better than most airlines, though it is still airline food.
I arrived in Nice in the afternoon, and rented a car. I think I will plan on staying in Nice for a couple of days exploring galleries and old roman ruins. The city is beautiful with lots of grand stone buildings that have been here longer than California has been a state. Founded by the Greeks and then later controlled by the Romans, there is a sense of history that plays out in spotted locations throughout the region. It is a very clean city with no homeless people and no garbage on the streets. There are buildings that could use a fresh coat of paint, but somehow the patina on the surface somehow just makes them more charming. The traffic is difficult. Narrow roads and way too many cars make for constant congestion. Gridlock is common but everyone seems to be tolerant of it all. I actually enjoy the stoplights, giving me a chance to take a breath and try to figure out where I am. And then there is the ubiquitous motorbikes. They buzz around you like flies at a picnic, weaving through traffic like a wild thread in a Persian carpet, often being the only ones making any real progress through the traffic.
But it is the people that make such a strong impression. You immediately notice how thin and in shape everyone is. It is quite shocking how use we are in America to an overweight population. And everyone dresses so much better. Their clothes fit and are quite stylish. You can tell that every one of them thought about what they are wearing and because they are all fit, their clothes are tailored and much more stylish. Lots of biking, jogging and rollerblade goes on especially along the promenade next to the beach. The French are quite beautiful as well. Lots of thick black hair, dark eyes and strong facial features. Many of the older women are quite short and remind me of my maternal ancestry. I wish I knew more French. Even a little would be very helpful. When you are not in a tourist area, less English is understood. But everyone seems to be game in trying to figure out if they can be of assistance.
And then of course is the beautiful Mediterranean. It calls me like sirens. I can’t help but gaze upon it and picture sailing along the coast away from all of the congestion and lack of parking. I can hardly wait to pick up my sailboat and start this adventure.
Day 2
It is amazing how much difference a day makes. I am starting to figure out my way around a little. It is not that I don’t get lost, I just stay lost for shorter periods of time. I managed to find a drug store and successfully bought a few essentials. The French language is just close enough that you think you might be able to pick out what you are getting. Hopefully the shampoo I bought is not some kind of hair remover. Parking, traffic and one-way roads that always seem to be going the wrong direction makes walking the easies way to get around. I am parking my car near where I think I want to be and then spend the day just walking around. I wouldn’t even have a care except I do need to get to Marseille and back to check on the boat this week. They do have a bus and train that goes there, but it is difficult dealing with my entire luggage. Getting around and speaking the language seems to be the most difficult thing to resolve. One of those hand held GPS and language translator PDA’s would be way worth the money. Jessica, maybe you and Scott could do a little research for me and find one that would work well. I would like it to be hand held rather than for a car. Make sure it has Europe maps loaded into it. I would love to buy it on the Internet and have it shipped to me here. Or if they don’t ship to Europe, maybe I could have it sent to you and then you could FedEx it to me at the port. Let me know what you find out. If you want to handle the whole thing, I can email you my credit card information. You guys might want to download a basic Italian language program just to learn the very basics. I think there are some ipod programs that are free. I have been practicing my Spanish and totally ignored French. That might have been a mistake.
I visited the Marc Chagall museum this afternoon. It is a beautiful national museum holding a small body of work by Chagall. Most of the paintings were interpretations of biblical stories. He manages to allude to the event, while capturing the spirit and emotion of what occurred. The Matisse exhibit is closed for a couple of months. There are still some antiquity museums, modern art museums and a bunch of Roman ruins to visit.
Everything is scaled down a bit in France. There seem to be no large box stores or for that matter, I have seen few chain stores at all. Mostly boutiques owned by a family. They have some very small cars. One looks closer to a roller skate then a car. But then these cars seem to find parking in places that just would not be possible in a regular compact. About the biggest cars get are economy cars. However, there is defiantly an undercurrent of American pop culture. It is in the music they listen to, the products that are found on the shelves and the advertising of American brands. Prices on things are marked about the same as the U.S. If it wasn’t for the fact that a dollar only buys you $.65. So everything is really about 40% more. I haven’t seen anything that would be cheaper there than in the U.S. So I guess you should bring what you can over and try to not have to buy anything over here.
