and Toga Marina in the distance
We packed up, retrieved the dinghy and outboard, and got ready to sail. Recovering the anchor proved tricky, as it pulled up short and appeared to be snag after only about a third had been recovered. The winch was not having any of it, so we motored forwards, backwards, and forwards again. Somehow we managed to free it, and the rest came easily if well dug into the mud. We then made for the fuelling berth, and filled up, almost a pleasurable experience with the fluently english-speaking attendant.
It was a blustery northerly F5 blowing into the bay, with some short steep waves, and at first we did not set any sail as we had a six mile beat to the north east corner of the island. This made heavy weather of it, so we set the jib, and motored, tacking into the wind, making better progress, and finally set the main. The halyard had managed to wrap around the spreaders, so had to be retrieved. Once around the headland we were able to bear away and tacked downwind to the south eastern extremity. We were surprised to see that the Moby ferries serviced the harbours on this side of the island, as well as Portoferraio. The island itself was most attractive, lightly settled with villas half hidden amongst green trees on the hill sides. The south east point itself had been disfigured by old open mine workings.
Once on the south side of the island the wind became extremely gusty and variable around the north west, so that we had to beat to fetch our course, frequently rounding up or spilling to accomodate the gusts which came from 15knots to 25knots apparent within seconds. We arrived in the western most of the southerly bays, Campo di Marina, and anchored off the beach. As the evening passed more and more yachts came in to anchor with us, but there was plenty of room. Two went stern to the end of the small harbour mole, and a motor boat perched on what Mo maintains is the fuelling berth.
We decided to stay where we were, and stretch our legs ashore. There were one or two jobs to be done while we still had the internet, including getting the 'Superwind' wind generator we have decided to fit on order. When the time came to get the dinghy down and get ready to go ashore, the outboard once more obstinately refused to start. Eventually I gave in and brought it back on board, and took the carburettor off yet again. As I had suspected, there was little or no fuel in the float chamber. I took the fuel pump to bits, and tried to polish the sprung stainless steel 'valves' which appeared to have some residue on them, and checked the fuel passageway to make sure it was clear. For good measure the jets came out of the carb and everything had a good swish and soak in very hot water. Back on the dinghy, the outboard started without any trouble. This activity occupied what was left of the morning, so we had a late lunch, and eventually got ashore. The town, or village, was very attractive, with a large number of smart tourist type shops, smart clothes, etc., and many eating places along the pedestrianised main street. We walked out along the beach, and stopped at a beach bar for a drink until the sun went down behind the hill. We had the fish for supper that we had bought in Pilos, and which has survived the freezer defrost and since had been in occupation of the fridge ice box: Mo complained it had too many bones, but it was fine!
We came too at nearly 9 o'clock, having not set the alarm, so bang went our early start! There was work to do to recover the dinghy, and so on, so that we were not away until gone 1000. The wind was very light SE, the direction forecast, but it never came to much and we had to motor all the way. There was little about to entertain us, so we took turns at watching out, and read. As we approached the Corsican coast, the cloud over the mountains looked ominous and thundery. We tried the old basin first: according to our old pilot there was room there for 30 visitors, but although there was a handful there and vacant space, there were no laid lines, and no free mooring buoys to hold us off the quay. Mo's priority was to get some water to deal with the backlog of washing, and it was not obvious that that was available. We aborted, and tried the 'anchorage' to the south shown on the pilot, nearly running down a snorkeller who was swimming underwater without a marker buoy on the way. The anchorage was barely an indentation, and hardly secure enough for what promised to be dubious weather. We were therefore thrown upon the mercy of the Toga marina. We arrived in the narrow entrance, and formed the impression that the guy who met us was more intent on getting home: he told us to go alongside where available three pontoons down. We got there, with barely manoevering room, to find no alongside berth available. We managed to retrace our steps, turn and enter bows to alongside a very smart Finnish Swan, just as the heavens opened. The skipper of the Swan very kindly came off in the rain to help us with our lines. We went below to find the water pump running: the water had run out! So I had to borrow the hose of a British Amel that we had seen in Portoferrairo, as our adaptors would not fit. We battened down for the night.
