“Plan early, plan twice”; from France to Italy

An oft used phrase in military circles.  It’s essential meaning is that no matter how meticulous a plan has been devised, it will change if it’s set too far in advance of implementation.  That’s not to demean planning in itself – it’s vital – but that the plan that is made early invariably needs refinement as other factors emerge later.  And so it was with the passage to Rome. 

The original idea was to depart Canet-en-Roussillon over Easter weekend, and make for Rome.  Ostia, to be precise, the port at the mouth of Rome’s river, the Tiber.  It was to be a boys’ trip, Nick with several friends coming and going over a two-week period, to be in Ostia on 15th April.  Simon was coming for the entire passage, while Andy and his two adult boys were joining for the first five days before flying home from Nice where Mark would join for the rest of the trip.  Flights and transfers were booked.  But the infamous Tramontane wind, so prevalent in SW France, had other ideas.  It blew continuously at gale force for nine days straight, enveloping the yard with dust, sand and other debris that meant antifouling work had to pause.  Plan early, plan twice.  So instead of departing in good order on the 3rd, Skylark eventually slipped her moorings just ahead of sunrise on the 10th April, fittingly exactly a year to the day Simon had ventured out with us on our inaugural passage in Skylark from Port Leucate to Valencia. 

The marina in Ostia had been booked from 15th to 21st and Abbey and friend Claire had booked flights to Rome on the 16th.  All changeable, but it would be nice to regain schedule and be waiting, Skylark ship-shape, cocktail in hand and all smiles, for the girls’ arrival.  We had six days to get to Ostia, some 470nm distant.  Rather than a leisurely agenda taking in the anchorages of the French Riviera en-route and maybe, just maybe, sampling a couple of the local brews and wines in convenient shore-side taverns, we had to get going and put the miles under the hulls.  Sadly, Andy and his two boys couldn’t extend so in the end missed out on the adventure.  Simon and Mark shifted flights and airports, and joined just prior to sailing from Canet and remained for the duration to Rome.  Thank you – it would have been a tad emotional without your flexibility and help!

If you have a knowledge of superstitions, some seafarers deem it bad luck to depart for a voyage on a Friday.  But, circumstance being what it is, Skylark eased herself into the Golfe du Lion, a notoriously changeable and windswept area of the Mediterranean, on a sunny, calm Friday morning.  The wind soon filled in from the north and we were making steady progress towards our first destination, La Ciotat, some 140 nm away.  We had planned a long day, aiming to be there just after midnight to drop the pick at La Madrague, an anchorage I knew well and was perfectly content to approach in the dark.  The wind died around 2300, and we motored the last few miles to arrive almost on ETA at 0145. 

The next day brought headwinds, so we stayed in La Ciotat bay and ensured Mark got his moules frites for lunch, taking an early night before another dawn departure on the Sunday.  The plan was to make for the south of Corsica, riding an encouraging Force 4 north easterly wind between two competing systems all the way down the Corsican coast. The wind turned out fine, but the sea was a menacing, horrible, confused, lumpy mess that pitched Skylark and the poor souls aboard as if in a giant washing machine with a broken drum bearing.  Skylark handled herself with considerably more grace than we three, taking the knocks splendidly while pressing on at a respectable eight knots.  It was a long night, but dawn brought a slight reduction in the sea state as we eased into the Bonifacio straight, a narrow channel known for strong winds.  In fact it was serene, and we motored for several hours in flat calm but frequent rain.  It felt positively pleasurable after the previous night and Skylark had a fresh water wash into the bargain.

We anchored in the late afternoon in Sant’Manza, a long, narrow inlet on the south east side of Corsica, and had one of the quietest nights I’ve ever had at anchor.  It was a welcome respite.  We had covered the miles, and were now within 120nm of Ostia with two days in hand.  The forecast was for light northerlies the following day and overnight, so I decided to depart Corsica in the afternoon and sail overnight to Ostia.  This was a thoroughly agreeable sail, albeit with winds that defied all the forecasts and blew from just about every direction at varying strengths.  With only occasional ferry lights as distant company, we slid peacefully across the inky Tyrrhenian sea under mainsail and asymmetric spinnaker where winds allowed. 

Off-watch moments….

The overcast, rain-laden skies of Ostia in no way dampened our spirits as we secured Skylark in her berth in the northern arm of the vast Ostia Porto Turistico marina, tired and spent but with a sense of achievement in completing a proper passage in some challenging conditions.  My enormous thanks to Mark and Simon for helping me; it would not have been possible without you. Mark made his flight home, Simon and I squared Skylark away and recce’d the marina and town.  Well, we found a couple of beach bars, anyway, but did have the presence of mind to check out train options to Rome too.  Feeling rather pleased with ourselves, we met Abbey and Claire (Simon’s wife, no less), as planned with smiles and cocktails.  All was good and we were back on track.

Easing out of Canet-en-Roussillon into a glittering dawn

A gentle start to the passage

The French courtesy flag had done valiant service and was retired as we crossed into Italian waters.

A tired flyer looking for overnight accommodation off Corsica