After the grandeur of the Pyrenees, the French coast becomes rather uninteresting with few natural harbours or anchorages. Our mission was therefore to eat up the miles and seek overnight shelter in suitable marinas.

Although this coast is renowned for high winds – in fact, I have never previously crossed the Gulf Du Lion without there being something of a blow – the pattern continued with little wind and what there was directly in our faces. We grabbed a couple of periods under sail but our passages were made predominantly  with the drone of the engine in the background. We stopped in St. Cyprien and Cap D’Agde which although a vast marina, was convenient with an alongside visitor berth outside the Capitainerie.

Pretty Port Gardian (Saintes Maries) was memorable for the thick mist on passage and the box berthing exercise which seems popular along this coast presumably because of the often strong Mistral winds.

A full range of the berthing options on offer in the Med was ticked off in Carry-le-Rouet with the necessity to pick up a buoy on the bow and moor stern to the dock. My super dooper ‘Hook and Moor’ contraption unfortunately failed to deploy which caused some consternation and reinforced the lazily ignored adage of ‘always have a back-up plan’. I have a hook spliced onto a line and arranged to mount onto a boat hook stowed in the anchor locker which I could have easily had ready in reserve and it will now be the preferred option in this scenario so, another lesson learned.

Carry le Rouet was selected as it is only 10 miles short of Marseille so we were able to enter the Vieux Port at midday and stand-off awaiting the allocation of our booked berth.

The Vieux Port would once have been the main commercial dock for the City but, as in so many old ports it is now an attractive marina in its central position surrounded by charming buildings and a charismatic network of lanes and alleys.

Contrary to the general perception of Marseille as being a crime ridden gangland focus of the drug trade, our experience was one of relaxed vibrant ambience with a good selection of bars and restaurants, even in the streets behind the tourist frontage.

Seeking out a chandler to replace our spent gas bottle I used the 50 cent passenger ferry across the Vieux Port to save the long walk around. This was impressive in that it was solar powered and presumably accounts for the cheap fare.

A day spent cleaning and visiting the laundry was finally rewarded by an excellent moules et frites at the nearest restaurant about 40 metres from our mooring. This was only the second meal ashore in the 11 days since Carl’s arrival, the first being a full English breakfast in the Fastnet bar in Barcelona before our departure. Carl had cooked every other meal and excellent they all were. He even prepared all the coffee and drinks and washed up all the crockery – what a star !!!!

Marseille had been selected to leave Hejira for a 2 week trip home as it is sheltered and the International Airport is only a tube and bus journey away. I will be returning with my wife and Dr. Stephen and his wife Mary for the passage to Baie des Anges just west of Nice where Hejira will reside for the Winter and the unfortunate jobs. This final leg is less than 120 miles and has some compelling destinations en-route so, with over a week to indulge and relaxed distances involved, we only need the weather to behave to sign off the adventure with positive domestic memories…

Carl writes:-

Perhaps the view from the galley wasn’t quite as impressive as that from Nick’s elevated position on deck but I thought the charming views of France’s southern shores perfectly complemented our final days together: calm, rolling and untroubled. Until that is, mooring-time approached… Even my final mastery of the ubiquitous clove-hitch didn’t prevent Nick’s blood-pressure from rising a notch or two, and all I can say wrt Carry le Roux is that the mere mention of “Captain Bouncy’ to the Capitainerie will undoubtedly elicit a rueful nod and the raising of fenders.

Notwithstanding this, all must have gone well enough as, on several occasions Nick was kind enough to reward me with further duties outside of the galley. Twice I was allowed to sponge out the diesel from the bilges before mopping-out with warm soapy water, and three times I was given complete responsibility of the hose when washing down both masts, deck & hull. Thankfully, taking into account his recent experience with the seams of his fuel tank, I was ultimately promoted to assume authority for the daily filling of Hejira’s water tanks. Cannes-based ‘Banjo’ can stand-down and expel a sigh of relief. Probably.

Seriously, as a complete novice, the whole trip was ace and as far as my galley efforts were concerned: always a pleasure, never a chore. Ta, Carl.