It seemed to howl in the rigging overnight, but then it always does in marinas. The next door boat but one had not frapped its halyards. Mo set about the washing, while I went to the Capitainerie to pay our dues: worse than I imagined at just over 100 for the two nights. Then we went shopping. There is a Geant Casino supermarket directly opposite the marina, perhaps the nearest we have ever been to such an establishment, and very convenient. Suddenly we had a wealth of French food and wine on a plate, but some of it seemed a bit expensive. Afterwards I went in search of the pizzeria/sandwicherie whose wifi I was picking up to buy a ticket. The wifi at the capitainerie was not operational, and the lady there did not seem very interested in getting it fixed. With that I was able to do the business while Mo finished the washing
A charter boat full of mostly older, rather overweight Germans had come in alongside, and taken some settling down as they clearly had not much of a clue between them: the skipper must have been well into his 70's. Later, after another late lunch, we set off to have a look around the town. Much of Bastia is very old, but now seems to cope with volumes of traffic and is a busy ferry port. We walked through a large (tarmac laid) central square with a bandstand in the middle, and memorials to the fallen in wars in 1871, and the two world wars. A rather Caesarian statue set amongst palm trees seemed to be something to do with Napoleon.
We made our way to the old port, by way of a raised walkway decorated with planters with tall grasses and flowers. The road at this point enters an underpass that goes beneath the harbour and through the massive rock on which most of the old town was built, and emerges again to the south. In the old harbour we mooched around: there was water and electricity to be had, and half a dozen boats were moored there, some lying to their own anchors.
Our next stop was the magnificent cathedral (?) that is built one level back and up from the port: there is an open square to the east, but the main front facia on the south side is off the narrow street. Inside there were several side chapels with icons in memory of various saints, some light through stained glass windows, and most impressive of all, an enormous and most beautiful painting on the very high ceiling. After that, we needed a drink at one of the bars. Thus fortified, Mo found some steps leading up behind the port, to the south. These led to some of the very old parts of the town, with narrow steep streets between the houses, all surrounded by fortified walls within the protection of Le Bastion. Here again was another church with a beautiful facia. From the top, we took a different route through the gardens and down a magnificent stairway (1873) with wrought iron ballustrades and another statue of Napoleon. This brought us back to the old port, and then 'home', arriving somewhat exhausted by our efforts.
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| The bandstand, in the middle of the main square | The cathedral behind the old harbour buildings |
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| There is very limited space for visitors in the old harbour | Looking north from above the old harbour, the commercial harbour and Toga Marina in the distance |
We were up reasonably early, and having had breakfast, mounted another raid on the Geant Casino. It was too good to miss, and we stocked up on difficult to carry stuff, such as water and milk, as well as other more valuable commodities. We topped up our tanks with water, bailed out the bilges, and cleared the marina around 1100 hrs. There was very little wind, Force 2 from the south east, so we did not bother with the sails at all. Fortunately we found we had a healthy current with us. The eastern side of the Cap de Corse is extremely attractive. It is green, partly cultivated and sparsely populated, with small settlements at the mouth of rivers that come down from the mountains behind. Some of these have some sort of small boat harbour, as well as a sandy beach which make good anchorages. We decided that we would anchor off the beach when we found a good spot: most were occupied. Having rounded the Pointe d'Agnello, the most northerly point on the Cap, we opted for the beach off Barcaggio. We enjoyed relaxing in the warm sunshine, swimming, reading and painting, as we felt appropriate.
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| Pointe d'Agnello and Marine de Barcaggio, the most northern point on the Cap de Corse |
We paid for our relaxation in the early hours. A light offshore breeze came in, but it was the westerly swell that caused the problem. With Fuga lying to the breeze, the seas slapped up under the sugar scoop stern, the noise made worse because the boarding ladder was down. When we lay across the waves, we simply rolled horribly in the shallow water. When eventually daylight came, we got up, had a hurried breakfast, and got under way as soon as we could. As we came out of the bay we were exposed to the full swell, and with the sails up in the almost negligible breeze the battens slapped from side to side. The bottom batten came out of the box and past the retaining strap, so slowly worked its way out until we were forced to put in a reef to avoid losing it: even then it managed to creep out along the boom. We motored all the way to St. Florent, and there was no respite from the swell until we came into the lee of the coast to the north west. From our anchorage, the coast had become much steeper too, and more dramatic, but we hardly appreciated it.
