A (Not So Great) Day in Life Aboard

Milly is a tiny dot, among many in Rade de Villefranche where are not so great day began.

Our daily life aboard Milly is usually full; exploring new places and some recreation combined with a boat task or two, the usual mundane household task and/or researching the next destination to make us feel like we have accomplished something.  Although the last 24 hours have had each of the above, the day contained some additional not so pleasant parts.  

Lately we have been plagued with some motor issues.  Being a catamaran we have two motors - catamaran owners feel quite smug that we have a back up motor in case one breaks down, unlike poor monohull owners.  All sailors like to have back ups on board, filling the boat with parts and tools to fix the parts.  Each of our engines has a problem - so much for back ups.  Our port engine had a coolant leak and ran hot a couple of times.  Peter changed the coolant on both engines and tightened the taps/“nipples”.  One leak persisted, even after burping air bubbles out of the system.  Peter tightened the plastic tap, reluctantly and gently for fear of breaking it, while we searched every town for a new one, finally finding a very friendly boatyard guy in Elba who got us two - one for a back up.  We also noticed that our starboard engine was eating oil.  Our routine for leaving an anchorage for the last week or so has, therefore, included fastidiously checking oil levels and coolant levels on both engines.  

We were anchored in Rade de Villefranche, off Villefrance Sur Mer, a gorgeous bay on the French Riviera between Nice and Monaco.  The village sits at the end of the deep bay complete with citadel.  Although, the slopes of the steep sides are dotted with villas they are tasteful and with enough property that there are trees, woods and gardens- Rothschilds, Rolling Stones and David Niven’s among them.  The water is exceptionally clear and although the bottom is covered with thick weed we had found a small patch of sand into which our anchor was embedded exactly in the middle.  We felt confident enough that Milly would stay put that we spent a day at Rothschild’s, another biking to Nice and a third taking the bus to Monaco while we waited out a very persistent mistral blowing fiercely through the Gulf of Lyons and the Gulf of Genoa creating increasing and confused seas.  We had swell but very little else making it tough to believe that the seas were so ghastly not far offshore.

On the morning of September 9, we thought it was time to move on.  The forecast was for little wind during the day close to the coast but a strong easterly wind with all day rain and thunderstorms, beginning in 24 hours and requiring an anchorage protected from the east.  The mistral continued to rage offshore.

Now for the blow by blow of our day:

Peter checked the oil on starboard engine.  A little low.  Found oil on the oil pressure sensor.  This was a part of the engine, not yet learned by necessity because of breakdown.  (Peter is gradually becoming an expert as different systems within the motor have problems.  Even I know much more about diesel engines than I ever wanted to.)  He was uncertain of how to fix this or what exactly the problem was.

Check coolant level on port engine.  Low.  Definite yellow tinge to liquid in the bilge.  Coolant at one of the taps.  On drying it off, it broke off in Peter’s hand (Glad it wasn’t mine).  Shit!  This meant half of the tap was still screwed into the coolant pipe with no way of turning it to get it out.  And it was leaking slowly!

Quick look on internet.  Antibes, just 14 NM away, had a Volvo Penta service provider and shop and a huge marina with a load of services.  I anticipated getting our motors fixed and a few more of our TransAtlantic jobs done, a thorough provisioning of French delicacies, boat cleanse, body cleanse in fresh water, laundry etc. etc.  Phone did not connect to marina reservation line.  Emailed requesting a berth.

Went forward to raise the anchor.  We had recently rebuilt our windlass.  The chain stripper had torn out of the base, stripping the screws.  Again, we had searched multiple ports to get a new part.  Not until we were three weeks in Rome did we stick around in one port long enough to have the part sent.  Rebuilding the windlass for the first time took a few days, not a few hours as anticipated, and now we both know much more about the working of windlasses.  Anyway, today, I noticed that the chain was sticking and getting caught under the stripper more often.  I felt the stripper and noticed that it was loose again.  Motion to Peter at the helm who took apart some of the pieces to get at the screws to tighten said chain stripper.