PS Many of you will already appreciate that Nick’s modern-jazz music taste can become a bit “too-tooty” on board but do persevere as 1982’s ‘Papa’s Got A Brand New Pigbag’ saw us walk-off with the marina’s legendary disco-dancing competition trophy, hands-down. If their early demise at this year’s World Cup wasn’t enough, those German long-faces three boats down said it all…

After Paula’s departure from Barcelona, I spent the rest of the day preparing for Carl Beetham’s arrival in the morning. I woke up in the night with a limerick in my head about the tank disaster, I guess it is all part of the process, coming to terms like a bereavement. So, with the morning, just like dreams, there was only a blank where there was once a limerick and I am struggling to re-create what I remembered as a fine effort.

Carl, being Carl who is a long term ‘acquaintance’ and squash opponent, took the bus from the Airport and then got lost so when I finally found him wandering around, it was later than expected but with only a short passage to Arenys, there was no harm done and with a pool in the marina, it enabled Carl to do his training ploughing up and down the pool while I waited for him in the bar.

It was in the evening in Arenys that Carls cooking mission and expertise were first displayed. It is probable that the fixation to cook every meal and wash up was founded on a realisation that he had little to offer on the sailing front and that he might even disgrace himself on passage.

From Arenys we suffered a long day under engine to Cala Satuna, cruising past Carl’s youthful haunts of Tossa (?) and Lloret de Mar.

I knew it was small and tight and we struggled to find a suitable place to anchor settling after 3 attempts on an open position clear of other craft in 22m depth. A LONG swim ashore for a beer was compensated by a lift back with the harbour chap who suggested we pick up a restaurant mooring buoy for 20 Euros for the night.

After two nights, one stricken with swell and the other serene, we made the passage to Cadaques which I had ‘bigged up’ as my favourite destination.

There was a Tramontana forecast so we sat out the 30 knot winds on a mooring buoy at 70 Euros a night for the privilege.

The fee did include the water taxi ashore and having secured a cancellation for a tour of Salvador Dali’s house, we actually thoroughly enjoyed Cadaques and it remains my favourite.

The passage north was still in the teeth of big winds, predictably on the nose preventing sailing. It was a bit lumpy… We arrived in St. Cyprien in France with Carl kissing the pontoon on arrival and disclosing that he had not been comfortable with the conditions. I made it ashore for the F1 Grand Prix coverage while he collected his thoughts and prepared another exceptional meal.

Carl writes :-

All is (not yet) lost. Apparently back in ol’ blighty there’s the latest in a line of films about disasters at sea, including ‘The Deep’, ‘All is Lost’ and ‘The Mercy’, that’s doing the rounds. Based on a true story, ‘Adrift’, concerns a young backpacker who falls for the older salty sea-dog who woos her with tall tales and full sails of derring-do before kicking the bucket and leaving the poor land-lubber to fend for herself in the middle of a pacific crossing.

And that’s when the penny dropped that my own veritable Captain Pugwash, never one to pass-up a business opportunity, had alighted upon a similar idea and had concocted a non-gender specific script that would have Hollywood fighting amongst themselves to secure the rights of such a tragic saltwater-seeped romcom. Rumour had it Harvey Weinstein had personally wanted to play the part of Mssr. Mines, though many thought him too typecast. Tom Cruise showed interest in my role but ultimately declined as he felt a little too tall to do it true justice. Back from his latest P&O soiree Rob Brydon has been given first refusal.

Anyway, back to the matter in hand and, though my sailing knowledge is often mentioned in the same sentence as the proverbial postage stamp, the game should have been up when, at the pre-confirmation interview, Nick was heard to refer to my inclusion as ‘working the passage’, followed by such questions as “Is there such a thing as too much garlic?” and “Are you averse to including two onions in every dish you cook?” When he nods-off tonight I’m hitting the dingy and heading for refugee-status on the Isle of Lampadusa.

All together now, ‘for ship-mates who do dishes, they should feel as soft as Nick’s hands, in mild-seas, on Hejira…’

Our overnight to Barcelona was very relaxed. With only 110 miles and plenty of time, we set off with a speed requirement so modest that the engine was run at about 1500 revs to arrive on the fuel dock around 9am. This is where our problems started……………

Filling the tanks with diesel, I took care not to spill any but filled both tanks to the top. Once we had moored on our berth in the new ‘One Ocean Port Vell’, we opened the Air Conditioning sea cocks and started the systems to combat the stifling heat. It was then that it became clear that, somehow, diesel had spilled inside the boat as the smell from the circulating air was appalling. Efforts to clear the diesel, which was evident in the bilge, consumed the days leading up to my wife and son’s arrival and was only partially successful. The bilge was flushed using toilet duck and left with cut up onions placed strategically all in an effort to overcome the smell. Paula and Ollie very kindly played down the pungency but I was acutely aware of the continuing presence. It was quite clear that this issue had to be addressed before any more plans are finalised for extended adventuring and the port side tank would have to be examined/removed and the source of the ingress established. Looking back, there has always been something of a diesel smell about the boat, ever since the tanks were replaced by Northshore and they managed to flood the bilge with diesel having failed to tighten the drain plug on the port side diesel tank.

