France by Sea and by Land
After 6 months nestled at Barcelona's Marina Port Vell, among vessels from as far away as Australia and New Zealand, TEKA III went "on the hard" for some freshening up. Over a month later, with a newly painted bottom, new bow profile (no more bulbous bow), and a weather window, she felt the sea under her hull once again. The date--May 11, 2002-- happened to be the first anniversary of the day we left Jacksonville, Florida for Bermuda in 2001. Two anchorages further north left us poised to cross the infamous Golfe du Lion, a bit of water that can get rather nasty and stay that way for days. Seems the weather coming in from the Atlantic runs smack into the Pyrenees mountains and get funneled down into the Mediterranean and on through that piece of water. Weather windows give cruisers a certain amount of time to scoot across or port hop around; the latter taking longer.
We elected to go straight across to Marseille, and had an uneventful trip. In fact, although the "arms" (flopper stopper poles) are always extended out, making us look like a fishing vessel, the flopper stoppers were not deployed. Some adverse current at first slowed us down, but once released from its grip, we did about 8 knots on the average. We think removing the bulbous bow also made a difference in speed. We know for a fact the boat doesn't pound now going through "OTN" (on the nose) waves.
Just one overnight at an island just west of Marseille gave us a rest as the trip across
had taken 13 hours to cover the 109 nautical miles. As we left the anchorage we cruised by the
famous Chateau d'If, a fortress built on an island and associated with "The Count of Monte
Cristo." On to Toulon where we tied up at the marina there for 6 days, 3 of which we toured
Provence in search of fabulous French food of the region.
Generally headed north and west of Toulon to the Montagne du Luberon (Luberon Mountains), we stayed away from cities and enjoyed the two lane roads of the French countryside. Lots of French farmhouses, vineyards, hilltop villages, and cobblestone streets.
Got lost a few times, but never too lost, and we psychologically refer to that as "having an
adventure." About lunchtime we entered a quaint place called Cucuron and stopped to walk
around, sniffing out something good to eat. La Petite Maison menu looked scrumptious, but
expensive. The waiters inside wore black suits and ties, confirming the menu prices. We
walked around the small village before returning and taking the plunge. We never said a word
as we approached the door. Yet, at the door a very tall young man greeted us with, "Good
afternoon." He knew we weren't local. (Perhaps the tennis shoes gave us away.) All the
garden spaces had been taken or were reserved, so he seated us at a 17th century table inside.
Never mind. We had a culinary experience we cannot stop talking about.
For those of you versed in the language, here's what we had presented to us in a most elegant manner, explained in English after they announced the individual dish in glorious French. Mise en bouche; Risotto d'epeautre de Sault aux premieres asperges vertes de la Vallee de la Durance; Agneau de lait des Pre-Alpes confit au thym frais; Legumes engros morceaux confits; Fromages affinees par notre fromager, accompagnes d'une salade de saison melangee a l'huile d'olive primeur; Tarte aux premieres gariguettes, sorbet gariguette-basilic; and Mignardises. A very special meal.
That night we stopped at Bonnieux and watched the sun set across the valley from our
small hotel room terrace. A very pleasant experience, even though it had started to lightly rain.
It rained more during the early morning, but we struck off anyway. On to Menerbes, home of
Year in Provence author, where we bought coffee du lait and a bakery treat to get us
going. We drove north from there to Murs, then down to Roussillon for a town walk around,
then on to have a picnic lunch south of Apt; re-cross the Durance River and on to Aups for the
night. Asked around about another gourmet place to dine; alas, Saturday night and no
reservations left us looking for plan B. The Restaurant des Gourmets in Aups served us well.
For our last day of land touring we headed north again, this time to the Grand Canyon du Verdon, and a several hour drive along the rim of the largest canyon in Europe. It slices through the limestone plateau midway between Avignon and Nice. The unusually high flourine content of the water gives the river a rich green color. We shared the two lane road with tour buses, other tourists (on a Sunday drive), motorcycles and lots of bicycles. Boy did those people have big hearts and thighs! Our only disappointment was not many designated pull offs to gawk. Seemed we had to spot a wide spot at a bend in the winding road and make a temporary spot to get out and take a quick photo. Took more back roads on way back to Toulon, stopping at Chartreus de la Verne, a monastery built in 12th century and still lived in by 15 Carthusian nuns (they aren't from the 12th century). We looked forward to buying some of the nuns' homemade "pain a la farina de chataignes" (chestnut flour bread). The monastery was closed that day. Everyone who drove the dusty road up just took advantage of a nice walk with peek a boo scenes of the Mediterranean to the south.
