What a fabulous little cheeky weekend away that was. Debrah flew down to La Rochelle on Friday and I drove up there from here in Carcassonne. We stayed with the lovely Anna and Aib and family at their summer house rental on the Ile d'Oleron and the equally lovely Tim and Sam had his yacht moored in the harbour.
It was cheeky because it was all sort of last minute and I had guests arriving here so had to make other arrangements for them and it was exciting because I hadn't expected to see Debrah for another week.
Best friends, beautiful location, lovely weather, sailing, beaches, barbeques, and Debrah - it doesn't really get any better.
We didn't arrive until 8ish on Friday night after the 300 odd mile drive, collecting Debrah from the airport at La Rochelle and then queuing with everyone else to get across the viaduct onto the island - but our hosts had dinner on the go and a glass of wine to hand so we soon relaxed into a rather long drunken evening barbeque.
All of which didn't really prepare us for the early start needed to get the yacht out of the harbour on the tide at 9am the following morning - but we all made it down to the harbour in time and bought lunch on the way. To be honest a few of the band were a little dubious about spending all day out on the yacht - we couldn't get back into harbour until after 5pm on the next tide - such is the way of the sea it appears.
It turned out to be a wonderful day out - the weather got better as the day went on and a couple of stomach settling/hair of the dog cold beers at 11am cheered everyone up. When we anchored we swam in the Atlantic (can't remember the last time I did that) and then had a fabulous buffet lunch and swung the kids out over the side on the bosun's chair before heading back to port across the bay.
Today we sat on the beach at St Denis while the kids played/moaned about being bored, before having a beachside lunch at the cafe. It all reminded me so much of many beach holidays when I was young boy many many years ago - in North Wales and Devon and my first ever overseas trip to Portugal when I was about 10 years old.
Sadly I had to leave the party this afternoon and return here. Debrah is staying on for one more night before going back to London and happily we will see each other again next weekend after a busy week for us both.
Fabulous weekend though with top chums - and just a few weeks until I see them all again for my 50th birthday in August here in Carcassonne - excellent.
Showing posts with label sailing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sailing. Show all posts
Sunday, 26 July 2009
Friday, 5 October 2007
Gulet Trip
Thursday 4th October
Well, wouldn’t you know. The day of our gulet boat trip is the day the weather decides to take a break from it’s routine. It is the day of the storms.
Not that the day was entirely a washout – we still went on our boat trip and we had some sunshine but we also had a bit of trauma and a bit of excitement that wasn’t part of the planned activity for the day.
At first light it looked promising but there was soon a bit of thunder rumbling about and a big black cloud came over the mountain behind us and dumped its contents. By the time we went down to breakfast, which had to be taken in the undercover Nar restaurant, the paths were sodden and covered in small puddles but the rain had stopped.
During breakfast they set up a small griddle and dough board outside on the floor and two of the hotel staff set about making small folded spicy potato pancakes – exactly the sort of activity they should have done the previous evening for the Turkish evening. It was fascinating to watch their skill as they rolled, filled and cooked the pancakes – they were still so hot from the griddle that a lot of blowing on them and passing from hand to hand was required in their consumption. Delicious they were too.
It was still a bit overcast and threatening as we set off from the jetty and moody clouds were spilling over the tops of the mountains giving the scene an equatorial feel – “looks like Ecuador”, said Debrah.
On this first leg of our journey, with cloud still overhead and a good breeze blowing, it was still a little cool. When one of the other guests was brought a blanket after jokingly pretending to be cold, Debrah threw a (partially) pretend strop and sulk, which was spotted by the captain and rewarded with a blanket of her very own. You would be hard pressed to find a happier and more content woman than Debrah at that moment.
Our first stop was Goat Island and one of the crew was first in the water to encourage the rest, who were a little sceptical about the temperature. I followed next. Nothing to worry about – it actually felt warmer than the hotel pool, as the sea does at the Beach Club too. It was also incredibly clear – Debrah remarked that how easy it was to see me under the water when I had dived in off the side of the boat.
As we carried on up the coast, passing across the Bay of Marmaris, a sudden rain shower swept across and had everyone scrambling to the stern under cover, but by the time we reached our lunch stop in Paradise Cove, the sun was at last peeking through the clouds and the temperature began to rise. The hillside around the cove was covered in lush vegetation and the overnight and morning rain seemed to have lifted all the colours, bringing out the contrasts between the greens and browns that had been hardly noticeable before.