Motored a couple of hours in lovely weather past Nice to Antibes.  Radioed marina.  Marinero reported that he didn’t think there was room for us.  Gave us a phone number.  Called number - not in service.

Anchored in area near town that would be ok until strong east wind arrived.  Couldn’t see bottom so uncertain if weed or sand but anchor held.  We were about 200 meters off a rocky shore.

Just one of the super yachts that kept us company at Antibes.  Big enough to have it's own cruising keel boat on deck!  We prefer that to helicopters...but it probably had that, too.

Long dinghy ride to enormous marina with many super yachts.  Welcomed kindly but no room for at least four days for a catamaran.  Must have seen disappointment in eyes because asked us to call early in a.m. and they’d see what they could do.

Went to Volvo Penta shop.  Found spare parts minus one.  Service technician not available for one week! No point in staying in Antibes any longer.  We needed to find a dealer/service provider.  Very apologetic staff.  Directed us to next shop for another part.

Walked few blocks around marina and found multiple chandleries and helpful people.  Very exciting.  Purchased some parts on TransAtlantic list.  Crossed off list.  Felt good.

Had lunch (by this time it was 5:00 p.m.) outside at bistro.  Good natured staff, smiling at our indecision.   

Discussed approach to engines.  Peter felt he might be able to YouTube etc to learn how to fix oil leak without damaging anything.  Also, felt he could get broken tap out of the pipe.  Ok.  We would stay anchored where we were and leave before forecasted high wind at 9 a.m.

Peter investigated a fix.  Nothing on YouTube but after studying diagrams he thinks he can do it.  Tightened oil sensor a tiny bit.  Put screw inside broken tap for coolant - no more leaking, but screw is definitely a jury rig.  Doesn't feel good, doesn't look good.

I investigated other marinas near by with Volvo Penta service.  Emailed three.

Calm night.  Only five super yachts in anchorage with us.  

At about 3 a.m. woken by waves on the beam, meaning we were rocking back and forth.  Waves in the Mediterranean are almost always short and steep - very rarely big, gentle ocean swells with long period.  This means that the rock in bed is vigorous and jerky making sleep restless, to say the least.  Along with the rock came some knocks and thuds with intermittent squeaks which got louder and louder.  Peter got up to investigate - the boom was not tight enough. Preventer put on, main sheet and topping lift tightened.  Thudding noise lessened but groan began as preventer tightened on cleat.  We had left fenders on deck attached to lifelines where they had been prepared for marina and left in anticipation of moving to marina next day.  More noise with occasional big bangs.  I got up to investigate.  Fenders rolling and one had rolled off and was banging on the freeboard.  Rearranged fenders. A wood panel on our salon floor has also developed a creak in the past while.  Walking on it or movement like waves on the beam makes it creak - fixing it is one of the jobs to be done before crossing the ocean as it is a noise that can get in your head and make you crazy.  The creak was madly making music.  Return to bed.  Noises seemed to ramp up.  I get the giggles.  

By this time it was 5:30 or so.  I couldn’t sleep.  Got up to wait for dawn.  Red sky in the morning! Oh, oh!  Lightning to the west.  Wind changed to east so we swung toward rock quay.  I told Peter that we should go.  I prepared boat.  Put all electronics in oven/Faraday cage.

Antibes anchorage, Cannes? in the distance.  Foul weather approaching.

Waves mounting.  I told Peter again that we should go, no joke!  He was still snoozing.  

Raised anchor with only a little difficulty in high wind and big waves.  Chain stripper working well.

Motored around point with several super yachts, all trying to find shelter.  Took large waves on beam - slight seasickness.  Forked lightning to west, south and east.

Entered bay of refuge where large number of boats anchored.  Found great spot in high wind but all-important flat water.  Anchored in weed? or sand? but with good holding.  Peter went back to bed.  Downpour, lightning.  Filled all water containers, cleaned.