Day 4
After spending the morning in Nice, I decided to head down to Marseille. It is about a 2-hour drive by freeway. Toll roads along the way. I think the tolls ran about 20€. There was very little population between the two cities. Mostly rugged land with a few small towns sprinkled about. I went to the airport to try and rent a GPS system that would help me around, but none were available. I did however hit pay dirt and found a huge shopping mall. It is the first one I have seen and had huge stores. IKEA was there and I managed to pick up most of the kitchen items we will need. They also have a store called Castorama which is like Wal-Mart in scope and size. I bought a bunch of the basics that we will need.
I also found a phone store in the mall and one of the sales clerks spoke very good English. I think I have figured out how the phone system and internet is going to work. Without going into all of the details, here is the basic choices that seem to make the most sense.
I can sign up for one of these services and we can share the internet time. Just have to keep track of the time each of you spend on the internet.
28€ a month internet only plan (one year commitment)
- 3 hours internet inside France included.
- 1.5€ for every 30 minutes internet outside of France
- Anywhere there is cell coverage, there is internet coverage
44€ a month internet and phone plan (one year commitment)
- One hour usage of phone in France included
- No charge for incoming calls from anywhere including U.S. and Europe
- Unlimited Internet and GPS access in France
- Anywhere there is cell coverage there is internet and GPS coverage
- 1.5€ for every 30 minutes internet and GPS outside of France
- 1€ per minute for calls outside of France.
Just a few catches we have to solve to make this work. The internet will work on the phone, but we may need a PC to access the internet on a computer. Apple might not work. They are checking in to that for me. Also I have to open a French bank account and deposit money into that account to pay the bills. That should not be too difficult however. If we need a PC, how much is a cheap one that we could use only for the internet? It is possible we can use virtual PC from Apple or something. Have to do more research.
Prepaid Phone.
What I would suggest if you need a phone number for people to call you while here is to buy a prepaid phone. You just add time to the phone like a phone card. The phones are only about 20€ to purchase. I am not sure how much the minutes cost, but if incoming calls are free with them, it would only cost for the calls you make to the US. And if we use Skype for that, your phone costs should be pretty low each month. I will try and find out more information on this idea.
B-R-E-A-T-H-L-E-S-S
It is the only word I can think of to call my new boat. I drove down from Marseille to Port Napoleon, which is really just a dock section of Saint Louise. It is a quaint little town with narrow streets and small homes. The marina is big and functions as both an industrial port and pleasure yacht harbor. There is a nice restaurant with very reasonable pricing, a laundry mat, showers and best of all Wi-Fi (or as the French say Wee-Fee) internet connection. Remi from the office took me down to look at my boat and I fell in love all over again. There is so much room and it is so light and airy. I remember all the reasons I wanted this boat. It has beautiful lines and the staterooms are huge. I feel like I am 6 years old again and Christmas morning has finally arrived. After a little negotiating, they agreed to let me spend the night on the boat. The handover date is officially until the 8th. It will be great to spend some time to figure out what I will need and take some measurements. I just can’t get over how much more room there is and what a dramatic differences it is being higher above the water. In the next couple of days they will take me out and explain all of the equipment. I am a little overwhelmed at the moment. Hopefully I will get comfortable with everything and be ready to start this adventure. I am so glad I came over for a little while before starting on our trip. I have a much better idea of what I will need to bring over here when I come back in May. It is too dark now, but I promise to take some pictures tomorrow.
Day 8
I have been so busy these last couple of days that I have not had a second to write. Getting all of the things I need for the boat has been pretty time consuming. I got back so late, I couldn’t get Wi-Fi access. Yesterday was a big day. We had a sea trial on the boat. Went out sailing in the bay here at Port Napoleon, which is really in the town of Saint Louise. The commissioning crew was worried about a storm that was coming in, and wanted to do the test sail before it came. As it turned out, there was very little wind, which is unusual for this area. The weather is kind of like the San Francisco bay here, steady breeze most of the time. They had to calibrate all the instrumentation. Part of doing that was done by spinning the boat 3 or 4 times which some how told the instruments where north was and who knows what else. There was a problem with the speed gage but it turned out to be just a loose wire. The trial went well. I don’t think that I will have any problems sailing it. There are a few things that are different in sailing a catamaran, how the main sail is handled, and how to trim the sail when in extremely strong winds. But nothing too different. That part seems pretty doable. Docking is another story. It was a little more difficult than I expected. This boat is so much bigger; it is a little intimidating to me. It is also higher, which makes the impact of wind on the boat more of a factor. It took three of them to slide the boat into the slip and secure all of the lines. In some ways, the boat is so much more maneuverable than a mono-hull. With two engines, you can go in very slow and very precisely. You don’t even use the steering wheel. It is just a totally different way to dock. I plan on taking it out and practicing next to a buoy with plenty of room around me until I get comfortable with the steering. Hopefully it is something that I can do on my own.
