La Rochelle

It was only a very short hop from the idyllic Ile de Re to La Rochelle.  We had been looking forward to reaching the place that has been pictured on the front of our North Biscay pilot book; the two towers guarding the Vieux Port right in the heart of the historical city.  We were grateful that the high tide to get us through the lock and out of St Martin came mid-afternoon and it was another beautifully sunny day.  We had erected the bimini in St Martin and so this was the first chance we’d had to try it out under sail.  Once clear of the shallows Chris heaved on the main halyard and up went the sail.  Soon the engine was off and the genoa unfurled and we were away.  The sea was only slightly rippled but there was enough breeze to achieve our five knot target.  We were aiming for the magnificent bridge, which sweeps across this stretch of water, linking Ile de Re to the mainland.

Everything was going well.  The bimini provided welcome shade from the heat of the sun and the wind direction was just allowing us to head towards the bridge span we would need to pass below. . . . and then the breeze just vanished.  We had been following another yacht which moments before had come to a standstill, sails flapping aimlessly and you could see the water beneath the bridge was glassy smooth, no hint of a breeze.  Never mind.  The engine went on again and as we ventured under the archway I just about found the courage to look up.  It is so deceptive to look up a mast when there is a road above you.  It never looks like you will safely fit under!

Passing the docks and hearing the “clonk” of cargoes being set onto their ship, we were reminded of Southampton.  We chugged on past, sorting out the sails as there seemed little chance of sailing again that afternoon.  There were a couple of large ships anchored out of the fairway waiting, we presumed, for their turn to enter the port.  We were following the chart quite carefully at this point to ensure we had the right heading as we motored up the narrow channel in the river.  Soon, Minimes came into view, Europe’s largest marina with over 3000 berths!  We had decided though to go right up the river to the Vieux port, even though we would probably sink into the mud a little at low water.  If there was space we thought it would be worth the effort. 

It certainly was!  The lighthouses, which provide the leading line, were superb - a great help even in daylight.  The lower one wore the traditional red and white stripes and beyond and above stood a green-topped tower.  They both flashed a light during the day, which was also clearly visible and with the red can buoys there was little chance of missing the channel.  As the ancient fortifications came closer into view we wondered whether to take in the ensign because the English used not to be welcome here and a chain would be pulled across the river to stop unbidden guests!  Hence the port hand tower is named Tour de la Chaine.  But we have read that yachtsmen are quite gladly received nowadays and headed in!  There were yachts already moored on the visitors pontoon and the closest one was British so we called out to see if they would help us to raft alongside.  The crew of Cromwell were quite agreeable to the idea and by 1800 we were safely tied up and the sun was still shining down.

We didn’t know how long we were going to stay in La Rochelle but the harbour master helped us to decide by offering us a third night free if we were to pay for two!  That was a bargain to be had and we felt that there would be time to explore and relax in the heat of the summer, which seemed really to have arrived at last.  We contemplated visiting the towers but at nearly five pounds each to get a brief rooftop view of the city we decided against it but enjoyed the walk around the town to see them - we really can be quite mean!!  Perhaps because of the improved weather we saw street artists for the first time and, along with all the pavement cafes and ‘toot-toots’ of the ever popular mopeds, La Rochelle was much more the “France” I had expected to see.  What a contrast to the tranquillity of Morbihan.

We still have a few jobs to do on the boat and decided that with this continent’s biggest marina only a couple of miles away there must be some good chandlers.  So, we hopped on a water taxi, which took us back out of the city to the marina, but could we find a decent yachtie shop? No.  It was a fun excursion but we returned to La Premiere a little disappointed. 

We spent that evening in the company of the crew of Cromwell, Barry and Ann with Ann’s brother Michael who had recently joined them for a couple of weeks.  We chatted for hours over red wine, coffee and nibbles.  They are on their way home, having taken the canal route back from the Med to Bordeaux and we swapped suggestions on the best places to visit.  They keep Cromwell on the Deben in Suffolk and to our delight they had sailed once to Maldon, the town where Chris and I grew up, and even knew of Heybridge Basin!  It’s a small world. 

Our new friends were heading north the next day and the wind, which during our stay in La Rochelle had become more southerly, was suited to them.  Our next planned trip was to Royan at the mouth of the Gironde but the wind would still be against us so Chris and I were happy to have our third “free” night in the city, which, though noisy, had been our most summery ‘sojourn’ so far.  The forecast for the next few days also looked rather ominous with threats of thundery showers and as we were in need of a change we decided to make a short trip to Ile d’Oleron the next day.