Rainy day.  Hopefully some boat work to do.  A little reading, internet investigation, maybe some yoga.  Engines still limping but not crippled.  Plan in place.  A service provider only a short sail away had responded.  We’re back on track.  

Good tour of Antibes chandleries but old town left unexplored.

September 9th-10th, 2019

Villefranche-Sur-Mer to Antibes to refuge at Port du Crouton

The French Riviera

We biked, bused, hiked, kayaked, sailed, dinghied and climbed a lot of stairs from Monaco to Hyeres.  

We had not anticipated cruising the Mediterranean coast of France when we arrived two and a half years ago but so many people had sung it's praises that we decided to pay it a visit.  We were not disappointed.  It is a sensational coastline with jagged cliffs and mountainous backdrop dotted with medieval and modern human development almost always elegant and tasteful.  It's fame and glory as a wintering hole for the rich and famous is well-deserved.

We jumped from Portofino, Italy across the Gulfo de Genoa to Imperia, Italy in a one-day sail, skipping Genoa and a few other points of interest along the way.  It was September and our cruising guide warns of increasing risk of gale force winds in the autumn funnelling through northern Italian mountains with confused and "swirling" seas.  We (I) had grown shy and hesitant to trust the local forecast after two years in the Mediterranean and preferred to scoot rather than linger.  And because of the violent reputation of the winds in the Golfe du Lion at the west end of the French coast, we limited our cruise to the Riviera and the Cote d'Azur.  Short but very, very sweet.

We hugged the coast on our way to safe anchorage in Villefranche so we could get a close up of Monaco, the "toy-town New York", as we cruised by. The Monte Carlo casino is the green domed building just left of centre. 

The sophisticated Oceanographic Institute, established by Prince Albert I, an avid oceanographer, in the early 20th century.  He used the profits made by the casino to fund his research. The old red-roofed city is behind it, complete with modest palace.

The Kings pretty boat was moored outside the harbour.

We anchored with numerous other boats in Rade de Villefranche, a fantastic almost entirely protected bay with the village of Villefranche at it's head.  Because the successful have made the coast a refuge, the towns have benefitted from their talents.  This small fisherman's chapel, St. Peter's, in Villefranche was redecorated inside and out by Jean Cocteau.  

The citadel houses the municipal buildings, walks through lovely, well-kept gardens with views over the bay.

Not much to see except the formidable gates of this villa, reportedly owned by the Rolling Stones on Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat, the green and shaded peninsula on one side of the bay and a fine neighbourhood of elegant villas and gardens.

Milly, hanging in the almost perfect bay surrounded by yachts big and small, looking toward Villefranche, the buildings of which line the cliff up to the Grand Corniche.

Built by Beatrice de Rothschild during the "Belle Epoque", this villa, now museum, was elegant and beautifully maintained in sharp contrast to the sadly neglected and struggling smaller museums we saw in Italy.

The front hall where she greeted her lucky guests.  It has seen many a party.

Beatrice was a collector of tapestries, porcelain, paintings and furniture, all kept in pristine condition.

Her day room.  Not a place where you can put your feet up, let your hair down or slouch - unless you've been living like this all your life, I guess.

Every 20 minutes fountains spurted and fell in time to classical music or, strangely, the Space Odyssey!

Meandering wooded paths connected nine different gardens with columns, waterfalls, ponds, flowerbeds and rare species of trees and plants.  

Nearing the peak of the peninsula by bike, looking back on the bay with Villefranche to the left and Cap Ferrat across.  We were headed to Nice.

Nice was only a short bike ride up and over the peninsula.  A World Championship Iron Man event happened to be going on when we arrived at the beach.  The famous Promenade des Anglais was cut off with tortured runners and bikers extraordinaire.

Yum!  French cheese...

assorted picturesque pates,

and flowers gave the open air market on Cours Saleya huge appeal.  Food always looks like art in France.