One of the guys with Lagoon is a total whiz kid about all of the boat and equipment. He went over the gps plot map, autopilot, speed, depth etc. Of course I only absorbed about a tenth of it, but they left me with a stack of manuals that will take weeks to go through. At least I got a glimpse of what I needed to learn. It is really a much more complete system than what I had before. I think it will really help in navigating this little adventure. Then we went over every inch of the boat explaining what every shut off valve, hose, electrical switch, breaker, stereo, fridge, etc. I got a lot to learn and familiarize myself with. I am really glad that I have this time by myself to figure out all of this stuff. By the time you guys are ready to board, I will have this all down.
We finished about midnight last night. I am so happy with the boat. It is just perfect. I know it is going to be a little challenging, but well worth it in the end. I am excited about spending time over here traveling in such a unique way to see Europe the way few people have ever really gotten to do. It is going to be a great adventure that I am looking forward to sharing with all of you.
Settling in
I have been so busy getting things organized, meeting with the Lagoon people and trying to do a little planning that I have not had much time to just relax and write a little. Today was better. I have been studying the pilot books trying to figure out what ports and what harbors to cover in the next couple of weeks and where the best place to leave the boat for a month and a half. It has been so windy here, especially today with winds up to 50 knots. When there is a depression passing over central France and the cold air over the land is blocked by the Alps it escapes along the Rhone Valley. The wind blows out of the mouth of the Rhone with the force of a mythical dragon. Port Napoleon is right at the mouth of the Rhone, so it gets the blunt of that force. They call this wind the Mistral. Even just a few miles away, the wind is much milder. Nonetheless, it affects the entire coast of France from the Rhone to about Toulon.
The town of Saint Louise is quite small. I walked into town yesterday to get some things I needed. It is mostly a main street with shops and restaurants. The only stores of any size are two grocery stores. They would both fit together in the corner of a typical Albertsons. At 12:00 the entire town shuts down including the grocery stores. Steel doors roll down, and lights go off. The only thing open are the restaurants, which fill to capacity. Everyone sits around eating lunch and talking together. There is literally nothing else to do, so everyone participates. I am sure it contributes to a very tight community atmosphere.
Sometimes I see something that is so stereotypical French that I almost have to laugh. Like seeing an order French guy with a long mustache that is waxed to a point on both sides. I mean isn’t that from about 6 decades ago? I expect him to burst into a song from “Mulon Rouge”. Or a young woman biking down the road with a basket of bagets balanced on the back of her rusty black bike. The French also have bureaucracy down to an art. They make the DMV seem like an efficient operating machine. If you need answers to anything, it is a tedious process. I am trying to get clearance to leave the port and pass through customs. There is some glitch since I don’t have coastguard registration on the boat yet. It is pending, and should not be a problem, but getting all the documentation in order is a major full time job. The Lagoon people are use to it and are weaving their way deftly through the red tape.
I am falling in love with all of the French cheeses. It is just the best I have tasted and the variety is about 10 times what we have. The cost is also very reasonable, combined with a .40 € baget fresh out of the oven, and you have a good cheap meal. The chocolate is also very good here. Probably not the best two foods to fall in love with, but hey we don’t always pick where love comes from. I keep thinking that all of this walking will be my saving grace. At least I have not started in on the pastries yet.
There seems to be just an undercurrent of American influence. There are a few McDonalds, and occasionally other chains show up, but not that common. It is probably the music that is more universal. Radio stations seem to seamlessly blend the latest American rock with pop French singers. I would say that about 70% of the music is in English and all the same that we listen to. I find that interesting because not that many people speak English here. Most have no idea what you are talking about. Some have about the same as my (I should have paid more attention in high school) Spanish. I would say only about 10% are fluent enough to carry on a conversation. I thought it would be higher than that. But they are all very polite, and try to pick through my charade gestures.
