Off Corse again!

Picking up where we left off on our cruise around whatever we find, we set off back to Corsica. Having circumnavigating Elba for a second time and covering the south and the north of Capraia, it's time to cross the Corsican channel again and head for Maccinaggio on Cap Corse.

After a fairly stormy patch we seem to have met a really settled period. Mrs K hit it off with the diesel pump attendant and he arranged for our berth at only 34 euros for the night. 

Maccinaggio is a quaint little port which despatched four boats in 1571 to assist in the defeat of the Turks at Lepanto. 

Having read this on a plaque I enquired if they had any winter storage space now with the four ships gone. They did but getting to and from Maccinaggio seems to involve a long walk, donkey trip and a boat ride so it may not be  deemed suitable.

Rounding Cap Corse can be a bit of a trial if the wind gets up so we were lucky with our settled conditions and the lack of wind meant the sails stayed furled and Hermy's motor got a thrashing.

Night at anchor in a lovely little bay called  Anse d' Aliso. Gave my loved one's bottom a once over and scraped off a few barnacles. Salt water does that to a girls bottom you know!.

Then a lovely night's sleep with only one other yacht at Anchor.

Next stop Saint Florent. A place I had not heard of but the faithful pilot book gave a good run down and pointed out that this was where the Martello tower comes from. 

Apparently Admiral Hood in 17 something came to help Pasquelle Paoli gain independence for Corsica and when he rolled up with his fleet he didn't have too much trouble despatching the opposition. All except those sitting in a small round tower at Mortello point nearby. 

He thrashed it and bashed it without much impression and eventually took it using Marines. So impressed with their resilience he thought we could use a couple of those in Kent just in case those uppity French ever made it across the channel.

I suspect Hood did not encounter the crosswind I did and did not enter his berth sideways. It was in fact a faulty dock that put me off as it is set at a slant. I did try to explain this to the unimpressed catcher of ropes but couldn't think of the word for spirit level.

Anyway Mr Heikell was right it is a lovely town. It was laundry day and armed with three large bags of washing we hit the Laverie. Now we didn't have enough coinage so Mrs K set off to buy some bread rolls. She returned with bread rolls, an Ice cream and a bit of a glow. Apparently when she tried to buy the rolls with a note claiming she had no change some handsome Corsican stepped in and bought the rolls for her. Hence the Ice cream purchase.

We put on the rest of the washing and Mrs K took the first load back to the boat to dry it on the rigging. I struggled back with the other two bags only to be told that a very nice, handsome Corsican man, seeing her with a bag carried it all the way back to the boat for her. A skip in Mrs K's step I see!

Damn Corsican's keep chatting up the wife!

After a bit of shopping we had a lovely beer watching the Boules match without any Corsican male intrusions and retired to our airer.

Now it had to happen eventually. After a quick walk around the fairly unimpressive citadel we decided to leave the slanted dock. Now I confess I had an inkling that all might not be well but the "It'll be fine" philosophy took charge and as we backed out we caught the dock line on the rudder which fed it nicely on to the prop giving a clunking noise I had not heard before. Boat preservation took over and I turned off the engine. Now we were adrift in the marina!

 What to do?

Mrs K reminded me of boat hooks and as we slid past a dock I was able to catch a chain and we secured Hermy to it.

Bugger!

"It's no good dear I'll have to go over the side."

Over I went with my trusty pen knife and saw that Hermy's rope cutter had made mincemeat of the dock line but it was still jammed in the rudder and had caught in the workings of the feathering prop.

I freed it all with several dives and emerged completely blue with antifoul all over me. I decided I had to confess to the Capitainerie and after failing to make myself understood on the raio I marched to the office and explained the situation. I think they are still wondering how in all this I managed a blue rinse in to the bargain.

Anyway we couldn't retrieve the end so we had to foot the bill for a diver. 80 Euros. Bloody divers!

Anyway no damage to Hermy and off we went to Ile Rouse with damaged pride again.

Still we were led to believe that Ile Rouse wasn't quite the ticket but we anchored off and took the dinghy in to a charming little town I think they call it Pasqualle Paoli's port. 

Nice shops pretty harbour and a beach. We also had a lovely lunch of Corsican meats and salad, Tip top. 

We were also joined at anchor by what we are told is the largest sailing boat afloat. The Royal Clipper.

After a nice stop at Ile Rousse we set off for Calvi and join four other boats anchored off only to be told we can't anchor there by a man in a rib. I gaze towards the other boats and he picks up on my doubt but assures me they will be moved on too. 

He says we can anchor off over the other side of the bay or pay 20 euros for a mooring. Still smarting from St Florent, we bugger off and anchor for the night. Quite a pleasant spot with lovely clear water but about a mile from the town. Still after a fairly wallowy night we are joined by our friend the Royal Clipper who I note is not made to bugger off quite as far as us.

Still next morning with the wind getting up we go in to the harbour for the night for a well earned rest with no dramas.

Hermy in the centre of the almost empty harbour. It's a bit lumpy and creaky but easy to get ashore and explore the almost impregnably Genoese citadel. Well almost. Nelson captured it in 17 something but we haven't mentioned that as there are quite a few, very tough looking, Claude Van Dam type, French Foreign Legion soldiers knocking about and we don't want to upset them do we!