Gale Dodging in the Med Spain to Nice 10th June 2003
I am writing this on Intrepid in the Old Harbour in Nice, which is just east
of the main Promenade des Anglais where the large hotels are. The old port is
small, quaint and jam packed with yachts, and we were lucky to get in.
Travelling by boat may not be as fast as car or plane, but it does have the
advantage that many ancient towns and cities are centred around their port, so
our ‘home’is often right in the middle of town. It’s a bit like being able to
put a caravan in the middle of Trafalgar Square in London for example. Alicante,
Barcelona, Marseilles, St Tropez, Nice are all examples.
Sailing around the coast of Spain and France in April/May is stimulating - the
resorts look freshly scrubbed and many of the establishments have new owners who
are keen – in September it all looked more jaded. But there are some really
nasty gales around, and the weather forecasts don’t always spot them in advance,
(and the French forecasters often seem to be on strike) so we have to rely on
our own wits at times, and sort out often conflicting forecasts; and we have to
work hard to get into marinas that are often jam packed (or at least say they
are until we push a bit), so we have to try to work out alternatives. The
distances we are sailing are not great. Aguadulce in Spain (where we spent the
winter, near Almeria) is about 150 miles East of Malaga, and 200 miles east of
Gibraltar. Cordoba (capital of the moorish empire in Spain with its huge
mezquita cathedral built in the middle of a gigantic 13th century mosque),
Granada (a semi-independent moorish caliphate with superb inlaid moorish palace
), and Seville (100 miles up the Guadalviquivir river north of Cadiz on the
Atlantic coast, and centre of the Spanish gold trade for 100 years) are all
about 100 miles inland north of Malaga and Gibraltar, so we went by car –
absolutely fantastic places to visit . ( I have a longer account if you are
interested; also about Valencia which we visited for a week for its 7 day Fallas/fireworks/Processions/statues/bonfires
festival which is held in mid March every year).
We set off from from Aguadulce in April via Cartagena. It’s a large Spanish
naval base where we saw the really impressive Easter Holy week parades with
processions of Klu Klux Klan style hooded penitents, and ‘brotherhoods’ of 100
or so people staggering under tonne weight holy statues. Then to Alicante which
has a delightful yacht club next to the city centre, and a great promenade to
stroll along overlooked by a beautiful castle, and a hideous high rise hotel
which is not only awful itself but also tragically blocks the view of the
castle! Sometimes planners are needed! We find about 100 miles/week is a good
rate to see something of the country we pass through. From Alicante we sailed
via Javea direct to Barcelona, about 230 miles also NE which takes about 36
hours, so we had to share night watches and dodge fishing boats without lights.
We had never been to Barcelona, and were hugely impressed. We stayed at the
marina in the old port right in the centre of the city, and visited 10 museums
including the Picasso museum with 3000 works (Picasso’s father was Professor of
Art at Barcelona while Picasso was 10-20 years old, and Picasso later donated
much of his work from this period to the museum). Fascinating to see what a
painting by 10 year old Picasso looked like. Also a staggering Salvador Dali
exhibition (he lived most of his life 80 miles north weast of Barcelona near
where we later anchored). We spent 5 days in Barcelona and saw lots of buildings
by the architect Gaudie, which were created around 1900. His designs make even
large imposing buildings look like fairy tale houses. Apparently Gaudie gained
most of his inspiration from trees, so his buildings have no straight lines. His
major work, the cathedral of the holy family looks a bit like Disneyworld, was
started in 1890 and is now a very modern looking building site, still years away
from being completed, so they have to restore the early part as they are
completing the last part.
We had arranged to pick up Phil Cheeseman at Marseilles so sailed there from
Barcelona direct overnight, (about 180 miles) arriving just before a strong
Mistral (30 knot north-easterly winds). Marseilles is also centred around its
old port, and we were guided in by the huge golden statue on the church at the
top of the hill that Marseillaises say protects them. They were on strike and
demonstrating about pensions while we were there, although it looked like a big
street party, with the communist and far right Le Pen group in the same march.