We anchored off the entrance to the harbour at St. Florent, and after lunch I went ashore to find some wifi, obtain a weather forecast, and pick up e-mails. Then I returned to Fuga, picked up Mo and we went ashore for a walk. St. Florent harbour has a large number of berths, and many appeared to be available. It is a pleasant tourist village, with many restaurants and bars, and some smart shops, as well as a few more useful ones including a reasonable chandlers. The Citadel, which looks quite impressive from offshore, was unfortunately rather scruffy, and all locked up, with no explanation of its history. It was, I surmise from the pilot book, built by the Genoese in the 17th century.
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| St Florent and marina from the entrance | Plenty of bars and restaurants to choose from |
We decided to re-anchor on the south west side of the bay, and made for a point just south of the ruined Genoese tower that Lord Hood apparently had a problem sacking in 1794. There were two yachts there, so we went instead half a mile south and anchored of the entrance of the small river Santu. At least we had a quiet night, with only minimal swell later in the night.
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| The remains of the Genoese tower that Lord Hood had such a problem sacking |
We had had to remove the batten from the pocket in the sail to avoid losing it, and so something had to be done. I grafted on an additional 50mm using epoxy and fibreglass re-inforcement, having first thinned it down a bit with the angle grinder to provide for an overlap, and helped it to react with some heat from the hot air gun. What a benefit a generator can provide! Mo, in the meantime, was inspired to do some scrubbing around the heads. It was quite late by the time we set off, with only a light NE breeze that came and went. We stopped to take some photos of the tower ruin, and then headed off on a port tack to try to get out of the bay. As we emerged from the bay the wind backed gradually round until it was WSW F4, so our course described an arc until we were pointing towards St. Tropez - not quite what we wanted. Meanwhile the north westerly seas which we had experienced the day before returned to haunt us, and we were forced to motor-sail into them: the slamming was horrendous. We tried tacking close into the shore to try to get some relief from them, but the shore was littered with reefs that did not appear on the chart, so we had to hold off. The extended batten broke free of its velcro strap again, so we reefed, although the Lewmar block had given out (as they all do) and needs to be replaced. The extension is also not thick enough for the batten box, so will need to be modified. Another of the batten pcckets is also torn already.
As we rounded the headland into the large bay (Anse de Peraiola) east of L'isle Rousee the wind veered a little, and we were almost able to sail our course for a while, so we ended on a bit of a high. The day had been overcast, and with the shortening days, we needed to get settled much earlier. We anchored off the town outside the moorings, south of the ferry quay. After supper we had the backgammon out: its some time since we had played, but the long evenings are becoming a challenge to fill.
The night was slightly disturbed with the yelp of dogs, and the arrival of a ferry in the early morning. We had breakfast and got under way quite early. We had picked out an anchorage, the Marine d'Elbo in the Baie of the same name. The virtues of this area were extolled in our pilot guide, so we decided to make for it, and perhaps linger there a while. For some reason I was extremely tired, maybe just dreaming, or maybe the dogs, but I had a kip while Mo kept watch. There was no wind at all. We passed Calvi, a popular port and apparently pretty, away to port as I slept. Mo said it looked nice. As we ran along fairly close to the points, the hues of the cliffs did change to an orange-red which was set off by the green vegetation. We passed some wide bays with beaches, but all were more or less open to the west.
We arrived at Marine d'Elbo around lunch time, having made good time and felt our way into the anchorage, which was deserted. We were almost on the beach before the depths came down, and we dropped our hook. It was however immediately obvious to us that this was not the place for us to spend a peaceful night. The creek was aptly named there was simply no elbow room there at all, even if we did lay a kedge, and mooring to the beautiful red rocks was expressly 'interdit'. We hurriedly knocked up and bolted down a ham sandwich, and got ready to move on, Plan B.
