En France 41

 

The presence, of the Landes Missile Range, adds a certain piquancy, to the planning process for Stargazer's next passage. Firing information is, seemingly, only available verbally. By vhf or telephone. Linguistic slip ups, during the conversation, to be avoided at all costs!

The range (white box)  lies on the rhumb line, between the mouth of the Gironde and Stargazer's three most probable ports of arrival, on the north coast of Spain: Bilbao, Laredo or Santander. Chosen for offering all weather access whilst lying within a manageable distance.

Thus far, in 2022 (both on our Shakedown and En France cruises) we have hopped our way gently down the coast. Stargazer's longest passage that between Northney and Cherbourg. During which she averaged just over six knots, to cover the eighty nautical miles in thirteen hours.

 South of here, the French ports run out. The remainder being shoal, with constrained entrances.

Stargazer will therefore need to make a one hundred and eighty nautical mile passage, to reach Spain. That is thirty six hours at five knots, which is the speed I generally plan against. Or thirty at Stargazer's long term average speed, of five point seven knots. The distance is similar to that we sailed, from Scilly to Ireland, during the 2013 Into the Mystic Cruise. 

As well as the usual considerations of wind and tide, on this occasion, we must also factor in La Houle (particularly for our exit from the Gironde) and, of course, the Landes Range live firing schedule.

This is now the height of the northern European cruising season.

 Martyn and Hilly are, once more, anchored in Scilly. Aboard Styria, their trusty Hallberg-Rassy Rasumus Ketch. 

Recipe, the deceptively long legged, Dutch Norfolk Smuggler, which Stargazer cruised the Baie de la Seine with in 2020, has sailed north. She is currently in Soreide, Norway (just south of Bergen).

Whilst Daryl and Shirley, aboard the Bavaria 42 Dream Catcher, have arrived in A Coruna. At the feet of the iconic Tower of Hercules.

Picture Credits

Missile Firing courtesy of Defense News (sic)

Tower of Hercules courtesy of  Oleg

Maps courtesy of Google

En France 40

 

La Plage de la Chambrette translates literally as 'the Bedroom Beach.' Admirably summing up the sleepy atmosphere, which pervades its silver sands. Studded with widely spaced sun umbrellas.

It, and the adjacent Port Medoc marina, are connected to Le-Verdon-Sur-Mer by a mile long board walk. Comfortably springy underfoot (I have a bruised right heel at the moment) it winds through a dunescape of  marram grass and pine scrub. Agreeably.

Le-Verdon-Sur-Mer is unassumingly suburban. A town seemingly in the midst of a decades long transition, from working town to leisure town. The story is written in the street names: Rue de l'Ancien Hotel de Ville leads, past shuttered restaurants, and a bakers shop converted into a hair salon, to the eponymous empty Town Hall. Weeds sprouting in front of its once grand double doors. A faded sign, advertising Oysters from the Old Port, hinting at a commercial past.

The well kempt church, in the centre of town, speaks though of current civic pride

Newer, neater houses, two or more cars on their gated drives, line the Avenue de la Plage. Which leads down to the boardwalk. Hinting, along with those restaurants not yet open for the season, that the new money arrives in the pockets of visitors and second home owners. During the 'Paris Shutdown,' of July and August.

En France 39

 

'Hooray and up she rises.' 

Stargazer, with the Elan 340 Bout au Vent (Head to Wind) still hot on her heels, after a full day's sailing, surfs into the Gironde.

'Down, down, deeper and down,' (to mix song lyrics) we both plunge. As the Biscay swell finds bottom and recoils. Rearing skyward and steepening.

To port, the seas break heavily over the Banc de Coubre.

Their scend spilling over into the channel itself. Two ships, bound upriver for Bordeaux, pass. Then, in unison, Stargazer and Bout gybe, for the calmer (or at least not breaking) waters in the centre of the shipping channel.

In the dawn twilight, a small convoy of boats beat out around the tip of Oleron. Impelled by the same logic of wind and tide.

