Friday 4 November ended at the Seyne on the sea the conveyance from Malta of a J111, Fastwave, who had just taken part in the Middle Sea race, a magnificent race whose route makes the tour of Sicily and its satellite islands. I was in the field of knowledge, for having realized here five years for sails and sailboats the essay and images of the first model sold in France (to be consulted, also, the blog abounding directed by the owner of the toy). This slender 11 m boat is a pure J boat, narrow hull, asymmetrical spi of more than generous dimensions on a long end-out, large wheel bar, conceived as a real racer, it does not make great concessions to comfort. Low freeboard, trendy wet in the sea formed, but a marvel of balance at the helm, a remarkable glide in the small airs, and an ability to let go of the horses as soon as it blows and that one begins to open the sails.
It was a reunion in more ways than one, since the captain with whom I embarked as a second is an accomplice. I had met Patrick Paris during an ISAF survival internship in which I took part in preparation for my first Transquada, before embarking as a team member during a report on and around the island of Tricat 25 of sails and sailboats. Since we never found the opportunity to return to the sea together, even if we exchange very regularly on our projects and our embarkations. We were promised to team up as soon as possible, and now he needed a hand to bring back to his home port Fastwave, which fights most of the classics of the Mediterranean race circuit, and of which he is the appointed conveyor.
Same way of navigating, even approaching the craft, many chemistry atoms and a common vision of many things in life: our 600,000 were unfolding like a charm, and there was also the pleasure of conveying canned with the J133 Jivaro , who also returned for his wintering at the South Spirit site at the Seyne.
A BMS (Special Weather Report) was waiting for us to land in Corsica, this is where we had to make choices, our friends of Jivaro opting for the passage through the archipelago of Maddalena and the mouths of Bonifacio and a stopover in Ajaccio the time of the Gale , while on our side we chose the sheltered waters of the east Coast and a stop at Bastia, looking for a small restaurant that I discovered last August-alas closed in this season-and a friend, owner of a Great Sun 42, which was well in the RE Ndez.
To avoid the breakdown of diesel fuel we had to refuel the next day at Porquerolles, a handful of miles of the goal: 90 minutes of break out of time, for a small coffee and two races at the bakery of the Place d’armes, at a time when the island snorts in waiting for First tourist shuttles of the day. There is like this in conveying magical moments, which remind us that if our trade is made of servitudes, it is also source of small and great pleasures, of which one does not get tired.