Ad Lib 111

 

An authortitative rap, upon Stargazer's cabin trunk, signals the arrival of three naval officers. One in camoflage fatigues and beret. The others more nautically uniformed, in blue. Here to examine Stargazer's (rather than her skipper's) documentation.

Their opening question is "have you visited Spain?" Prompting me to believe that they have consulted the MarineTraffic AIS tracking site. On which Stargazer's profile picture (above) shows her moored off Castro Urdiales. "Not this year." I reply

"Do you come from Brittany?" is the follow up. There is a large contingent, of British flagged boats, based year round on the river Vilaine. Which is only ten miles away. Since Brexit, these boats will owe French TVA (VAT) unless they have proof that they leave Schengen waters every eighteen months.

They may also be subject to the, controversial and recently made more stringent, French boat tax. If their owners have applied for a French Residence. As, reputedly, many were encouraged to do, by La Roche Bernard Capitainerie. "No. I sail over from England each year."

"What was your route?" We chat aimiably, and in depth, about Stargazer's ports of call. A question here. A nod and an anecdote there. Until (I suspect) the officers are satisfied that Stargazer is bona fide and has indeed visited the harbours which her skipper claims.

"You have arrived for the party?" I look blank. But am soon enlightened. It seems that Piriac is to celebrate its sardine port roots by throwing a communal fish supper. With sea shanty accompaniment. All invited. Smiling, the naval trio bid Stargazer and her skipper "bon soiree." 

Ad Lib 110

 

Debate ensues. Amid the cool shadows, cream canvas, wooden deadeyes and varnished brightwork of Piriac's 'classics row.'

Two crew, raised in the true traditions of a Republic, means two skippers aboard.

A democratic decision is soon reached. The yankee is duly lowered, tamed and bagged.

Silence falls. Whilst ancient mariners warm their greenheart bones in the afternoon sun.

Ad Lib 109

 

Stargazer takes the broad main channel out of Pornichet's lagoon. Twelve knots of breeze on her quarter.

Her skipper able to amble about her deck. Stowing lines and fenders. Between taking swigs from a coffee mug wedged, betwixt outhaul tail and hatch runner, by the companionway. The autopilot holding a steady course for Pointe de Penchateau.

To seaward, a similar sized boat tracks us on a parallel course. A hooded figure at the helm, although the morning is polo-shirt-and-shorts warm. Speaking of an early start. Perhaps out Pornic or L'Herbaudiere.

Both of us bound west in these gold tinged hours. Maintaining our distance, from the low cliffs, out of respect for their outcrops. Which lurk beneath the innocent indigo waters. Often witnessed by a pot buoy (Three quarters right. Orange dot. At cliff foot)

Stargazer finds just enough breeze to make her full five-and-a-bit knot cruising speed. Where our chrome companion cannot. By the time we reach Croisic Corner (Pointe du Croisic, officially) she is lost astern.

Pair trawlers waltz in unison to our south. Before an appreciative audience of wind turbines. Which wave their arms in applause.

Stargazer hardens her sheets and beats north. Unexpectedly finding an eddy of fair tide. Giving us seven knots over the ground. And causing her skipper to hurriedly check that we shall have sufficient water on the cill.

A flurry of exiting boats confirms adequate clearance. As well as suggesting vacant berths. Within, the Capitainerie dory crews are taking a mid morning break. After the exertions of managing the exodus.

The thirty-footer berths have the wind blowing into them. Which makes it more difficult to stop and secure the boat. Cheekily, I ask for one of the forty-footer berths. Which are facing into the wind. (Harbour Masters will generally put boats on the smallest possible berth. In the hope of higher fees from a long boat arriving to fill the larger ones)

"Abracadabra!" Stargazer's wish is granted. We are slotted alongside a Beneteau Oceanis. Which is so broad of beam that only a slim, Stargazer sized, vessel can be accommodated alongside.

Our weekend in Piriac, that most rustic and relaxed of Breton seaside villages, has begun.

Ad Lib 108

 

Steadily, through the day, the high winds have moderated. By afternoon, in the lee of Pornichet's 'condo-cliffs,' beach cats, crewed by school-children, are out at play

Tomorrow, Stargazer hopes to put to sea once more.

Meanwhile, her skipper has been on a pontoon prowl. Having noticed a Beneteau First 30. The smaller of the latest two, Seascape built, Sam Manuard, First designs. (See Ad Lib 102)

My curiosity initially piqued by the juxtaposition of a racy carbon bowsprit and aft-stepped mast with the cruising-comforts of a spray-hood plus stack-pack.

Nearby, is a craft focussed solely on speed. A foiling Classe Mini 6.50. Scow bowed of course. Her water-wings retractable, in the interests of berthing practicality. Her nearest nod to luxury.

On the hammerhead, lies an Ocean Fifty trimaran. Capable of sustained thirty knot speeds with forty knot peaks. Prone to inversion unless handled with skill and respect. The crew cuddy a necessity at sea, given the velocities. (Think, driving at a dual carriageway pace, through water.)

Although, an even wilder machine lurks across the fairway. Making no concession to crew protection whatever. Whilst sporting a similar sized carbon rig.

Ad Lib 107

  

A four mile sickle-moon of sand, surveilled by all-seeing lifeguards (in season), forms the northern shore of Pornichet's lagoon.

It is no surf-spot. The Biscay swell is turned back by the strict doorman of a reef. To leave a protected lido, for swimming and small craft escapades.

The Breton beach is soft between the toes. Unlike the sharp white shell sand of the Vendee. Enticing to the eye but abrasive to the skin.

White 'cliffs' of low rise 'condos' line the shore. With legacy beach-houses, remnants of less egalitarian times, left squeezed between their rectilinear ranks.

Pornichet's original harbour dries.

The all tide marina, in which Stargazer lies, is a man made atoll. Built from giant granite boulders.

Connected to the shore by a bridge.

Ad Lib 106

 

By reputation, Hobie beach cats enjoy the dubious distinction of being capable of capsize in all directions. Forwards, backwards, diagonally, to leeward and to windward. Due to their high rocker (banana shaped) hulls.

Today's conditions offer a perfect opportunity to establish if this is fact or folklore. Within the shelter of Pornichet's reef-ringed lagoon.

The sudden appearance of an anchored ski-boat, combined with a powerful gust, provide all the ingredients required to trial the classic leeward capsize.

Which is successfully executed. Providing a firm basis from which to build up to the more exotic variants.

Ad Lib 105

It was no Saturday evening club race, which Stargazer stumbled into last night. (See Ad Lib 104.)

But a J-Cup match racing championship. Held in  J-80's. Built, by J-Composites, in the home of the Vendée Globe, Les Sables d'Olonne.

Which explains why the start line was laid across the marina entrance: The better for shoreside spectators to enjoy the weekend-long spectacle.

Which is fast and furious. As the final elimination rounds are fought out through Sunday.

In a blistering twenty five knots, and more, of breeze.

Much to the delight of the J-Crews and their supporters.

RIB riding on the water referees ensure that, whilst the battle may be ferocious, it is scrupulously fair.

With umpires stationed strategically at the turning marks. 

And straining to keep pace, with the flying J’s, on the full throttle downwind sectors.