We ate some good Bouillabaise, and better Moules, and generallyu enjoyed our
enforced stay as the wind howled.
As the Mistral finally lost its violence, we sailed east via les Calanques which
are bewitching tiny narrow inlets 100’s of metres long into huge high limestone
cliffs. We walked into Cassis – a beautiful small port, then on to Toulon (large
naval base inlcuding the Charles de Gaulle aircraft carrier looking a bit tatty
I have to say), and then a great sail in 30 knot winds to St Tropez, still a
very picturesque fishing port and well worth enduring the mistral that blew us
in St Tropez faces north into a large bay, which is why it was not developed
earlier. Lots of early impressionist painters came here, and the small museum in
an old church is a gem with works by just about everyone.
As the mistral subsided, we continued east to Cannes where we couldn’t get into
the harbour (full), so anchored in the bay along with huge celebrity yachts 10
times our size that couldn’t get in because they were too big (we may have
problems but not usually that one). The Cannes film festival was on, which (in
case you didn’t know) is a 10 day trade jamboree for films which can only be
shown if this is their premier in France. I am afraid we would not recognise a
star or celebrity if one jumped out at us, and the main films and celebrities
seemed to be French which did not make it any easier. But we joined the crowds,
and watched the adventurous try to get hold of gold dust tickets to premiers by
asking the near celebs who were braving the paperazzi to walk the red carpet to
the opening – usually with success.
Phil Cheeseman by chance bumped into Elizabeth, the film correspondant for a
French radio station who is a neighbour (don’t ask), so we had a highly
instructive lunch getting the inside information on the festival. It appears
that outside France, producers (who raise the money to finance films) generally
find directors, whereas in France, directors often look for producers to finance
a concept they have created. And many of the films shown at Cannes are looking
for distributors to put on the movies they have already made. It sounds like a
recipe for anxiety and stress, and certainly the photos of the stars we saw were
smiling but looked happy (the previous day’s photos are posted outside on boards
by the hundred).
The main quay at Cannes is stuffed with motor yachts about 30 metres long, 10
metres wide and 10 metres high, looking rather like white shiny shoe boxes,
usually with a sign saying ‘visitors by appointment only please’. We come in by
our dinghy to this quay, and came ashore at the same moment that a nameless
celeb landed as well, so we shared the cameras for a while.
We noticed very few Americans (post Iraq?), for example only one floating shoe
box/gin palace out of the 40 or so in the harbour had an American flag.
Elizabeth claimed that the Americans had in fact come, but we suspected
patriotism, and the English seemed to have taken their place. Elizabeth watches
on average 4 movies/day for the 10 days of the festival, and is amazingly
cheerful and well informed and enthusiastic, even after watching an apparently
awfully explicit experimental (Brown Bunny) movie directed, produced and staring
the same person which the critics laughed at, and half walked out. We stayed 2
days, then moved on to Nice.
I cant leave this account raving briefly about Valencia, and Andalucia, (the
southern province of Spain where we spent the winter). Aguadulce gets about the
best climate in Europe during the winter (Canaries excepted), and we had been
getting tanned during February (but then lost it in March). We were delighted
that Ian and Muraid Adamson came for February half term, and for dedicated
non-boaters adapted to floating life well (albeit mostly tied up). We fell in
love with an original hill village above Aguadulce called Felix and with the
help of a talented teacher of Spanish, Jeanette, almost bought some land above
the village. But there was always going to be a shortage of water, and in the
end it didn’t work out, so we can continue our travels with all options open.
I am afraid that our previous knowledge of Spain was pitifully small – Madrid,
bullfighting, sherry and few beaches might have summed it up. But we managed
some fantastic visits inland during the winter and spring, and with my sister
Hilary went to Valencia for the major Fallas festival with 30 metre statues that
are burned at midnight on the last day. Without sounding like a travel agent I
can’t recommend Seville, Granada, Cordoba and Valencia too highly especially in
autumn, winter or spring.
We hope you are all well, and send our best wishes, if you would like to sail
with us on Intrepid or just spend a few days at a particular place do email!
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