During this spring voyage, the idea was to accompany a couple of British owners who had just bought a Sun Odyssey 45 DS (for Deck Saloon) in the Loire-Atlantique and wanted to repatriate him to the south coast of England. From the dry port “The gates of the Atlantic”, located in Frossay sur la Loire (upstream of Saint-Nazaire) until the port afloat of Chichester (a handful of miles east of Portsmouth), it is a very technical navigation that awaited us, between currents and passages to Level, near-permanent proximity of obstacles and dangers, and intense maritime traffic-be it the fishing fleets near the Breton coasts as well as the crossing of the rail of the freighters in the sleeve, in the extension of the DST of the helmets.
If the reinforcement of two friends of the owners allowed to organize a very comfortable rotation for the crew of three watches (two hours of standby for four hours of rest), I had to seriously limit the sleep times. It is in these circumstances that we appreciate the comfort of a wide hood covering the descent and the front of the cockpit…
The case was rounded, with a very short stopover in Loctudy, the time to pass the strongest of an east stroke and to adjust the time of passage of the tsunami. The most delicate, paradoxically enough, was the landing in England, the nocturnal drizzle reducing to fifteen or twenty meters the visibility in the sinuous and narrow arm of the sea leading to the lock of Chichester. This ended engine at idle, in the glow of the frontal, seeking our way in the midst of bulky moorings these more countryside than maritime.
The episode was once more an opportunity to check that to navigate the nose on electronic mapping it would be quick to finish in the mud: it is not that the GPS is imprecise-at the time of the differential GPS the position it provides is reliable at five meters prè S-it is that the map itself-on which nothing tells us at what time and with which method were made the readings-is not necessarily totally connected with the landscape. Channels, it moves with the years, and old surveys (lead surveys, spaced by nature, with positioning on markers on the ground to the optic bezel), it leaves a large part of Blur and vagueness.
With patience and precautions we arrived at sunrise in a remarkably well-kept Marina, whose pub serves Homeric breakfasts, whose sanitary facilities are worthy of a palace (when one dreams for three days of a burning shower, it counts ), which the train connects to London in no time, and which bathes in a peaceful atmosphere totally out of time. It may be located a few steps away from the Solent, which I think I have travelled pretty much under all seams, I did not know anything about the place, which deserves a visit in many respects. A real discovery, and an address to keep in mind.