Category: 2013

We had a pleasant overnight sail from Monaco to Corsica and even spotted a couple of whales about 25nm out of Monaco. One cruised past about 50m from the boat. I’d heard there were whales in the Med, but it’s always nice when you see one yourself. We were in about 2km of water at the time. For the first time ever, the Tour de France included Corsica. Stage 1 finished at the port we arrived in, Bastia, so we found ourselves a good spot to see the action. There’s lots of hoopla ahead of the riders with the sponsors’ “caravane” distributing loads of giveaways. One of the cafes had a sense of humour, serving EPO cocktails.

It appears not everyone on Corsica feels French. The locals speak an interesting dialect which sounds a bit like French with mangled Genoise Italian. The morning of stage 1 there was a massive sign painted on the wall at the entry to the old port, right near where the ferries from France turn into the main harbour: ” CORSICA IS NOT FRANCE. FRENCH GO HOME”. This was hastily being painted over. As one local told us, “there’s France, there’s Italy, and then there is Corsica!” The contrast between the South of France and Corsica is stark, an entirely different socio demographic. It’s easy to see why some there might not feel the least bit French.

From there we sailed into Italian waters, first to the island of Elba, where Napolean was exiled in 1814 during English occupation. We moored on the town quay at Portoferraio in the shadow of the Medici fortresses which protected the old town in Medieval times. The next port of call was Isola Giglio. Entering the harbour you pass the sad and sorry sight that is the Costa Concordia, an unfourtunate daily reminder for the locals of how slow the process of dealing with the aftermath has been, 18 months on. Having sailed along the same stretch of coast as she did it beggars believe that she could have hit the rocks that are just a hop, skip and a jump from the island, with 32 lives lost. Beside the wreck is a huge structure that houses the 420 men and women now working in shifts around the clock to salvage her. Eventually she will be towed off and cut up for scrap metal. The captain’s trial was meant to start this week, but has been delayed by a nationwide strike by laywers. What a crying shame! Giglio is a sleepy island with a small harbour town and hilltop village in what was once an old fortified town. You get the feeling time passes by fairly slowly here, with men sitting in the street weaving baskets from local flower stalks.

Next stop was the beautiful volcanic island of Ponza. When I think of Ponza I think of it with a capital P. “P” for pandamonium that is. The harbour is lined with 8 floating pontoons all separately operating as mini marinas. As we arrived in our dingy having anchored in the bay just outside, the operators were shooing away people trying to drop anchor inside the no anchoring zones near their berths. Meanwhile the water police were running around in their RIB with the blue light flashing trying to keep the way clear for the ferries maneovuring in and out of the town quay. The harbour was full, wall to wall boats everywhere you looked, and yet a small armada was still on its way in. Being in the dingy was a bit like being in a washing machine, what with all the wash being created by so many boats moving about. Welcome to Ponza on a Saturday evening. We stayed long enough to see the mayhem subside and enjoyed a few days there. The town of Ponza curls around the harbour with it’s quaint, cubed houses painted in pastel pinks, yellows and blues. Just around the point are some man-made grottoes built by the Romans to house fish ponds for their Moray eels, apparently a delicacy of the Roman era.

Both Ponza and Ventotene were popular retreats for emperors and wealthy Romans, but later became islands of exile for undesirables such as Caligula’s brothers, his sister Agrippina, the mother of Nero, and the adulterous Julia, exiled by her father, Caesar Augustus. They are lovely islands, but few beaches to speak of. The Italians will pull up on any old bit of rock to sunbake. Makes you appreciate our beaches downunder. The tiny harbour at Ventone, originally a Roman galley port, was carved out of volcanic rock by the Romans. Their old galley sheds excavated into the rock are still in use today. The local fishos can be seen cleaning their nets here daily.

The Italians love roaring around in motorboats at great speed. Most conduct themselves in a reasonably seaman-like manner, but every now and then there’s just a bit too much macho man. Our pilot book refers to them as “homo moronicus”. It all adds to the chaos that is sailing in Italy.

