The Camargue Carcassonne, Canal du Midi, France June 11, 2005 Hi Folks, We are here in Carcassonne on the Canal du Midi, in the Languedoc region, from which I will travel back to Canada for my granddaughter’s wedding in Winnipeg, and a week in the Toronto area visiting friends and family. Judy will stay here with Veleda. We have found a nice mooring, free, with a water tap nearby, and only 150 metres from the train station and the main part of the city. It looks like an interesting city with a a magnificent crenellated and turreted walled medieval town, good stores, laundromats, internet cafes, many restaurants, patisseries, boucheries, charcuteries, tourist information office, and market day three times a week. I even found a hairdressing school where I was able to get an economical haircut, the first in several months. Many of the people renting the houseboats (we call them bumper boats because of the poor seamanship) on the canal speak English. Tonight we had a couple of ladies from Australia, and a gentleman from the USA drop by and a British canal boat is moored behind us. Judy should be quite comfortable here while I am back in Canada. This log gets us into the Camargue area of the Rhone delta, and from here we will be in the canals for the next month or so as we work our way up to the Bordeaux region and out into the Bay of Biscay in July. I hope to hear from some of you in the Toronto area when I am back next week. All the best, Aubrey ************************************************************************* Log #35c The Camargue Carcassonne, Canal du Midi, France June 10, 2005 Leaving Iles Frioul at the leisurely hour of 1030 on May 20, we headed west along the coast of Provence saying “Goodbye” to Marseilles and looking forward to the smaller town life of Provence and the Camargue. Provence is a poorly defined tourist and wine growing area of southern France stretching from the Italian border, including the Cote d’Azur, St Tropez, Toulon, Marseilles, and the Rhone delta along the Mediterranean coast over to Sete, and inland to Avignon and Arles. The Camargue (within Provence) encompasses the wide flat Rhone delta from Arles to the coast and over to Sete, noted for the white Camargue horses, bulls (and bull fighting), the salt flats outside the walled town of Aigues-Mortes, and the shellfish beds of the large shallow Etang de Thau (etang means pond, lagoon or lake). The term Provence originated from the Roman provincia, corrupted to Provenza, referring to Rome’s southern province of Gaul. Enjoying a good sail westward most of the way approaching the delta, we started with a full main and reefed genoa, shortly letting out the full genoa. In pleasant force 3 SSE winds we then furled the genoa and hoisted the spinnaker. It was almost as if the Med was trying to make up for four years of too light, too strong or wrong direction winds, as we were now preparing to leave. However, by noon it was blowing a strong force 5 (20 knots), so we doused the spinnaker and set the full genoa. As we were getting ready to round Cape Carro, being careful to stay outside the south cardinal buoys, the winds increased to a stronger SE force 6 (25 + knots), causing us to lower sails and motor the last two miles to anchor in gusting winds in the shallow cove of Anse de Bonnieu (43˚ 20.82’N, 005˚ 01.32’E), hoping the anchor would hold as the winds blew hard across the low-lying shoreline on this eastern end of the Rhone delta. The anchor dug in well and kept us secure. The shore area is listed as a naturist park, but it was too cool for any nudity. Oh, well. We had a quiet night and headed off early (0700) next day for Stes-Maries de la Mer, across the mouth of the Rhone, the heart of the Camargue region of the delta. We were able to sail again for about half the 30 mile trip; full genoa and main, then double-reefed main for a while, shaking out the reefs for a little, then putting them back as the winds increased and decreased from SSE force 3 to force 6 while we crossed the mouth of the Rhone. This was to be our last sail in the Med, as we were preparing to lower the mast to enter the Canal du Midi after Stes-Maries. Because this lowland delta area is subject to silting we were careful and stayed outside the buoys, even though they were a mile or two offshore. By early afternoon we were moored in the marina of Port Gardian in Stes-Maries de la Mer (43˚ 26.99’N, 004˚ 25.3’E), a well sheltered, modern marina with power and water at each slip, and good free showers. The only negative aspect was that the tailed mooring line was abominably muddy, slimy, barnacle-encrusted, and too short, so that when it was pulled out of the water and hand over hand carried to the stern, it muddied not only my gloves, but the entire side of the boat and the stern cleat area where fastened. Ugh! However the marina and town were excellent. The marina charged a moderate 23 Euros a night, and had good