Mad about Marseille

Okay, this blog is a retrospective. The Pavlovians are actually on the hard, polishing and cleaning Pavlov and fettling her for a new owner. We've been in the stark reality of Port Napoleon for a few weeks now. Life on the hard is always... well, hard! We've rented an apartment in town, and emptied the entire contents of Pavlov into this flat, that actually feels smaller than Pavlov. I've been exhausting myself polishing the hull, and Megan has sweated blood and tears over the interior, getting her back to pristine shape and obliterating the past 5 years of life aboard her. During this time, the wind has never stopped, blowing between 20 and 40 knots most days, alternating with periods of overcast rain. Anyway, the job is about done, and the first prospective buyer is coming for a second visit today.

Anchored in the Iles de Frioles, just outside Marseille. 

Dusk in the Iles de Frioles.

So with work on the boat currently in abeyance, I thought to take a moment to complete the blogs of our trip here. Marseille was the last major port we sailed to in Pavlov, and we were being met here by two of our good friends from Australia, Kiss and Crim (actually Chris and Kim, but the Spoonerism just gets stuck in my mind). I actually taught with Chris at Casino High School in a former life, and they have had the dubious honour of being the only return invitee's to Pavlov; in fact they have been on board three times now. They sailed with us in Turkey at the start of our voyage. Chris was working in a school outside Istanbul at the time. They met us again in Greece for a great tour through the Ionian, and here they were again for the 'last voyage' of Pavlov. We thought we'd do a retrospective tour back through the wonderful French coast we'd just sailed.

Our berth at the yacht club in Marseille

That's the floating club house for the marina.

Pavlov on the crowded dock

We met up with some old cruising friends who lived in Marseille, Eric and Hanife. They showed us around Marseille, including lunch at the very scenic spot below.

Our lunch venue

View of Vielle Port in Marseille.

Eric, Megan and Hanife.

Old town of Marseille

The 'tres chic' Pavlovians at large

Panoramic view of Marseille's old port

French statuary has something unique about it

Eric with his mother

Small fishing port surrounded by the metropolis 

Fisherman cottage

Entrance to fishing port

French seaside pool

Eric and Hanifer took us up to the Basilique Notre-Dame de la Guarde, the church that towers over Marseille. It's a stunning view from up here. The church is interesting in that it contains lots of models and memorabilia of ships and aircraft whose owners believe that the vessel was saved by their God imprecations.

Marseille panorama from the Basilica Notre-Dame

A view of the old port from the church

The main steeple

Church facade

Main altar

Note the models of the 'saved' vessels

More 'saved' memorabilia

Chris and Kim arrived, and we retraced our steps, sailing for 9 days to Toulon and back. We had a wonderful time, it was re-energizing having them on board to make everything remarkable again.

Sunset at La Ciotat

Pavlov at the 'Quai d'Accueil' at Sanary

The port at Sanary 

Traditional boats at Sanary

The Admiral in Sanary

Silk artwork in the sweet

Spit, Megan, Chris and Kim with Pavvie in the background at Bandol

The port at Madraque

So, reminiscences aside, I need to haul myself back to present reality. Its a huge shift for us, to move our base from a floating gypsea life-style to living in a suburban flat. Wish us luck in maintaining our sanity. Caio for now!

Point counterpoint

My heart is full but breaking. We are at the point, the point that is at the end of the line. The full stop point. Life is about to change, with new and as yet undiscovered purposes, people and places. But this is the moment of recollection and reflection. We have spent almost five years on a journey of adventure, seeing much of the ancient world from the sea. But it has also been a journey into ourselves and into our relationship. We know better now, our capabilities; that we can achieve what we set our minds and hearts to. I also think that our relationship has deepened. We trust each other more, we are closer and more open, we rely on each other for support amidst all the change. We know that we can live intimately together in a very small space that is like a womb at sea, our cosy home.

The point: on the dock at Port Napoleon

Today, I'm pulling apart Spit, our tender. The cover that I agonisingly made for her two years ago has perished, falling apart in my hands. The memories of struggling on the dock at Lefkas to make a pattern for the cover flood over me, I'm transported back in time.

The wind-blasted Camargue

Every part of the boat that I touch sends reverberations and echoes through my mind. The memories tumble ashore like sea-blown wrack. Yesterday, we sailed from Marseille in 25 knot winds. We had a new friend on board who may become the purchaser of Pavlov. It was a bright sail, the sea glinted in the sun, the foam blew off my coffee in the gusty Mistral wind. My heart was leaping, exalted by the sail, knowing also that we were sailing to our end.

