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Problems in Sete
Covers December 21 to 27, 2000
We chose to go through Sete, as I was afraid of Port St. Louis because we had never properly checked in with the French Customs (Douane), and that being a bigger port, and a port of entry, we might just be asked about our paper work. Knowing the stories of French customs bureaucracy I was quite concerned that they would impound the boat if they knew we had transited all the way through France over a three month period without properly clearing in. So I thought there would be less of a chance of customs officials in a smaller port such as Sete.
However, we broke another cardinal rule in that we did not have any charts for this stretch of the Petit Rhone down to Sete. When we were in Tournon we copied some of the information from Mike’s Navicarte to get us to Sete. It was fine for most of the way.
After the St Gilles lock, we went down long stretches of canal through the Camargue region of Provence, sighting the local wild ponies in small herds of ten to twelve grazing along the banks. We also saw several farmers gathering reeds in large stacks from the dry marsh lands bordering the waterway for some form of thatch industry. We were a bit confused as we approached one swing bridge that we had noted down from Mike’s charts; as we didn’t know how to signal for it to be opened, and we could not see anyone around or any control booth for operating it. However, it was in the open position (for the winter I guess) and we were able to get past OK.
The next bridge we came to, at Frontignon, was not in our notes, and we had to back up and go alongside to land Judy to investigate, when it then opened for us. The day was getting late, and there was a strong crosswind as we motored down the long straight stretches with large delta lakes on both sides of the canal. We could see the coastal cities, as we passed, but had no idea of which ones they were. We were getting into more and more civilization in the late afternoon, passing sections of small fishing shacks, marinas, rowing clubs, cross canals, construction areas, and periodic channels opening out into the wide shallow lakes on either side of this Canal du Rhone a Sete.
The wind was so strong we closed up our side curtains on the bimini for warmth. The low tracts of marshland and the condominiums behind them reminded me of Florida, around Miami and the Keys, complete with flocks of flamingos standing one footed in the middle of these shallow lakes. We were moving along at hull speed of 5.5 knots even though some areas had speed restrictions of 4 knots. We slowed down a bit when in the proximity of moored boats, but as there were no other boats using the canal, we kept up our speed where possible, to reach Sete before dark.
Sunset was at about 1630 and we still had 4 nautical miles to go by that time. Navigating the little used canal would not be a problem in the dark, except that the last two mile stretch into Sete was across Etang de Thau, a large lake with few marker buoys to indicate the channel going off to Sete. The shallow lake abounded with fishing floats all over the place. We had to guess where the markers were to get across to the channel entrance for the bridges going through Sete to the Med. We managed, although we were not sure of our position until we were within a couple hundred yards of the entrance lights, which were difficult to make out in the evening dusk. At 1715 went alongside a waiting wall above the first bridge going into Sete. It and the next bridge did not open until 1915, so we stayed alongside for supper and talked with Franz and Gisela on Kewish, a 30 foot German sailboat, who were also going through to the Med, and whom we had met at Ecluse Bourg-les-Valence the first day after the strike. They got through that lock at noon hour, whereas we had to wait until 1700 that day.
They were going through only the first two (of five) bridges to a boat yard to have their mast stepped for them, rather than go all the way out to the harbourside marina which they thought would be more expensive. OK, so we followed them past the bridges in the dark at 1915 to Evasion Marine, a run down boatyard with a mobile crane. It was 1930 at the gateway to the Med (43 24.8N, 003 41.5E) on December 20, and we hoped to get our mast up the next day, and off to Barcelona for Christmas.
It was not to be! We did get the mast up next day, December 21, in the midst of a heavy SE wind that worked up to gale force before the day was out. The next two days the winds were still blowing from the southeast, force 8 and 9, pinning us against the wall, totally unable to get off. They started to ease on the 23rd, and we were ready to leave on the 24th, only to find out the bridges were closed until the 26th! Stuck alongside this dirty, derelict, wind blown concrete wall of a boatyard, empty of any other life (save for two mangy mongrel German shepherd dogs) for Christmas!
To make matters worse, the charges were exorbitant at 900Ff for stepping the mast and four days mooring alongside that dismal location. At least we had electricity. We paid 800 Ff at Rouen with a large cargo crane and three workers for two hours to take the mast down. This operation at Evasion Marine was one man with an ancient mobile crane for one and a half hours. I was furious!
To top it all off, the storm had forced Veleda against the concrete wall and shifted the fender boards and fenders so that she was rubbing against the concrete, and wore through the gelcoat, scoring a white wear patch midships on our port side. There were no bollards on the jetty and we had to secure to a couple of miscellaneous rings in the yard, but not allowing adequate angles to avoid shifting as the wind pounded us with 35 to 50 knot winds for 72 hours.
Christmas Day the winds had settled down to reveal a coating of fine soot blown across the harbour by the gale. The deck, rigging, dodger, bimini, life lines, sail cover, all were coated with this black dust that dirtied the hands, left black footprints, and soiled clothes whenever contact was made with any part of the upper deck, the stays, lifelines, or rigging. I hosed down the boat after breakfast and opening of our Christmas gifts.
We exchanged a few small gifts for each other and for Veleda. On a 10 metre boat one has not the room for any large items not essential to the operation of the vessel, so small things such as a blue and white striped nautical sweater for Judy, a coffee canister for me, and a grilling pan and steak knives for Veleda’s galley were the level of gifts given. We went for a dinghy ride under the bridges to the outer marina to look at the Med. There are a couple of long canals that run through the centre of Sete, lined with vessels from small punts up to large yachts and fishing trawlers. It is a picturesque waterfront city. We visited Kewish, who had shifted to another location the day before Christmas, but were still trapped between the bridges. However, by early afternoon, Judy had developed a serious upset stomach and was feeling very sick. This lasted all day and night, but was better the next day, Boxing Day, as we finally headed through the last three bridges towards the Med.
However, we had one last detail to attend to, a French propane cube which we wanted to return before leaving France. We knew there was a shopping mall past the last bridge, and so we went alongside an empty industrial dock while Judy took the empty cylinder in for our deposit. I stayed on board making the final preparations for sea when I noticed a white building at the end of the dock with the letters DOUANE on it. My anxiety level went sky high, as the very reason for exiting at Sete was to avoid any casual inspection from the Douane (customs) officials.
Shortly after, an official looking man with a hand held VHF came by in a car and started talking to me in French. My French is not as good as Judy’s, but I had to cope. He was asking why I was here, and how long we were staying, and had I contacted the Captainerie about this location. He was not from the Douane, but from the port authority, enquiring of our presence in a commercial dock. I was able to explain we were there just for a half hour or so for last minute supplies from the local plaza, and we would be on out way out. Where to he asked? I wasn’t sure if he was quizzing me or just curious. However, he was interested in our voyage and we had a bit of a conversation about Canada and our trip so far. I assured him we would be off in half an hour, and he wished us bon voyage. Whew!
When Judy returned, we took off immediately and were on our way into the Med, off to Barcelona at last.
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