Boating is very popular in Europe and particularly in France. As the summer turns up the thermostat, crowds flock to the Mediterranean like geese on their annual flight. There are so many boat owners that berthing a boat during the winter is pretty hard to do and very expensive. So the custom is to haul out the boats and put them on stilts during the winter. This marina has about 1500 boats on land and only about 250 regular berths. It is one of the few ports on the Mediterranean that has a lot of land around it, probably because of the strong Mistral winds that are a constant here.
I sit here typing on my computer, looking out all of the windows watching the boats do their dance in the wind. The subtle song of the wind blows through the mainstays adding a percussion element to the melody as reef lines bat against the stately masts that swing from side to side. Flags flutter, and sea gulls struggle against the Mistral wind. It is really beautiful here. The light is that same light that entranced Van Gough, who painted in this area for several years before he finally went crazy and committed himself to the asylum. It was here that he cut off his ear after a passionate fight with Gauguin and ultimately ended his life in a nearby field. Most of the impressionist painters were drawn to the south of France to record the buttery light that makes everything have a celestial hue. Monet, Gauguin, Cezanne, Chagall, Picasso, all painted some of the most famous masterpieces amongst the winter trees, resort promenades and fields of golden grain. I can’t wait to share this piece of the world with you. 4
Up Up and Away
After a very French breakfast of cheese, croissants with Nutella and fruit, we finally left Port Napoleon. All of our papers were in order, everything signed, dotted and notarized. Well at least we thought. We were out on the water for less than an hour before the French police pulled up to us in their foreboding gray speedboat and asked for our documentation. We gave them everything that we received from Port Napoleon, only to be told that everything was not in order. The problem was we did not have registry of the boat from the U.S. coastguard. We tried to explain that we had a letter from the Coast Guard that registration had been applied for, but it would take 8 weeks to get the final registration papers. Well that just was not going to work. For one thing the document from the Coast Guard stating that we had applied for certification and was granted a temporary permit was a fax and not an original. And second, they did not allow a temporary registration. Even though we had been cleared to go, things just were not proper. We would have to pay a 300€ fine. And of course it had to be cash. So we had to go to the nearest port and wait for clearance. They told us to have a nice lunch in the town and come back at 2:30. Sometimes there is just no reasoning, or trying to work things out. So we headed to a nearby restaurant for the local cosine. It really was a beautiful port town. Fishing fleets were bringing their days catch of silver mackerel and who knows what else. Sea gulls knew their meal ticket had arrived in port and were everywhere squawking for their lunch as well. The houses and shops were stone with bright turquoise shutters. Like all of this area, the entire population had filled the restaurants and were enjoying the warm sun and warm companionship of their friends. After lunch, we went back to the police boat, where our papers were being held hostage. I managed to spring them with the six 50 euro notes. A ticket was issued, and we were assured that we could now sail wherever we wanted in France until our final papers came. Was this just a shakedown? Well what ever it was, we were free to go.
The warm sun somehow melted all the unpleasantness away and the salt breeze sent us on our way. It was how I imagined the day to be. Sailing right along the coast, breezing by quaint seaside towns with hunched over old French women walking to market. The terrain is rocky with some small scrub. And then we crossed the bay, far enough from land that we had to trust our GPS waypoints that I mapped out to guide us to our destination. We decided to head for some islands right across from Marseille. The islands in a former life was a federal prison. In fact it was the very prison Alexander Dumont wrote about in the famous story of the Man In The Iron Mask. Where the twin brother of Louie the XVI was imprisoned for life. It is about a 5-hour sail from Port Napoleon. As the day grew dim, and the sky turned to gold, the fog started to drift in. After reading through some manuals, and pecking at the navigation equipment, I figured out how to turn on the radar. It never got thick enough to really need it, but it was probably a good idea to figure out how to use the radar. Then out of the foggy mist, we could see Marseille. The islands we were headed for blended in to the hillside, but as we got closer, we could see the old fortress. It looked more like a castle than a prison. And as the light dimmed, the city started to come alive one twinkle at a time. The castle walls washed in light and the chateau on the hill was lit from all sides. It looked more like the Disneyland castle. We waited for the fireworks that never came. I feel so thrilled that we actually arrived at where we hoped to navigate to, just relying on our waypoints to guide us. The island port is really beautiful. A nice harbor well protected with hills on both sides and a water break with a stoic lighthouse guarding the entrance. And now for our next challenge. Docking the boat by dropping the anchor and backing into the quay. Fortunately we found a space that had plenty of width. As smooth as butter, we slipped into the spot. I feel like today, things are going as I was really hoping would happen. Parking the boat without a problem, finding our way here, and being in this beautiful country. Yeah, this is the adventure I signed up for.