We were given an excellent lunch of meze, naturally, followed by a white fish stew with rice and green salad. It was a shame the company wasn’t as good as the food – Debrah and I were soon having to defend London against a group of so called country locals moaning about how Londoners had ruined their communities, as they all sat there on their second holiday of the year, clearly not struggling to feed or clothe themselves – what a bunch of hypocrites.
Having avoided a fight, we all relaxed into a post lunch slumber on the deck as the motor was turned off and the sails raised. We spent a peaceful hour listening to the creaking of the ropes and the flapping of canvas – not going anywhere very fast, there being very little wind at this point of the afternoon.
By the time we all stirred again, we were pulling into the cove where we would make our final stop of the day and where our troubles would begin. A swim and some tea and cake and, uh-oh, a broken throttle cable. There was much shouting and arm-waving and running about the boat looking for tools, dropping the anchor again and then a bit of head-scratching. A couple of the Brits couldn’t help going to offer their opinion. After twenty minutes or so, a temporary fix was effected that would hopefully get us back to harbour, but it meant forward and reverse could only be used by manually jumping into the hold to change the cable over on the levers. The skies were already darkening, the first rumbles of thunder could be heard and lightning was zagging down to the sea in the distance.
The storm chased us all the way into Kumlumbuk Bay and was clearly travelling faster than we were and coming at us from two sides. Halfway between the headland and the jetty it hit, a massive squall blew the boat sideways and everyone and everything with it. We all grabbed our belongings and made our way to the cover of the stern whilst the crew battened everything down.
As we neared the jetty we could see the local coastguard in their inflatable issuing instructions to all boats (we later found out that they were ordering all boats into marinas and harbours for safety reasons). Without full throttle control and the wind now battering us, it was always going to be a difficult docking. The first attempt failed as the anchor was dropped, cautiously, too far out and the wind took us past the jetty before we could get a rope over to one of the many hands waiting to help. There was more shouting and arm-waving – they knew what they were doing – they just deal with these situations in a different way – but it didn’t do anything for Debrah who was becoming a bit scared and very nervous.
They raised and then dropped the anchor once more as the rain started to fall. As we backed nearer the jetty one crew member had to jump into the hold to switch from reverse to forward whilst the other secured the anchor at the bow and ran to the stern to throw the rope – it missed – but one of the shore crew leapt from the jetty into the water to retrieve it and, after being hauled up back onto the jetty, secure it. He then leapt onto the gangplank as he realised another pair of hands was needed on board – what a hero (we later found out that his name was Attila!). The extra pair of hands meant one man could stay in the hold for throttle control and two men could handle the ropes on both port and starboard at the stern and very quickly they now got us docked, well, sort of.
The rain was by now lashing down, lightning flashed all around, thunder boomed overhead and the boat was thrashing about on its ropes. Happily, everyone made it across the very slippery and wobbly gangplank to the jetty without accident and up into the safety of the minibus. As soon as everyone was off, they released the ropes from the jetty to let the gulet ride the storm more easily.
When we finally got back to the room, the view of the bay was entirely obliterated by the clouds and rain. The storm went on for another few hours and the lightning spectacle from the safety of dry land was incredibly impressive.
All in all, quite an eventful and exciting trip – can’t wait to do it again, but I’m not sure Debrah is so enthusiastic.
GUEST BLOGSPOT
candidate no 7: The Fat Couple
Both young, gifted and fat, this couple from Manchester swim 80 lengths each morning, followed up by a couple of Marlboro and an enormous breakfast.
verdict: WHEAT - they are both completely charming
Well, wouldn’t you know. The day of our gulet boat trip is the day the weather decides to take a break from it’s routine. It is the day of the storms.
Not that the day was entirely a washout – we still went on our boat trip and we had some sunshine but we also had a bit of trauma and a bit of excitement that wasn’t part of the planned activity for the day.
At first light it looked promising but there was soon a bit of thunder rumbling about and a big black cloud came over the mountain behind us and dumped its contents. By the time we went down to breakfast, which had to be taken in the undercover Nar restaurant, the paths were sodden and covered in small puddles but the rain had stopped.
During breakfast they set up a small griddle and dough board outside on the floor and two of the hotel staff set about making small folded spicy potato pancakes – exactly the sort of activity they should have done the previous evening for the Turkish evening. It was fascinating to watch their skill as they rolled, filled and cooked the pancakes – they were still so hot from the griddle that a lot of blowing on them and passing from hand to hand was required in their consumption. Delicious they were too.
It was still a bit overcast and threatening as we set off from the jetty and moody clouds were spilling over the tops of the mountains giving the scene an equatorial feel – “looks like Ecuador”, said Debrah.