I seriously  need to reconsider my definition of what big is. When a yacht is wider than the length of ours (48′), then I think that’s big. And I thought the boats in St Tropez were big. In Antibe they have helicopters landing on them in the port. But apparently they can only still cater for a maximum of 12 guests to comply with the charter rules. I enquired about getting some laundry done and knew I had the wrong number when they wanted to quote me a price per fitted sheet & pillow slip and “would I need the crew uniforms washed separately?” Seriously, I am on another planet. Notwithstanding that, the local fishermen still sell their catch from the old town wharf. We loved Antibe. Lots of interesting, winding, flowery streets. Anything you ever need to get done to your yacht, you can get done here. And it’s amazing who you run into. Had a convivial dinner with David Beck after Fitzy came across him cruising past the super yachts.

Antibe was a good base from which to explore the surrounding area. Cannes is only half an hour away. Here they fence off their beaches, whereas in Antibe they just park the super-yachts behind them. We hired a car for a couple of days so we could go inland. Headed up to the village of Mougins, a quaint hill-top town full of galleries, where Picasso lived from the early sixties until his death. Stopped for lunch at Valbonne then headed to Grasse and visited the International Museum of Perfume and one of the perfumeries, where they take you through the whole production process. I resisted the temptation to have a personalised scent made for Fitzy.

But the highlight of this excursion was the Gorges Du Verdon, sometimes referred to as the Grand Canyon of Europe. From Castellane you can drive along one side, stay overnight in the gorgeous town of Moustiers Saint-Marie, then tootle off the next day along the southern bank. Awesome views. In the first gorge shot you’ll see some people near the top right of the image; they’re waiting for their friend climbing up from the bottom! We also managed to find a fabulous lunch spot along the way.

Apparently France has a drinking problem. They’ve gone from an average per capita guzzle of 160 litres per year down to around 30. But around these parts they are very much in the pink with the favourite tipple being a Provence rose. We’ve been sampling the local product and can report that it is very good. There’s even an Absinthe bar in Antibe, although I expect this is mainly for the tourists. Whilst in St Paul de Vence I came across a wine cave that’s been in use as a cellar since the 14 century. Could have picked up a 1986 Chateau Petrus for 2,200 euro!

We are now in Monaco. If guess if you’re selling real estate based on drone footage then it probably makes sense that the local real estate guy drives a Bentley. A two bedroom, 80 sqm apartment costs about 6.5 million euro here! At least you can get fed & watered for a reasonable price in this town. I’ve never seen so many Ferraris, Rollers, or other sleek, Italian designed sports cars in one place. Outside the Monte Carlo Casino and the Hotel de Paris it’s a crack up. It’s a bit like going to the zoo. Swarms of tourists lie in wait trying to catch a glimpse of someone famous. You can have a 7 euro coke at the Cafe de Paris. Near the fountain tourists pose like actresses having their moment in the sun. It’s all a bit of fun. The Oceanographic museum established by the current Prince’s grandfather is certainly worth a look. The building itself  is magnificent. There is an aquarium downstairs and upstairs houses many exhibits recounting the explorations of Prince Albert I.

Nice is just half an hour away on the train. I even managed to spy some Australian Murray River salt amongst some “exotic spices” at the market in Cours Saleya. We stopped off at Villefranche-sur-Mer along the way, yet another picturesque medieval hill town. It’s no wonder that artists such as Monet, Renoir, Picasso and Cocteau have all set their easels up in various places along this stretch. Artists today still try to capture their interpretation of the scene. We hired a car again in Monaco, visiting Eze and Roquebrune-Cap-Martin along the coast and Dolceaqua inland in Italy. The Ferrari was going to cost 2,640 euro a day, so we opted for the French Holden. Some of the streets in these towns are so narrow and winding they are almost cave-like and fascinating. But there are only so many quaint medieval hill towns one can visit! Backyards are non-existent in these towns so the locals create whatever gardens they can. In Monaco they get around the space problem with poo-parks for their dogs. And in the hot weather there’s always a fountain to cool pooches feet. I’ve added a few captions so click on the “i” at the top left of the image for more info. Au revoir!