A real boat-yard

We arrived at Port Napoleon, and I was in a kind of shocked daze. We were here, this is the end point. The place was deserted, a kind of boatie ghost town, it was Saturday and no staff were present. A small panic in trying to find transport for Bogdan, who needed to return to Vienna the next morning, was solved by a call to the local taxi driver by a helpful inmate of the boat yard. We drank a beer together in the small local bar, frequented by old salts who called this place home. My shock deepened. We always experience a few days dislocation as we flip from summer travelling mode, to winter live-aboard mode.

Windy Port St. Louis

But this sense of dislocation was deeper. We know by now what our winter life will look like. Moments of exhausting boat work, interspersed with lots of new friends, new social moments and life as a part of a maritime boating community in a foreign land. This time, we have no expectations. We have no home to go to, but must forge one anew. We have family, but we do not know their expectations or limitations. Megan hopes for grand-mothership, a new kind of sailing, but how can we re-locate to one of the most expensive cities in the world. Pavlov lies here as a ticking time bomb; if she sells, life can continue in Australia, but if she does not, we will need to return and take her up the canals to a new end point in the UK. Lots of uncertainties and imponderable.

Port St. Louis keep and tower

So I empty my mind, breath in the salty, spicy mistral wind and look over the strangely beautiful marshes of the Carmargue. The kite surfers are like a cloud of colourful mosquitoes buzzing on the horizon, wild birds wheel and keen, and the wind howls a constant banshee shriek. This moment is good, and that's all that matters.

Seeking a new perspective

End of the Line

If you drew a line starting in Fethiye in southern Turkey, and traced it around the coast of the northern Mediterranean for about 8500 nautical miles, that line would pass along the coasts of Turkey, Greece, Albania, Montenegro, Croatia,  Slovenia, Italy and France. It would end around Marseille in France, and that's the end of the line. Its also the end of the line for us, give or take a few more miles. We are approaching the end of our voyage, at least in its present form.

The coast approaching Marseille is gorgeous, and it is probably the most scenic coast in the south of France.  After leaving Toulon, we skipped down the coast to La Ciotat, a lovely town with a long boat building history. The naval boat building has long ago died, but the old cranes and waterfront factories are now building super yachts for the immensely wealthy, and high tech carbon fibre racing boats for the extreme sports community. We saw a foiling trimaran there that was just super fast.

Pavlov on the dock at La Ciotat

The cranes of La Ciotat

Beautiful historic vessels

'Boff Boats'

On the dock, we met an English gentleman who said he was on a Bentley car rally. He offered to show us some of the cars on the rally. The basement car park was filled with 42 pristine vintage cars from 1928 to 1981. Our friend had two vintage Bentley's, he was taking his 'new' one for a run, a lovely sky blue model from 1981. We asked if there was much competition between Bentley and Rolls owners, and he promptly told us that he owned a vintage Rolls as well, so that he could belong to both clubs!

Some vintage Bentley's from the english rally

The distinctive eagle-like headland at La Ciotat

Classic french lugger boats

After La Ciotat, the geology turns to limestone cliffs. At points, these cliffs are eroded by water to form fjords that the French call calanques. We took the boat into several of these, and they were beautiful and naturalistic places.

Morgiou calanque

The calanque at Port Miou 

An overhead view of Port Miou 

We anchored off the beach at Cassis and Bandol, and enjoyed visiting those two small coastal towns.

Cassis

Waterfront at Cassis

Meagan about in Cassis

West from Cassis, there is a National Park with jagged limestone islands lying just off the coast. We explored the islands and a few more calanques. There is such natural beauty in this coastline, the stark limestone islands, the blues of the sky and water, it was all very beautiful.

Limestone cliffs of the area

Ile Riou, just off the coast

Entering the  calanque Port Le Pins

Looking down the calanque

Calanque Sormiou

Finally, we spent a night in the lovely small islands Iles de Frioles, just outside of Marseille.

Sunset at Ile de Friole

The lunar landscape, Ile de Friole

Dusk

Next stop is Marseille, the last major port and city that we will visit with Pavlov. We plan to meet our great friends Eric and Hanife, who we met initially in Lefkada, Greece. We also want to catch up with some Australian friends, Chris and Kim, who have been on Pavlov 3 times, so they are repeat offenders! See you then.