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| Bright green vegetation, and red rocks | Sharp rocks, with vertical faults provided the attraction |
Making sail under the lee of the nearby Punta Palazzu, it began to rain, and we were simultaneously hit by F6 gusts that appeared from nowhere. Once clear of the point, though, the wind practically disappeared. Tourist boats were taking people close in under the red rocks, that had vertical fault lines forming narrow caves and even a couple of 'passages' behind the rocks - one christened in the pilot the Dog Leg Passage. It would take an iron nerve to take a large sailing yacht through, even though there was reputed to be sufficient water. There was nowhere we could find where we could have a reasonable expectation of shelter from the west, the quarter we expected any weather to come from. In the end we decided on the Baie de Sagone, where our pilot claimed shelter would be adequate. The afternoon turned very murky with occasional thunder showers, but by motoring hard we made it to the Baie just before it became dark. The sheltered north west corner of the bay is now crowded with moorings, most of them occupied by ribs and fishing launches, and one or two larger ones by sailing yachts. There were three yachts already anchored, and we were unable to find any room to anchor inside the moorings, so made do outside them. No sooner had we done so than the heavens opened. We consoled ourselves with a drink, and Mo procured what she called 'comfort food' - a quiche lorraine with a tin of baked beans. We picked up a F7 gale warning for the Bonifacio straits, and hoped for the best.
The night started off ok, but at some point some swell started to come into the bay and we rolled, and as we rolled things rattled and kept Mo awake, although I managed to ignore most of it. We came too as it grew light, and both got up and agreed that whatever the forecast we could not spend a day at anchor under those conditions. We decided to make for Campormoro, on the south side of the Golfe de Valinco, which looked good and the pilot said was a popular anchorage. It was only 24 miles 'as the crow flies' so would not be too bad, especially as we could expect some westerly wind! We set off and made sail, but the first 10 mile leg across the bay was head to a light WSW wind. Once outside the bay, the seas that had been keeping us moving in the bay were running at 2-3 metres, so it was a hard motor sail for the first two hours, and we had to allow some additional offing from the headland because of the seas. The next waypoint was to clear the Isles Sanguinaires, a chain of islands extending from the coast at the northern side of the Golfe d'Ajaccio, and then finally we had to clear Capo di Muro on the south side. We could see Ajaccio on the north side of the bay, way to our port, but as with Calvi it was off our route, meant marinas, and our agenda now is to get back to Cagliari in Sardinia. At each waypoint the wind freed up a bit more, so that in the end we were downwind, still in massive seas. The wind did manage to raise some enthusiasm and get itself up to F4, but too late. The sun seemed to get behind every cloud, and it was quite cold. It proved impossible to maintain steerage way and control of the boat under sail alone, so once again we were forced to run the engine practically the whole time. Campomoro is of course littered with moorings, and what appears to be a fish farm, so it was difficult to find room to anchor amongst the boats already there.
We had been concerned that should the wind change, given the scope of our anchor, we might hit the catamaran on the nearby buoy. Mo delegated me to keep anchor watch. Whether it was this or not, but I was up and down like a yoyo all night, and could not get back off to sleep. I awoke from a dream at nearly nine, so we were late getting started with our morning routine. Mo defrosted the fridge after breakfast, so it was past 1100 hrs when we were ready to roll. The swell from the day before had died down, and while there was a residual swell of about half a metre, the sea was otherwise calm. There was again no wind to speak of, WNW at about F2. We put the sails up in hope, and motored gently along as the target we had set ourselves, the Baie de Figari was not ambitious and more for the shelter it would provide. We tried to fish, but caught nothing, and Mo finished her book. It was particularly nice to see the sun again, although out of it the wind was chilly. We managed to sail for a short while, but once through the hazards at Les Moines we decided to go into Chevanu, a couple of miles short of Figari. I got the watercolours out, while Mo started on another book. I ventured into the water, and seemed a lot colder than the 24C that the log was giving. It looks like an early night again.