Those crazy Catalonians just love having fun. Guess what they do just for kicks on a Sunday? They make human pyramids seven people high, then get a little kid to climb to the very top of the pile to give the four-fingered salute. Human towers, known as castells, are said to be as much a part of Catalan culture as the architecture of Antoni Gaudí and FC Barcelona. Apparently anyone passionate and committed can become a casteller. Profession, age, and gender are irrelevant. The clubs are said to be great equalizers. Fitzy & Alan W came across this spectacle the other day. 

 It was good to be back in Barcelona as we enjoyed our time here ten years ago. Once again we managed to get prime position at Real Club Nautico, just a skip & a hop to the club. We visited the obligatory sights like La Boqueria market, the Sagrada Familia, where you can peer into the workshop and see the craftsmen beavering away, and various other fabulous works of Gaudi. Toured around the Barri Gotic (old quarter) and played the tourist, jumping on and off the bus that tours all over the city and out to the hills. Also caught up with Robin A and some of her medico friends for a couple of lovely dinners.

 We are now in the land of the baguette, having picked our weather window for an uneventful crossing of the Golf di Lion. Our destination in France was an area known as Les Calanques, a stretch of coast near Cassis with steep-sided limestone coves, a bit like fjords. Cassis is a pretty town with a waterfront crammed with restaurants and a tiny pebble beach where you can rent your own beach bed. More tomfoolery here too – jousting sticks on water in fishing boats no less! Hope all is good with you and yours. Au revoir for now.

For the last couple of weeks we’ve been cruising the Spanish coast of the Med. We had intended to go straight from Gibraltar to the Balearics, but you know what they say about best laid plans. We stopped in Benalmadena to collect a boom bag we’d ordered in Gibraltar. The marina development there looks bit like Little Venice meets Toy Town on steroids, the whole place full of lobster-coloured British tourists.

Hadn’t planned on stopping at Cartagena either, but are very glad we did. It’s an interesting old Carthaginian, Punic, Roman town dating back to 200 BC with its main civic thoroughfare a lovely stoned-paved, pedestrianised area. Although there are some archeological sites dating back to the Carthaginian days, most are from the Roman times. Right in the middle of town are the remains of the Roman Teatro and a Roman Forum. We were somewhat puzzled by the loads and loads of vacant blocks with propped up building facades. Had they recently discovered yet another lot of Roman ruins? No, they apparently just got GFC’d. Council regs require developers to retain the old building facades, but they’ve since run out of money so nothing’s happening with them. At least they’ll keep the character of the city when they eventually get going again.

We then set off for Ibiza, but ended up in Alicante after having some sail issues to contend with. The weather window then allowed us to hop up the coast to the old town of Javea before we headed for Ibiza. I know this place is best known for its night life and foam parties, but the D’Alt Vila (old town) is really quite lovely to explore.

After 24 years we are now back in Palma de Mallorca, a place where we have fond memories of our earlier time in the Med. When we first arrived at the Real Club Nautico (Royal Yacht Club) we were moored in outer purgatory with all the charter boats, but after we advised them we’d be here for a week we managed to secure a member’s berth right in front of the clubhouse, about 20 paces from the bar. We’re just around the corner from the pool.

This place is still a yachtie’s paradise. It’s full of magnificent yachts that we never see back home. Five J boats are currently in town, along with assorted beautifully restored classic yachts of various sizes, Wally yachts, and so many Swans that I’ve lost count. The sailmaker here doesn’t have a van, he has a truck with a small crane on the back of it. How else do get a mainsail on a super yacht? If there’s a recession going on in Europe then nobody’s told the yachting fraternity in Palma.

Some of these yachts are in a secure marina/yard area, but we couldn’t help ourselves, we just had to go and have a look. So we told the man on the gate that we needed to go to the “Efectos Navales” (chandlery) to get some bits for our yacht – which was true. We tried not to walk around with our tongues hanging out too much.

Palma has a wonderful blend of Moorish inspired architecture, interesting old cobbled laneways and tree-lined boulevards and we’ve very much enjoyed strolling round and taking in the sights. The Castell de Bellver up on the hill overlooking Palma is in amazingly good nick for a 14^th century castle. We also took a day trip up to the west coast town of Soller on the old Victorian railway, then on an old tram out to Puerto de Soller. A rather lovely way to spend a day.