Nice, "the queen of the Riviera".

Then we took the bus the short ride east to Monaco.  The entrance foyer of Monte Carlo casino was open to the public in the a.m.  We had to take a look.  The rest was inaccessible to plebs unless you paid through the nose and dressed up.  We didn't do either. 

Rather nice yachts in Monaco. Keeping up with the Jones is, I'm sure, a full-time occupation.

The humble and beige "pink palace" and home of the royalty.

The downtown Monaco side of the old city....

An autonomous, electric shuttle bus, free for those in need was not working on Sunday when we were there but even at rest it was inspiringly innovative and high tech.

The seemingly more exclusive, if that's possible, newer marina on the other side of the old city

And then on to Cannes, which we weren't too impressed with not being high end shoppers.  The port was monopolized by a boat show.  Milly was the smallest yacht by a long shot in the anchorage where many of the yachts were for sale, hosting parties of potential buyers.  We weren't invited.  

The promenade de la Crosisette lined with blue chairs and backed by hotels, both elegant and not, seemed iconic.  The biggest problem for us in Cannes was finding a spot among the glitter of the boat show and fussiness of the beach patrons to put TomTom.  We were waved away from all possibilites until we finally hauled it up on a beach, discretely off to the side of a hotel and in the rubble of landfill, we thought.  When we returned after a couple of hours, TomTom had been moved, and filled with clothing and picnic detritus.  Two couples on the beach chastised us for leaving him there.  We couldn't understand but their tone and dismissive gestures were enough to make the message clear.  We rescued TomTom and meekly drove back to Milly.

The red volcanic Esterel massif west of Cannes was beautiful against the blue sky and sea.

Our "dinghy dock" at St. Tropez.  We were not welcome at the real docks, a problem we have encountered at many places in the Med adding a challenging dimension to anchoring out.  TomTom was anchored to keep him off the rocks and behaved very well while we explored the high end town of St. Tropez.  A small beer cost the hefty price of 18 euros ($27CDN).  We found one just off the quay for the great deal of 15 euros.

The view from Milly of the villas hidden in the soft umbrellas of the aleppo pines.

And there's the captain enjoying a beer and a book during that honey coloured hour before sunset.  

We loved the expensive, exclusive French coast!  It is another area where we thought we could settle once land beckons.  We always consider this as we cruise from port to port.  Only Mallorca and Villefranche have appealed so far.  We'd have to go back to work to manage either so maybe in our next lives.  For now we're happy to have cruised it in our current mobile home.

September 3-13, 2019.

Portofino

Another Portofino (Mediterranean countries seem to name several towns by the same name which can make life confusing), and this one definitely deserves the "fine port" description.  We (Peter) unfolded our bikes and we set off on the narrow, tree lined two lane highway that hugs the rocky, indented coast between Santa Margherita and Portofino.  The famous bay, favoured by many a movie mogul including Rex Harrison who owned a villa somewhere in the surrounding hills, has room for very few boats and is monopolized by super yachts.  We parked our bikes and enjoyed the day strolling the streets and hills of the tiny exclusive town.

This northern Portofino, is more sophisticated and exclusive than the other Portofino on the Amalfi Coast.

This capitano was waiting for a client in his elegant taxi.  Didn't seem too rattled by a lack of customers.

The Castello Brown renovated by it's namesake in the 19th century was the family home until the 1960's.  It is now a great viewpoint.

The village was surrounded by spectacular villas in sensational greenery.

Just a tiny village nestled in a perfect bay with lush green hills as background.  Easy to see why the rich and famous like to frequent the place.

The next morning we hugged the coast on Milly to get a sea view of the villas we had passed by bike when only the walls and rooftops had tantalized.

The lighthouse at the tip of the peninsula - also pretty sweet.

Pretty darn nice!  I'd like to go back and maybe live in the yellow villa half way up the hillside on the right.  Or maybe the pink one at the top on the far right.  Or perhaps...

September 2 & 3, 2019