St Martin Ile de Re

Thursday dawned warm, still and hazy.  Following a trip up the hill past the convent to buy bread we were soon breakfasted and ready to leave just as the tide was turning to carry us to our next destination, St Martin on Ile de Re.  The Marina is protected by huge stone breakwaters and it was only as we turned around the end of the breakwater that we saw the waves.  As the swell approached the shore, across the shallow sand, the surf steepened and shortened and our exit had a touch of Hawaii Five-Oh as we crested each wave and fell into the following trough!  Things soon smoothed out as we moved into deeper water and we turned southeast down the coast.

Barely half a mile from the coast the haze prevented us from seeing land, we hoisted the sails in the light breeze, but kept the engine going to keep up speed; we had to reach St Martin at the top of the tide in order to enter the locked inner harbour.

Before long the haze became fog and Chris was below watching the radar while I kept a look out for the dreaded lobster pots.  Despite the poor visibility, above our heads was clear blue sky and the sun warmed the boat beautifully.

Our route took us no more than four miles offshore and the sandy bottom was never far away, the deepest we saw was seventeen metres, the shallow warm water above teemed with huge jellyfish, ugly tentacled creamy-white footballs.  At times the water was so thick with them it was like sailing through soup.

By midday we were well into the channel between Ile de Re and the mainland and the fog was lifting.  We could just about make out the arc traced in the distant blue sky by the new two-mile long suspension bridge dropping at either end into the mist.  Our next hop, tomorrow to La Rochelle, would take us beneath this concrete serpent.

We were less than a mile from our final destination, the small fortified town of St Martin, when it appeared through the haze.  The approach into the port dries and is strewn with rocks so we concentrated hard on picking up the leading line.  As we drew near, the white painted buildings capped with bright red tiled roofs announced, we hoped, the arrival of a warmer climate.  Once through the outer fortifications we pottered in to the inner basin and found ourselves sailing through the centre of a small town built around the quay.  We continued to the right, past the swinging bridge and lock gates into the inner harbour, that would allow us to berth overnight without drying out as the tide left.  As we negotiated the lock gate we were hailed by the harbourmaster who allocated us berth forty two for the night.  Forty-Two could not have been more central and we ‘parked’ outside a restaurant, below its terrace.

After an explore ashore and to pay our harbour dues we unfolded the bimini awning across the cockpit, providing some much needed shade, and ‘opened the bar’ just watching the busy bustle of life pass by.