En France 30

 

The stone towers, sun seared and weather worn, stand guard implacably.

Two sentries : La Chaine the stocky foot soldier, built for battle . Saint Nicolas the tall knight, regal of bearing. 'Halt, who goes there? Friend or foe?' Together they have challenged approaching mariners, for seven hundred years.

Stargazer is 'friend.' 

As she approaches, and the channel curves to port, the stalwart sentries stand aside. Revealing a glimpse of the mediaeval treasures, which they guard within.

Cool stone, topped with furnace fired terracotta. Beneath the bleached blue skies of the Charante.

Stargazer set sail, from Les Sables d'Olonne, at dawn. Timing her departure to take maximum advantage of the north easterly night breeze. A fifteen knot fair wind.

We romp south, over gently ruffled waters, as the sun rises.

Shaving the Pointe des Baileines, on the tip of Ile de Re, as fine as we dare.

Coming up on the wind, to skim its low sandy shores. Sunlight dancing across the opaline waters.

Skirting the top hat light tower of Chanchardon, to clear the hard granite reefs. Which lurk beyond those softly beguiling beaches.

By midday, at the sun's zenith, a land breeze seeks ascendancy over the night breeze. Stargazer ghosts south. Barely making way. But content, on this occasion, to do so.

The tide is making. Carrying us past the sweeping arc of the Ile de Re bridge and the jutting Plateau de Chauveau lighthouse.

The La Rochelle approaches are shoal and these are spring tides. Stargazer requires a couple of hours of flood, to enter.

There is a metre beneath the keel, as Stargazer glides past the Lantern Tower. A sixteenth century, wood fired, spired lighthouse. 

At its feet, Hobie cats sniff the building sea breeze and prepare to put to sea.

A dash of lush green is added, to the stark beauty of the heat washed colours downstream.

Stargazer is nearing the entrance to La Rochelle's Vieux Port.

We secure in an available space, jealously guarded by a friend of its rightful owner. Only placated when I explain that we are just there for an hour; whilst we wait for the bridge, into the Bassin a Flot, to open.

A figure, which I now know to be that of Eric (the harbour master), gives me a thumbs up, from the flag adorned window of the Port Office. Set amid the sculpted trees of the quayside. 

An hour later, the lock gate opens and the footbridge swings aside. The lock keeper (white shirt and sunglasses) stands, hand in pocket, watching as Stargazer approaches. Withdrawing it to wave, and call 'Welcome to La Rochelle,' as we pass.

Eric beckons Stargazer into the cool leafy shade, of our berth in the heart of this vibrant city. Alive with music, colour, history and entertainment. Filled with excitement.