The Preparation.

This is it ..At last we are going to take Compromis sailing. The rest of the lads are coming down on Wednesday but I flew down on the previous Friday night straight after work. My heart sank on Saturday morning looking at the jobs list which had grown to become a list of lists. Have a cup of coffee, walk up into the town, go shopping and then it will all become clearer and I’ll decide on which list to start.

Buttering my croissant I remembered that this is only the second morning I have spent afloat on the boat and maybe this is why even simple things like getting breakfast take so long. The learning curve is vertical. After breakfast I’ll start at the bottom and clean the bilges.

They are full of water! Clean water. Fresh water but water. Where the hell is it coming from and how am I going to find out? Maybe this explains why the freshwater pump keeps cutting in even when no taps are on. There is a leak in the freshwater plumbing and the pump has to keep making good the lost pressure but where on earth is the leak? Since there is water in the engine compartment that is where I’ll start looking and unbelievably, behind the first inspection panel, was a fine jet of hot water coming from a red rubber pipe. Things are never as simple as this. Still joy fills my heart, a few francs bought the replacement pipe and the job was done in minutes.

Still the pump clicked away and still water appeared in the bilges! Stay calm, be logical, why the hell should I? Boats! Switch off the pump, dry out the bilges, switch the pump back on and trace any new water coming into the bilges back to the leak. It came in under the door to the port aft cabin and there was more water under the cabin sole. Under the bed in the cabin was a 200l freshwater tank and there was water underneath it. How much would a new tank cost and how stupid not to have spotted this before I bought the boat. Don’t despair. Remove the bed and see if there is water at the aft end. Gallons of the stuff! A sense of hope returns because there are pipes running into the cabin from the cockpit locker. At least it’s not the water tank!

Everything in the port aft cockpit locker ended up piled high on the pontoon. Still I had to go deeper and out came the floor of the locker and there was the hot water tank. It looked surprisingly like the one at home. Water was all over the place and the pipe coming out of the top of the tank - carrying the hottest water - was clearly perished and so it was back to the man who sells red rubber pipe.

Still the pump clicked away and still there was water all over the hot water tank. This time I took off the copper elbow joint and below it was a little red washer whose replacement cost two francs and the pump fell silent. It stayed silent for two years and then it cost me fifty francs to find out that the end of the pressure release valve on the hot water tank has to be rotated every so often to breakup limescale on the valve seat. 

By the time everything was dried out and the boat put back together it was the end of the first day. Still, it had been a successful first day and I felt good about the job. Food had been forgotten but now my stomach would be denied no longer so I sat down and had a couple of beers. The Famiglia is the nearest restaurant to the boat. Mamma greets you, her son waits table and in the dining room cousin Angelo cooks enormous pizzas in a wood burning oven. They all seem to lend a hand in the kitchen at times and I’ve caught sight of an older unshaven man the other side of the kitchen door. The young bar maids change on a regular basis and so I take it that they are not family. It is not in the most fashionable part of Antibes, the decor hasn’t changed in twenty years, the table settings are simple but the food is good and certainly the best value in town. As a reward for my industrious day my credit card treated me to steak Milanese and chips with Italian beer and all for under ten pounds

Sunday, Monday and Tuesday are a blur of cleaning, visits to the shops, visits to the chandlers, a multitude of little jobs and learning how everything works. On Wednesday the Easter sailing lads arrived: Tim,another teacher, Steve from BT, Tony yet another teacher, Guy the carpet salesman and Les the third teacher. Last year we crossed the North Sea to Holland in Brandy Bottle and this year it is the Mediterranean in Compromis. So different is Compromis from Brandy Bottle that they walked about the boat, sat at the large table, turned on the hot water taps, walked into the two showers, chose their cabins and had a beer at the cockpit table.

The first sail

All the bags were thrown into the cabins and Compromis was off on her first sail with me at the helm. There was 15kt of breeze from the south west on the mooring and more outside. Once into the large outer harbour we unfurled the main. It was deceptively easy. Let off the jammer on the furling line and pull on the outhaul. Tim is addicted to WD 40 and ran around spraying everything that moved or should move and we tried tacking and gybing. All the clutches were labeled in French which is sensible on a French boat but we had to pull each line to see what moved. Still, we figured out how to unfurl the genoa and sailed out into the Baie des Anges and straight away had to figure out how to reef the sails. I know we should have done all this before we left but they are a good crew and pretty soon had it all figured out so that even I could see what was going on. The main kept unfurling itself but we figured out that by locking the furling clutch and then putting an extra turn on the unfurling winch, the furling line gripped tight and all was well.

