Lifestyles Of The Rich And Famous
With a fair distance to travel today, it was decided we would rise before dawn to make the most of the day. Leaving the safe haven of Porquerolles, at 3am, (yep, you read that right) we headed out once again into the open sea; destination somewhere in the vicinity of Nice or Monte Carlo.
To pass the time, Captain Al had issued Able Seaman Jones with two small ropes and a challenge. Not only did he have to become proficient in tying at least 3 new nautical knots but he had to pass his newly acquired knowledge on to his fellow crew members. This was a task taken very seriously by Seaman Jones and now that the gauntlet had been thrown down, with the tenacity of a bull terrier, he set about achieving his goal. Glued to YouTube knot-tying tutorials, he slowly but surely conquered the world of knots. After each small triumph he would waltz around the cabin, grinning ear-to-ear, chest puffed with pride and proffering his latest elaborate fastening for us to admire. We were suitably impressed, as was the Captain. So, if ever you’re in need of a tight Zeppelin Bend or a never-fail Halyard Hitch Knot, you know who to see. If nothing else, he’s added to his repertoire of party tricks.
As the sun peeped over the horizon, I had my first official watch. Alone in the wheelhouse, I felt more confident in the daylight and had been prepped to nudge my sweetly snoring crew mates if anything out of the ordinary (or out of my range of expertise – which, let’s face it, was just about everything) should crop up. The sophisticated radar system allows you to plot your course and auto pilot moves you along through the water. As you watch your boat cruise along its trajectory, all other boats and sea craft pop up on the screen. If they get too close, an alarm sounds and you may or may not need to alter your course to avoid a collision. It’s like a giant video game really. At one stage, Pasha was gaining on a little yacht and the alarm sounded. Al is notorious for sleeping through the alarm, so I had to gently wake him to ask what I should do. As soon as his eyes opened, he sprung into action with the vigour and enthusiasm of a bag of cats. I was so impressed at how wide awake and ready for action he was.
One thing I hadn’t yet been schooled in was how to use the radio. Every now and then a French voice would say something and I wasn’t even sure they were talking to me. Resisting the temptation to say “breaker, breaker Big Daddy, do you read me?” , or to ask “how about some clearance Clarence?”, I just had to listen and wish I’d gleaned more from Year 7 French lessons than just being able to say “Tourist Information Bureau”.
With some sailing tunes as our soundtrack, the wind in our hair and conditions perfect, morning tea of Spanish jamon and cheese was delicious and much less eventful than the previous morning’s snack of “smelly” cheese and crackers. Chelle had mentioned the cheese may have been a little smellier than usual but we all remembered the old adage that it would taste better than it smelt. As each of us lifted a cheese laden cracker to our lips, the stench of unwashed socks filling our senses, we tasted the said cheese and unanimously decided that this time that old adage did not ring true. This cheese was crook. Mid conversation, without a skerrick of warning, Al picked up the pungent piece and, with an overarm David Warner would’ve been proud of, hoiked it out the side door into the deep, blue sea. Just like that. We were speechless for a second, before breaking into peals of laughter. I’m tipping the fish won’t even like it.
Seeing the towns and cities of the French Riviera lined up along the banks of the Mediterranean from our perspective out at sea, was an incredible sight indeed. Chateaus, castles and grand old mansions sat atop hills, gazing down at the villages below. It is quite surreal to be sailing past so many famous places – St Tropez, Cannes, Antibes… With map in hand, we matched each cliffside town to its name as we snapped away like the paparazzi, simmering away under the Mediterranean sun.
Chelle and Ross were frantically trying to find us a marina to stay at, calling multiple options but having no luck; the communication barrier proving a big one to climb in many cases. Michelle started each conversation with “Do you speak English?” But as the fruitless search continued, that changed to “COULD you please speak English?” Being the weekend, most were full. There was just no room at the inn. So, we kept sailing on past Nice, deciding to cross that bridge when we came to it and just enjoy the incredible scenery.
As we neared Monaco, the sea became a bit choppier. I’m not sure if that’s due to the weather conditions or the sheer volume of speed boats, jet skis and pleasure craft zooming out from the pristine, yacht-strewn shores of the second smallest nation in the world. Two of Al’s favourite things in the whole world – fast cars and super yachts – were in absolute abundance and he was like a kid in a candy shop. He expertly manoeuvred Pasha into a very prestigious marina lined with the most enormous, luxurious, ridiculously opulent boats we’d ever seen and we had uninterrupted, close-up views of the entire city. Al was well and truly checking off a bucket list item here, showing us the Grand Prix track with its tunnels, twists and turns. It was incredible!
The Crew That Can’t (normally) Make A Decision did itself proud, decisively turning Pasha around and opting to go back to Nice. Chelle was able to find us a berth at the Saint Laurent Marina, a big marina full of BIG boats just next to Nice airport. I have a bit of the Daryl Kerrigans in me and love watching planes take off, so all was good in the world. After a quick change of berths due to a different power connection, we took ourselves to a beautiful little pebbly beach for a much-needed dip. Thinking Chelle’s decision to swim in her thongs was a bit over-the-top, I was kicking myself (with my scarred bare feet) after enduring the walk back to my towel over those pesky rocks, that I hadn’t taken her advice. Lesson learnt.
We spent the night in old town Nice and it was BUZZING with activity! By the time we ate it was almost 10pm and at midnight there was still a pulsing throng out on the town. Young and old, enjoying the sights, still in packed restaurants and dancing the night away. It was amazing to see so many people out this late. It was 28 degrees at 12 o’clock, and extremely humid when we got back, happy to have survived the wild ride in our taxis. Chelle’s genius idea to put a spray bottle in the fridge before we left was received gratefully and was an absolute godsend.
We are looking forward to more exploring tomorrow!