Crews making directly for the westerly Spanish ports (Gijon or A Coruna) motor sailing, unable to lay their course directly. And unwilling to add further distance, to their passage, by tacking.

Stargazer tucks a single reef into the main and tacks out, over la houle, in seventeen knots apparent. Riding the La Rochelle ebb, around the tip of the peninsula and on south.

The skies settle on their mood for the day. Grumpy grey quickly exchanged for clear blue. The breeze down to twelve knots true.

Stargazer is reaching now :  reefs out, the tide under her. Making seven knots over the ground.

Swooping over the swell.

Ten miles in, the waters of the Gironde are beginning to flatten, to mere chop. Subdued by the sandbanks and shoreline.

Belem, last of the great nineteenth century French windjammers, steams seaward.

Closely followed by the Dutchman Thalassa. The two tallships returning from a weekend of good living, at the Bordeaux Wine Festival.

The waters sparkle benignly now, across the open expanse of the estuary.

On the south bank, marked by green trees and red roofs, amid the dunes, lies the harbour of Le Verdon-Sur-Mer.

En France 38

 

Off the craggy tip, of Oleron, a deep laden taker reels toward Le Palais, across the Biscay swell : La houle.

Safe inside the surf line, which marks the reefs, a sailor lies snug at anchor. Local knowledge and (I suspect) a lifting keel required!

Here the granite underpinnings of the peninsula are laid bare, by the Atlantic waves. Creating a strange inter-tidal landscape. 

The habitat of the Sunday 'peche a pied' devotee.

Who scours the rock pools.

And digs deep, amongst the sediment.

The sea is glassy. The weather in a hesitant mood. Towering black clouds mass, momentarily, in a blue sky, before scurrying away apologetically. 

Leaving the sun to blaze down upon the beach at St Denis. 

Aboard Stargazer, the alarm is set for tomorrow’s dawn wind check.

En France 37

 

Today's is a fair breeze for windsurfers. The low lying Ile d'Oleron allowing a twenty five knot south westerly, over its shoulder, to power their play. Whilst keeping the waters, off the beach, silky smooth.

Stargazer's next port of call will be on the river Gironde. Its entrance notorious, in any strength of westerly breeze. Stargazer must wait for a day with a breeze sufficient to carry her there ; but insufficient to stir up its overfalls.

A narrow lane, close set with houses, winds up to the village of St Denis. It is amiably shared by cars, pedestrians and cyclists. Where width permits, the walkers have their own white lined carriageway.

The road, and others, open onto a leafy square. Vallois the bakers at its heart. A free form queue, of baguette seekers, snaking out of its doors, across the street. Along with the smell of freshly baked bread.

A jocular voice, lost in the shadows of the bar next door, calls out a to a passing cyclist.

Hollyhocks scale sun drenched walls. . . . .

. . . .and stand tall in the shade of courtyards. 

Everywhere straining colourfully skyward.

Immaculately groomed retirement, or second, homes. . . .

. . . . .rub shoulders with unreconstructed originals. 

Aboard Stargazer, a zero three thirty alarm is set. To check if the breeze is fair for a dawn departure.

En France 36

 

The contrast could not be more complete. . . . . 

. . . . .with the vivacious high jinks of La Rochelle.

A palpable peace surrounds the sandy harbour of St Denis.

Where beach cats doze in the dunes.

This morning, Stargazer sailed from La Rochelle. As soon as the lock gate opened, to admit the rising tide.

Greeted by eight knots true. Fourteen knots apparent, as she beat along the beaches of the Ile de Re.

Tacking out across the bay. Where an ageing naval supply ship lies at anchor.

And merchantmen manoeuvre in and out of the docks, at Le Palais.

To make her landfall on the shores of the Ile d'Oleron.

With enough rise of tide left, to slip over the cill, into the harbour at St Denis. Beneath the watchful eye of a cormorant.