We had been based with our previous yacht in Marina Port Vell for 12 years from 2000 until our eviction (so they could build the new up-market marina catering for monstrously large vessels) so, knowing the city well and not having visited for 6 years, it was fascinating to see the changes. The marina is now focussed on superyachts and is very swanky incorporating a gym and spa with very smart, polite and efficient staff. There are only a couple of docks for yachts of our size and these are all at the inner end, next to the bars and restaurants so, tranquil it is not but central it is! Barcelona is fundamentally the same, a great city and we have enjoyed long walks exploring our old haunts. More roads are pedestrianised and there are infinitely more bicycles around (many electric) with bike hire shops everywhere. The Fastnet bar is still going strong and I managed to meet up and have a beer with some of the old cronies who have mostly decamped to Puerto Olympico just along the beach.

I now have an awful tale of woe which has prompted this confessional. Returning from a long walk with Paula, I was aware that the port side water tank needed filling. The water pressure in the new marina is phenomenally high and it is difficult to keep the hose in the filler so, to prevent it lifting out and flying around like a demented snake, I wedged it in – big mistake !!! I first knew something was wrong when there was a spray of water and a rainbow at the transom as the overflow vented then a huge bang followed by another. The pressure in the tank from the hose was too much for the welds on the HDPE plastic tank and the tank was splitting apart at the seams – literally !

Pumping water from the bilge it is difficult to see any ‘up-side’ to this situation and, of course there really isn’t one but, it is important to stay positive and try. So, here goes – I was intending to ‘open up’ the port side saloon to address the diesel tank problems and the port side water tank is adjacent so it should be reasonably accessible. TekTanks who manufacture the HDPE tanks have all the records and templates and can make a replacement within a month. I have another 250 litres of water in the Starboard tank so it doesn’t stop me sailing. The replacement will have better connections as Northshore used a method not recommended by TechTanks – I’m beginning to struggle now – I will have the knowledge that all the pipe connections will be securely made and – I will have learned a very important, if expensive lesson !

I am now exhausted having ‘got that off my chest’ and not sure I have the energy to walk to the Fastnet to watch England in the semi-final of the World Cup – now that IS a lie.

I do hope Dave didn’t tell his friends and colleagues that he was going on a sailing holiday because that would have been a fabrication and the prospect for tomorrows overnight to Barcelona doesn’t look as though it will yield a rally in our sailing prospects. The upside is that we have plenty of time and can accommodate a slow passage only having the constraint of Dave’s departure for the airport for his flight home on Tuesday afternoon.

We departed early on our passage to Mallorca deciding to target the SW corner and anchor. Reading the comments on the CA app, it seemed that the buoys I was targeting which I remembered as being free, were now controlled by a marine conservation ministry and should be booked (and paid for) in advance and that anchoring in weed in the area incurred a fine. On our approach, several buoys were vacant so we picked one up having established on the web site that if you had not booked the day before, it was only possible to stay if there was availability and the roving warden sanctioned it and took the fee there and then. It being the Spain vs Russia football match (we could hear the whoops from ashore) we were doubtful the warden would be operating so we were a little dismayed to see him ‘doing his rounds’. Hoping to ‘blag it’ we donned the Spanish colours face paint gifted by a previous marina, feigned our support for Spain and were duly awarded a permit to stay for a princely 43 Euros.

Running the generator to operate both AC systems was welcome in the stifling heat and it also topped the batteries for our schlep across to Barcelona. The location was really rather picturesque with the sun setting behind Isla Dragonera, it was to be our only (pseudo) contact with Mallorca on this trip but our brief experiences of the Balearics reminded me that they are overloaded with yachts and very pricey.

Dave Wright writes for the last time:-

Just a final thought to round off our motor trip round the Med. I hope the following does justice to the trip and the rich history of literary gems laid down by former crew members:

Down the coast we dash,
Drinking and spending cash,
It’s the good life we’re seekin’
Fun, if you don’t weaken
And like sodomy, the whip and the lash!