On this first leg of our journey, with cloud still overhead and a good breeze blowing, it was still a little cool. When one of the other guests was brought a blanket after jokingly pretending to be cold, Debrah threw a (partially) pretend strop and sulk, which was spotted by the captain and rewarded with a blanket of her very own. You would be hard pressed to find a happier and more content woman than Debrah at that moment.
Our first stop was Goat Island and one of the crew was first in the water to encourage the rest, who were a little sceptical about the temperature. I followed next. Nothing to worry about – it actually felt warmer than the hotel pool, as the sea does at the Beach Club too. It was also incredibly clear – Debrah remarked that how easy it was to see me under the water when I had dived in off the side of the boat.
As we carried on up the coast, passing across the Bay of Marmaris, a sudden rain shower swept across and had everyone scrambling to the stern under cover, but by the time we reached our lunch stop in Paradise Cove, the sun was at last peeking through the clouds and the temperature began to rise. The hillside around the cove was covered in lush vegetation and the overnight and morning rain seemed to have lifted all the colours, bringing out the contrasts between the greens and browns that had been hardly noticeable before.
We were given an excellent lunch of meze, naturally, followed by a white fish stew with rice and green salad. It was a shame the company wasn’t as good as the food – Debrah and I were soon having to defend London against a group of so called country locals moaning about how Londoners had ruined their communities, as they all sat there on their second holiday of the year, clearly not struggling to feed or clothe themselves – what a bunch of hypocrites.
Having avoided a fight, we all relaxed into a post lunch slumber on the deck as the motor was turned off and the sails raised. We spent a peaceful hour listening to the creaking of the ropes and the flapping of canvas – not going anywhere very fast, there being very little wind at this point of the afternoon.
By the time we all stirred again, we were pulling into the cove where we would make our final stop of the day and where our troubles would begin. A swim and some tea and cake and, uh-oh, a broken throttle cable. There was much shouting and arm-waving and running about the boat looking for tools, dropping the anchor again and then a bit of head-scratching. A couple of the Brits couldn’t help going to offer their opinion. After twenty minutes or so, a temporary fix was effected that would hopefully get us back to harbour, but it meant forward and reverse could only be used by manually jumping into the hold to change the cable over on the levers. The skies were already darkening, the first rumbles of thunder could be heard and lightning was zagging down to the sea in the distance.
The storm chased us all the way into Kumlumbuk Bay and was clearly travelling faster than we were and coming at us from two sides. Halfway between the headland and the jetty it hit, a massive squall blew the boat sideways and everyone and everything with it. We all grabbed our belongings and made our way to the cover of the stern whilst the crew battened everything down.
As we neared the jetty we could see the local coastguard in their inflatable issuing instructions to all boats (we later found out that they were ordering all boats into marinas and harbours for safety reasons). Without full throttle control and the wind now battering us, it was always going to be a difficult docking. The first attempt failed as the anchor was dropped, cautiously, too far out and the wind took us past the jetty before we could get a rope over to one of the many hands waiting to help. There was more shouting and arm-waving – they knew what they were doing – they just deal with these situations in a different way – but it didn’t do anything for Debrah who was becoming a bit scared and very nervous.
They raised and then dropped the anchor once more as the rain started to fall. As we backed nearer the jetty one crew member had to jump into the hold to switch from reverse to forward whilst the other secured the anchor at the bow and ran to the stern to throw the rope – it missed – but one of the shore crew leapt from the jetty into the water to retrieve it and, after being hauled up back onto the jetty, secure it. He then leapt onto the gangplank as he realised another pair of hands was needed on board – what a hero (we later found out that his name was Attila!). The extra pair of hands meant one man could stay in the hold for throttle control and two men could handle the ropes on both port and starboard at the stern and very quickly they now got us docked, well, sort of.
The rain was by now lashing down, lightning flashed all around, thunder boomed overhead and the boat was thrashing about on its ropes. Happily, everyone made it across the very slippery and wobbly gangplank to the jetty without accident and up into the safety of the minibus. As soon as everyone was off, they released the ropes from the jetty to let the gulet ride the storm more easily.
When we finally got back to the room, the view of the bay was entirely obliterated by the clouds and rain. The storm went on for another few hours and the lightning spectacle from the safety of dry land was incredibly impressive.
All in all, quite an eventful and exciting trip – can’t wait to do it again, but I’m not sure Debrah is so enthusiastic.
GUEST BLOGSPOT
candidate no 7: The Fat Couple
Both young, gifted and fat, this couple from Manchester swim 80 lengths each morning, followed up by a couple of Marlboro and an enormous breakfast.
verdict: WHEAT - they are both completely charming
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