Resquilhada

The darse at Villefranche


The San Giuseppe about to be robbed of wind


The paella, before the mussels, rice and rabbit

This weekend I swapped the lifeboat for pointus and headed for Villefranche, which was hosting a traditional boat festival. The boat trip there, along the coast, on the good ships Caribe and Virginie, was magic, with Omo-bright white horses flecking an intensely blue sea, and the sunshine picking out all the details of the coast. What was even nicer was to be sharing this with friends, including English newcomers Paul and Lisa, delightful company and good fun, who joined us via the lifeboat funding campaign.

In Villefranche, the welcome was as warm as the sunshine. The lateen sails billowed in the sea breeze (except when the wind was obstructed by giant cruise ships), the rosé flowed in welcome draughts, and the socca, porchetta and paëlla (cooked in front of us by hard-working volunteers) were delicious, and much appreciated after the exertions on the water.

I met quite a lot of friends I had made in Brittany, including the crazy lot from CaraMed, who invited me back to sail with the Catalina any time I wanted. Mind you, they owed it to me, as Vincenzo and I, with two heavy sweeps, rowed all forty something feet, and eight tons, of her into the darse at Villefranche as a taxi service off the other boats. To cap it all, we were played into our berth by a dour Scotsman in Bermuda shorts, playing Scotland the Brave and Flower of Scotland, with repeats (well, it took a long time to wriggle into the space at our disposal, and sweeps aren't the best way of navigating narrow passages).

The other pleasure was meeting lots of Italians, especially the crew of an exquisite sailing gozzo, the San Giuseppe, from Prà, near Genoa. For some strange reason, the skipper of the San Giuseppe was wearing what looked like a magistrate's biretta with regulation pom pom. Inexplicably, incongruously, it was exactly the right kind of headgear for the occasion.