Arrived back in Toulon about 6 p.m. Rented the car from 9 a.m. Friday until 9 a.m. Monday for 125 Euros ($110), unlimited mileage. We drove 340 miles, ate some wonderful food, practiced reading French (many people spoke English, so we weren't challenged there), and now have to re-read that famous book.
From Toulon we took TEKA III out to the Porquerolles Island. Anchored there for three nights, until the wind shift sent us on to the next port--St Tropez. Seas were kicking up on our trip there, so we had both flopper stoppers in the water to hold us steady. At one point a loud noise on the starboard side grabbed our attention. A quick assessment--the shackle at the extreme end of the arm (25' out from the boat), which connected the flopper stopper lines to the arm, had broken. When that happened, all the attending lines and flopper stopper dropped way under water. We put the engine in neutral and scrambled to gather in all the rope before any got under the boat and fouled the prop. Then while tossing about in 7' beam seas (the other flopper stopper worked hard to control the rocking on its side of the boat), we used two block and tackle systems to retrieve that 50 lb flopper stopper. Didn't want to drag it along beneath the boat, or risk losing it, or have it bang against the boat, so had to get the potential menace back on board. Boy did the adrenaline flow. As a team we got everything under control and limped into St Tropez Bay. Took dinghy down and checked the problem, assessed damage, and completed repairs before sunset.
Then the fun started. Weather did change. Winds predicted from north-northwest and at Force 8 by midnight. Force 8 is gale winds, 35 to 40 knots. However the cruising guidebook promised if we moved to the opposite side of where we were, still in that bay, we would be o.k. Rubbish! Midnight came and we bolted out of bed. The rigging was singing and the boat bouncing up and down with OTN waves. And wind only 20 knots. We had to pull anchor and relocate before wind got up to 40. A quick check of the chart showed us about 2.5 miles across to the further side of the big bay we could possibly be out of harm's way. We bounced along listening to the wind creep up to 40 knots during that 1 hour trip to go 2 ½ miles. Took us til 2 a.m. to reanchor and resettle our psyches. But sleep did come after a while. We never did know what happened to the other boats anchored near us before the gale hit. They didn't follow us and as far as we could tell did not remain in the bad anchorage for the rest of the night.
Next morning bright and clear. Did some boat chores, then moved back across the bay to our most recent anchorage, a very pretty place. Took the dinghy to St Tropez town and gawked at the yachts in the harbor and the fashionably dressed folks strolling through town. The following morning we finished painting the "arms" and moved location to Cannes.
The Isles de Lerins stand just across from the city of Cannes, home to the International Film Festival just finishing up. We anchored at St. Marguerite just below the fort/prison where the man with the iron mask spent many a day. Went to visit Fort Royal while there, only to find the Museum with the mask inside closed Mondays. Now I will never know if it had a silk or velvet lining, or even who it was. Much speculation here, including was it a he or a she?
Our first evening there we watched a passagemaker type boat with a British flag anchor nearby. The man lowered his dinghy, climbed in and started the motor, then came over to see us. He said he wanted to meet those famous people from Passagemaker magazine. We enjoyed swapping stories as both boats are over 20 years old. He is busy modifying his to be a liveaboard and cruise wherever. He happened to be the President of Jacques Savoye (Automobiles de sport et de luxe depuis 1934--his grandfather started the company) and lived in Paris. His accent just flowed and I could have listened to him speak for a long time--in French or English.
The next morning we watched as the snow covered Alps appeared with the sunrise--magnificent. Clouds had covered them the other two days and we were unaware of their presence until they showed up.
Had another culinary adventure at L'Oasis Restaurant just outside Cannes, recommended by the Frenchman, before we pulled up anchor and set our sights on the last anchorage along the French Riviera--Ville Franche. It's a large harbor ringed by mountains and full of everything from cruise ships to small sailing vessels. We met up with the sailing vessel, "Dutch Touch." He gives the weather report for the Mediterranean Cruisers' Radio Net each morning.
After two nights there, Italy called. Stay tuned.