security. It also had a fuel dock with standard gas station prices, and some repair facilities. We found their system of hauling boats interesting. They did not have a standard four wheeled travel lift with a rectangular lifting frame, but instead had an equivalent large triangular three wheeled mechanism with a large U-shaped frame and straps hydraulically operated to lift boats out of the water. The unit would proceed down a concrete ramp with the open end of the U and the straps submerged beneath the vessel to be hauled. The straps would be tightened beneath the boat, and the mechanism would then be hauled back up the ramp and deliver the boat into the boatyard. There was a warning sign by the ramp in French, German, and English to keep clear of the area during operations. The English term used for the device called it a “contraption”, as appropriate as any term for it. We took a “busman’s holiday” with a boat trip up the Petite Rhone. There was a bit of wind against current as we entered the mouth with 1 and 2 metre waves, but the tour boat approached them carefully so that those in the bow did not get too wet. In the river we had a chance to see the Camargue, low flat lands, reed-thatched traditional homes, large reed beds, and Camargue horses and bulls often occupying the same open fields. Apparently the horses herd and dominate the bulls and are not gored by them. I was going to launch Sprite and go up the Petite Rhone myself, but we had come through this area in Veleda four years ago and other than flat land, reed beds, houses, horses, and bulls, the terrain is unspectacular and we had seen it before. The possibility of going all the way up (15 miles or so) to Arles occurred to me, but again, we have been there before. The town was alive with tourists and gypsies. This was the weekend of the Gypsy Festival when Gypsies from all over France and Europe gather to venerate the two Marys and Sarah, the gypsies’ own patroness. The ancient fortified church, built in the 12th century, served as a sanctuary from the marauding Saracens and has statues of the two Marys in a boat, and a separate one of Sarah. These are in veneration of the Provençal legend that claims in 40 AD a boat without sails or oars was cast up on shore. In the boat were the two Marys, Mary Jacobé (sister of the Virgin Mary) and Mary Magdalene who were cast out of the Holy Land by the Jews of Jerusalem. (Thus the name of the town, Saintes Maries de la Mer.) Also, in the boat, according to the summary in Rod Heikell’s Pilot, were Lazarus (who rose from the dead), Martha, sister of Lazarus, Mary Salomé, mother of the disciples James and John, Maximin and Sidonius (whose sight Jesus restored), and Sarah, the black servant of the two Marys. These people spread Christianity through southern France. The gypsies have seized upon Sarah as their patron (she is not a saint as she has not been canonized) and venerate her in this festival. The religious procession involves a ceremony for lowering the statues in the church the first evening. Then, after an all night vigil and mass next day, the procession carries the figure of Sarah through the streets, escorted by gardians on their white Camargue horses, priests in a variety of robes, small informal groups playing guitars and a variety of percussion instruments, and a wide assortment of gypsies, latter-day cowboys, townspeople and tourists following the procession. The garb of several of the priests and others, as well as the general festive atmosphere reminded me of the hippy days of the early 60’s with beads, headbands, leather sandals, shaggy hair, and anything-goes clothing. We even joined in the parade as it passed by. That evening there were impromptu festivities of gypsies and tourists singing and dancing in the streets around the church and at local restaurants. Next day the procession was with the two Marys, down to the seashore, again escorted by the gardians on horse and the assortment of gypsies and others. The gardians rode their horses into the water of the beach, forming a semicircle around the boat with the two Marys while a priest blessed the sea, before the procession returned to the church. We watched this from Sprite 50 yards off shore. This was the last of the ceremonies, except for the return of the statues and replacing them in the church until next year’s festivities. The gypsies decamped that afternoon and evening, so that by next morning the parking lots and fields where they had been encamped in their recreational vehicles and trailers were again deserted. We only saw two traditional gypsy caravans which were selling souvenirs; the rest of them had modern day camper vans, Winnebagos, trailers, and SUV’s. As we wandered by their encampments we realized that in a way, we too are gypsies, except our home is not a trailer or camper van, but Veleda, and we wander the world, rootless, but with a natural affinity for other sailing wanderers, otherwise