It Shouldn’t Happen To a Sailor (5)
Sailing, Mooring and Making a Big Splash At Plouer Sur Rance
It’s Friday evening and I
have made a pact with myself. This weekend, hell or high water, I will consider
all the options, wood, steel, GRP, gunter, gaff or lugger, sloop or ketch, fin
keel or dagger board, inboard or outboard – AND I’ll compile a list of boats
which seem to fit my criteria. Next week I’ll start a serious search for the ‘low
cost cruiser’.
In the meantime, here is another true tale of misadventure – it really shouldn’t happen to a sailor!
The beautiful French port of
St Malo, city of corsairs, lies at the seaward end of the estuary of the River
Rance. For cruising folk visiting France, St Malo is the gateway to the
beautiful Rance estuary, wide peaceful waters, set in a shallow picturesque
valley of beautiful countryside and tiny granite settlements.
Towards the head of the
estuary lies the village of Plouer Sur Rance with its tiny yacht harbour,
created in the pool of a long-dormant tidal mill. The majority of berths in the
marina are taken up by locals but to encourage tourists and to generate income
for the local shops and restaurants, the village council reserves ten berths
for visitors.
There are two things to know
about Plouer Marina. Firstly, it has a wall to retain water within the basin at
low tide. At high tide the wall is submerged. This presents no problem, it is
well marked, but it does mean that at high tide there is a current of water
running through the harbour over the wall. At low tide the wall ensures there
is no real current at all.
Secondly, visitor boats are
moored in pairs either side of very narrow floating finger pontoons which are
perfectly fine most of the time when boats are moored alongside them. Take away
the boats however, and stepping out on one of these narrow wobbly fingers is
not dissimilar to tightrope walking. Stability comes not from the pontoon, but
from the support provided to it by the buoyancy and stability of the boats tied
alongside. Locals know this, visitors often discover the hard way.
The way Charles’ learned
about the pontoon was particularly spectacular. He arrived aboard a friend’s
motor cruisers at about six o’ clock one Friday evening, a time which the
French often refer to as ‘The Blue Hour’, that particularly pleasant time after
work on a Friday when you have the whole weekend before you; the time when you
meet up with friends over a glass of Pernod or perhaps a Kir before heading for
home.
At Plouer, ‘La Guitoon’, a
waterside bar run by an old salt called Joe, is a particular favourite
location. Most of the locals are boatmen, and from here you get a full view of
the comings and goings within the harbour.
Charles and his skipper
entered Plouer harbour at the top of the tide and were aware of the significant
group of locals all of whom turned to see the English boat arrive.
‘The visitor berths are over there’, the skipper called
to Charles. ‘Get up forward and be ready to jump off with the mooring line when
I give the signal. We’ll show these guys how it should be done.’
Charles dutifully went
forward and stood holding the pulpit with one hand and the rope in the other as
the skipper casually turned the boat toward a gap in the pontoons. As he
approached however, the boat speed increased due to the current of water
passing across the submerged wall. The skipper reduced throttle but the vessel
only seemed to accelerate. Finally, at the last minute, in a desperate attempt
to avoid ploughing through the pontoons, he threw both engines into reverse. In
so doing, he also threw Charles off the boat.
Fortunately for Charles, he
managed to land upright on the pontoon. Unfortunately for Charles, the pontoon
immediately sank under his weight and then resurfaced like a springboard - catapulting
Charles headlong into the water.
Of such incidents, legends
are made. They’re still talking about this in Joes bar and Charles hasn’t
returned. ‘Shame really, there’s a few guys who’d like to buy him a drink and
shake his hand. You don’t get free entertainment like that every day.
Seaward
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