The next morning, we broke anchor and headed up the coast. There was no breeze, so we had to motor along. Not my favorite thing to do. I would much rather feel the breeze pushing us along. But the sun was enough to warm us to our bones. We were headed to Port De Cassis, on the way to St Tropez. Once again we trusted our calculations, waypoints and by typing in 23’ 12° • 8N 05°32’ • 1E we were guided right into port. And what a beautiful port. The harbor was small with little room to manuver. Not a good thing for a new owner of a rather wide boat. But somehow, I managed to deftly weave my way around to far end of the harbor. At first we couldn’t see any spaces available, then we spotted a short one on the end of one of the docks. It was very tight, and my adrenalin was rushing as I slowly backed into the space by operating both engines in a synchronized effort. We managed to not slam into any other boats and kept from backing into the dock. Not bad for a rookie. I am beginning to think I can handle this oversized baby.
The town is laid out around the harbor. It looks more like a movie set than a real town. Because it is such a small harbor, it has kept a lot of its French storybook charm. Little restaurants selling mostly fresh-caught seafood crowed in between shops selling expensive clothing. French flags flying from wrought iron balconies. Tiled roofs crowning three story apartments. And the French, as if they are extras in the movie, are meticulously dressed in the latest designer offerings. Old ladies dressed to the nines. Even our waiter is wearing Dolce shirt and Armani levis and a movie star smile. Lunch is not just a meal, it is an event, not to be hurried. The plates are beautifully served in that should I take a picture of it or eat it style. We walk down the narrow streets unable to pass all the flavors of a Glacier. It is hard to call it ice cream, because the flavors are so much more than American ice cream. And then there are the chocolate stores. The shop itself looks like a box all wrapped up in yellow paint with detailed gold trim. The stacks of cookies and boxes of chocolates are like the inside of a Faberge Egg. They make chocolate look like everything from olives to silvery sardines. And they do these miniature fruit baskets so real they almost look like you are eating something healthy. But the taste is nothing like healthy. Smooth rich, dark, the French know how to make chocolate. We never make it to our next port. I can’t get enough of this place.
Mistral is Back
Bidding adou to Cassis, we head back to Marseille. Great winds, we sail all the way into port. It is Saturday, and the entrance to the port is marked by a beautiful domed Romanesque church. The wind is quite strong, but we manage to get ito the large harbor and check in with the captaineria. He tells me he can only give me a berth overnight, but I have to leave by 9 the next morning. Kip’s plane doesn’t come in until the evening the next day so that is not going to work. So he directs me to the nautical club. Well no one is there during the weekend, so I just stay where I am, hoping that I am not taking someone’s spot. As the afternoon wears on, sailboats start streaming in like chicks to the mother hen, seeking shelter for the night. Monte and Benjamin go into town while I wait with fingers crossed that I don’t have to move the boat by myself. Everything works out and we are able to spend the night. Monte and Benjamin’s flight leaves at 6:30 the next morning, so we say our goodbuy’s that night. I am so appreciative of their help in getting things started. I could not have sailed by myself. Getting used to this boat, and dealing with the size, I really needed some help. Monte is a great friend to come and help me with my first week in France.
The next day we head to Toulon. Strong winds and big waves make the going rough. It becomes clear that maybe we should re-evaluate our plans. We decide to head into the safety of Cassis. I was so charmed by the little town clustered around the marina, that I was glad to be there once more. And then the Mistrals continued. Winds so fierce that we couldn’t safely leave the harbor. We ended up renting a car and driving back to Marseille to see a little more of the town. Finally the winds eased a bit, and we decided to make a run for Toulon. The winds were strong, but not the gale force winds that had been blistering for the last couple of days. Once we get to Toulon, the winds will be behind us, and we should have good sailing the rest of the week.
Toulon is a Navy town, housing the second largest port for the French navy, and the largest French navy port on the Meditearrian. The harbor is huge, and this is clearly a town of industry and commerce. The weather is definitely less windy, and the sun feels great. We are berth right on the walkway of all the restaurants and tourist attractions.
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