known as liveaboard cruisers. We enjoyed the town. It had a morning fish market on the docks, and shellfish (coquillage) were a specialty at local restaurants. Judy had to try tellines, tiny coquina clams in a white sauce. However, they were too much trouble to open for the small amount of clam in each. We had a couple of lovely feasts of mussels, using the recipe for Mouclade I sent a couple of logs ago. We also went to a couple of bull “fights”, known as the course camarguaise, in the town’s open air bull arena. In this form of contest, the bull, decorated with a small rosette on its forehead between the horns, tassels at the base of its horns, and strings attached to each horn, is not killed. Instead the course involved a dozen men dressed in white pants, tee shirts, and running shoes, who paraded into the area to be announced by the President at the beginning. Six were tourneurs and the other six raseteurs. All 12 were in the ring with the bull. The tourneurs attracted the attention of the bull to get it to charge them. Then the raseteurs (one or more) would run diagonally across the path of the charging bull and try to lift with a small serrated razor comb one of the decorations from its forehead. The bull would then charge him, chasing him to the edge of the bull pen where he would hastily jump over the 1.5 metre (4 ½ foot) high wooden barrier to escape into the aisle between the barrier and the terraced stands. It was quite spectacular to see how agile these people were when chased by a raging bull. They would literally fly over the barrier and the aisle, grabbing onto the pipe railings of the stands 5 metres (15 feet) above the ground in their desperate attempt to escape. Each of these raseteurs tried to get as many of the decorations (called attributs) as he could in a 15 minute round with each bull. There were about 10 such rounds with a different bull each time. The raseteurs who collected the most attributs received prizes or recognition at the end of the tournament. If the bull was right on the heels of the raseteurs, it would sometimes butt the barrier fence, and several times the bulls actually jumped the fence and rampaged around the inner escape aisle, forcing all the competitors and attendants to jump into the bull ring or up into the stands to escape. When the bull has made such a charge against or over the barrier its aggression is recognized by the playing of a few bars from Carmen on the loudspeaker. People were often rooting for the bull as it chased all the people out of the safety aisle! The spectacle was an enjoyable late afternoon for the small sum of only 5 Euros. We also watched in the arena a Camargue display of horsemanship in which a dozen riders strutted around the ring and engaged in chases whereby one rider had a bouquet given him by a lady costumed in traditional garb. This rider had to hold the bouquet in one hand while two other horsemen tried to snatch it from him. It was a good display of horsemanship evading the others chasing him on both sides while controlling the horse with one hand. If he kept the bouquet, he returned it to the lady receiving a kiss. If one of the other riders snatched it, that rider returned it to the lady receiving her kiss. The horsemen were dressed in dark blue pants, with gaudy coloured shirts and black leather or felt fedora-type hats. All the Camargue horses are white. Their colts are born brown, but change colour when about four years old. Another display was of the horsemen riding around at a full gallop, and grabbing oranges held out on plates by the ladies located at four “corners” of the arena. It was obvious the men enjoyed their horses and the chance to show their skills. A most enjoyable morning was spent at an ornithological park outside of town. We saw hundreds if not thousands of flamingos as well as a wide assortment of herons, egrets, moorhens, ducks, owls, kites, eagles, and stilts, and several muskrat-like nutria swimming around and wobbling along the shorelines. It was the best bird sanctuary I have seen since the Jack Miner Bird Sanctuary in Ontario. I got several pictures of flamingos in flight, their red feathers beneath their outstretched wings, their long necks and extended legs giving them a colourful elongated grace when in the air. We purchased some lumber to make the cradle for our mast when we would be taking it down in Port Camargue or Grau du Roi. However when we came to cut it, the saber saw we had was too short for the larger French 2x4’s (actually 6 cm x 8 cm). The marina helped us out with a circular saw that allowed us to cut the lumber into the separate pieces we would need to assemble the frames. With the cradle pieces precut, the festivities over, our laundry done, on May 27 we motored the 19 miles past the Petite Rhone and over to Port Camargue where we planned to take down the mast before entering the Canal du Midi. However, it was not to be. Next Log