Now we were away, short tacking up the eastern side of Cap d’Antibes in 20+kt. Once we mastered tacking and gybing Les tied a bucket and fender together and tossed them over the side for man overboard drill which all sounds a bit more seaman like. It proved the value of the swimming platform for recovering a man overboard because it is absolutely certain that Liz would never get me back without it. Not one wave had come aboard but it was time for a rest from the wind so we sailed into La Garoupe which is a large bay sheltered on three sides and open to the east. Perfect. Now we had to learn about anchoring.

In 5m of clear water the patches of sand and weed showed up very clearly and the electric windlass lowered the 45lb CQR to the bottom. A spot of reverse and the anchor was well dug into the sand and we were out of the wind and in the sun. Suddenly it was very warm and not at all like Terschelling in March. While Tony made tea and and opened my Mum’s carrot cake, Steve gave me a fishing lesson. He put a spinner on the line and taught me to cast over the stern and wind it in to lure the predators such as tuna. I soon got the hang of it but the tuna failed to play their part.

Back in Antibes my plan was to motor in reverse along pontoon 6 and turn, stern first, into berth 725. I put the wheel over to port and used the bowthrusters to push the bow to starboard. In retrospect I should have been going faster to give more steerage way and taken note of the wind direction relative to the berth, but it was too late now. It was quite clear that the wind was going to blow me alongside the pontoon instead of stern on. In these situations cut the engine and come to rest gently. It may damage one’s pride but it usually leaves the boats intact. Now I know the berth points 210M there are different berthing strategies depending on wind strength and direction.

The first day to Beaulieu sur Mer.

Thursday’s child has far to go and after Wednesday afternoon’s trial run, it was time for Compromis to go Easter cruising. Using the relative calm in the outer harbour Tim, Guy and Tony built on Wednesday’s experience to quickly unfurl the sails and we ran with the strong westerly wind in the direction of Cap Ferrat. Compromis was bounding along and, although there was a reasonable sea, nothing came on board and she felt on rails. Soon after leaving Nice airport to port Cap Ferrat was on the bow with no sign of the entrance to Rade de Villefranche but large threatening dark clouds were coming up astern. As the bay began to open up, a squall under one of the clouds caught up with us and we stormed in.

After a lunch stop in Villefranche it was to be an easy afternoon sail around Cap Ferrat to Beaulieu sur Mer and so it was, but as we tied up at the acqueill the lightning started and we were battered by hailstones the size of peas. Steve shouted that it wasn’t much different to the Waddenzee.

Monaco on Friday

The strong westerlies were still blowing on Friday morning and the sail to Monaco was simple and fast. Naively we went into the main harbour and were directed to a wall at the western end and had to anchor stern to. Tim had done a lot of this in Greece so he and an apprentice looked after the anchor and I drove us in. Even though the wind was in the west and the harbour opens to the east there was still a swell and I have been told subsequently that it is sick making in anything from the east. The only thing in its favour was that it was cheap.

Tony made the first entry in Compromis’ visitors log. In truth there wasn’t a visitors log before Tony.

Les and Steve put up the bimini and hung up the oilies under it and when we all sat down with a glass of wine, Guy pointed to Tony sitting on the pavement ashore painting. Sure enough he had out a small palate of water colours and a pad but I thought it a cruel suggestion that we put a hat out beside him. On board was a hard backed A4 note book and I asked Tony to paint in that. Later he showed us a view of the western entrance and one of Compromis with all the oilies drying. Since then all visitors have been invited to contribute to the log and I have Tony to thank for starting the tradition.

We have Les to thank for restricting the crew to 100 francs in the Casino. When I say the Casino I mean the consolation prize downstairs. We could all play the 1 franc slot machines but all winnings had to go into a separate pot, not to be reinvested. We played for 15 minutes and ended up with 33 francs in the winnings pot. Never has so little been gambled by so many with such little reward.

San Remo on Saturday

Next morning we set off on the eighteen or so miles to San Remo in Italy. Already this was becoming a three country holiday. The wind was still in the south west but even stronger and over the last few days had built the seas into large parallel waves. As each one rose behind us I braced myself for the broach but unlike the pinched ends of a UFO 34, Compromis sat her flat stern sections down on the leading face and went straight ahead.

After the embarrassment of not having a Monagese courtesy flag, etiquette was restored when we struck the French tricolour and raised the Italian flag crossing the border off Menton. Another five miles and Guy suggested we stop for lunch in Bordighera. Tim gave us a course for the entrance which brought the wind and sea even more astern. Now the seas were really big and as the water shoaled it turned a lighter turquoise while the discussion as to the where abouts of the entrance started. Clearly it was Bordighera since the name was painted in metre high letters on the breakwater. It was at the eastern end but where? After much debate and reading and rereading of the pilot we held our course. Still more discussion of conspic. churches but still I couldn’t see the entrance.  Then I spotted it, 40 degrees off the port bow. There was no one about so we afforded ourselves the luxury of going alongside alongside the visitors’ berth and Les and Guy set about making lunch while Steve gave me my second fishing lesson. This time the technique was different in that I had a float and bread paste as bait but the outcome was the same. The sun added Mediterranean warmth to the lunch of salami, Parma ham, blue d’Auvernia, baguette and a few bottles of beer. It also added colour to the cheeks of those who fell asleep afterwards.

No sooner had we cast off from Bordigera than San Remo came up on the bow. As we motored past the Capitainerie a man waved his arms, pointed deeper into the marina and rode off on a bike in that direction. He reappeared in a small gap between a new fifty foot yacht and a very smart motor boat. Confidence in my boat handling was growing but the gap was small, the wind would be on the bow and already the other two owners were putting out every fender they had to plug that gap. I turned to bring the head up into wind and gave a squirt on the bowthrusters to help her round but after five seconds it cut out. The manual talks of only five minutes continuous use but that was only five seconds. Everytime was the same and so I told everyone we were going in without the bowthrusters and to be ready to give their bodies for the gel coat. Once between the other two boats their bulbous fenders held us in position and all was well.

The problem with the bowthrusters was not one of over heating but one of not enough electrical power. Two days of unrestricted use of electricity for the fridge, freshwater pump, lights, CD-player and navigation instruments had left the domestic battery voltage down. High enough to start the engine, which is what I did, but not high enough to sustain the 100+A for the bowthrusters. I must remember to turn on the engine battery for engine start and bowthruster use. Another notch on the learning curve.

Two more notches quickly followed. Springs are needed when moored stern to otherwise as the boat moves in the wind the stern will swing the passerelle like a scythe through the Italian promenaders as they take the evening air along the harbour. The second is that our mains plug fits very few of the sockets in any of the marinas. Not for the last time we had to replace our plug with one from a bag of spares down below. On subsequent visits to San Remo we paid a small fee for an electrician to come on his scooter and fit his plug and then he would return in the morning  to change them back and refund our deposit.

After happy hour and showers on board we all walked up into the town for dinner and a few beers. San Remo is large and on that first visit we didn’t find much to impress except Dino’s bar and cafe. All around the walls were photographs of all the Hollywood greats of the last forty years shaking hands with the same guy in the same restaurant. Dino came over.

“Is my restaurant in Hollywood. All the stars come to my place.”

 He went round the walls naming them all and remembering their favorite meals and then joined us for a beer.

“That Ava Gardner,” he says” why she have to drink so much? She come to my place and she drink too much. Why she drink too much? I said to her why you drink so much? You got all that money. You got all that fame. Why you drink so much?”

Each round of drinks was the prompt for another chapter in her life story.

Monday morning and back to Antibes.

Monday morning there wasn’t a cloud on the sky, not a breath of wind and and it was an easy decision to start back to Antibes. With only 35nM to go there seemed little hurry and after a leisurely breakfast we motored out onto a flat calm sea. Approaching Monaco a breeze filled in from the west and with full main and genoa Compromis managed three to four knots. With impeccable manners we tacked away from a fleet of day boats racing off the Principality and with a little more wind the speed became a more respectable. Off Cap Ferrat the wind had increased to 25kt and the genoa was wound in to the second blue spot and a third of the main had been furled.

Just then, one of the fenders undid itself from the granny bars at the mast and went over the side. After the usual incriminations over who tied the knot, it was declared a man over board and we tacked on to port and bore away. Abeam of the drowning man we gybe and reached across toward him gradually bringing the boat into the wind in an attempt to kill the boat speed just as the fender came along the windward side. Trouble was that as the speed came off the boat a combination of wind and waves would blow us off and we would have to go around again. Had he been conscious we were close enough to throw him floatation support or a line but it took three goes to get a hold of him. As they keep saying “Don’t go over the side.”

Back on course the wind quickly built to 35kt and we had the third reef in the genoa and very little main. Progress was slow against a short steep sea and on port tack we were being set down toward the exclusion zone around Nice airport. Now the wind was consistently over 40 kt and the genoa couldn’t be flattened enough to go to windward in this and so it was completely wound in and we started the engine. Not wanting to slam into the seas I kept the revs down and although we were going in the right direction it was very slow. Tim suggested a bit more main and that made all the difference. The speed went up and the boat was a lot steadier. Todays change in conditions made me realise that I have a great need to get to grips with the local weather and forcasting because back in the North Sea we would never have been so unprepared. I also need to be able to flatten that headsail more or get another sail so that we can go to windward in a blow. But as Liz would say “Why go to windward in a blow?”

With the practice we had had all week and knowing both the wind direction and berth orientation I went for plan B. This was to motor past the berth in forward, reverse back with the wind on the bow, turn the stern to starboard, let the wind bring the bow round and use the bowthrusters to stop it going too far. The manouvere worked a treat.

[Home] [Our articles] [Cookbook] [Readers] [Links]