Doing the hard yards

In the evenings here at Port Napoleon, we often take a turn around the yard. At first I was nervous about walking near the cradles. It felt dangerous, like walking under a ladder or standing too close to a big piece of machinery. But I’ve grown to like being around the keels, near the rough under- bellies of boats.  

Alex gets his strength back

The first time were here, when we got our first look at Enki in the second week of June, Port Napoleon was like a cemetery with so many “dead” boats packed tight up against each other, and barely a living soul in sight. Now, with summer in full swing, the place is buzzing with “professionals” (the young men who turn old men’s dreams into reality) and with owners and their families who arrive every day to prepare their boats for the water. Mostly they are French, but there are plenty of people from further north – Germany, England, Norway, Belgium and so on.  We usually have a beer in early evening at the Jospehine, the bar/restaurant down below (we take the laptop with us, as everyone does, because the wireless signal is faster there). We now recognize the professionals and the marina staff,  but other faces change almost daily.  Families open up their boats, clean them, anti-foul them (if they’re not already done) and then they’re gone, in the water, off on their summer holiday.

Professionals at work

Boat arrives from Amsterdam by truck

New mast waiting for installation

Because the evenings are so long and warm, we take it slowly, walking right around the perimeter of the yard and then up and down a few pontoons.  There are some big new masts going in, new sails being hoisted. We passed a rigger last night working on one of those ‘wow’ boats, the sort which smells like a new car.  Then there are the hulks, the old timers, and of course, the super-sleek racehorses which are just panting for a run. There are comparatively few “serious” cruising boats here, of the sort we saw in the Pacific, decked out with wind generators and solar panels. Mostly what we see are European production cruisers set up for Mediterranean sailing.  Who needs a hard top when the sea is smooth and winds fair?

Brand new Jeanneau 54 deck saloon 

Alex’s back has been playing up lately, but Port Napoleon is completely flat with plenty of sights to take his mind off the pain – the perfect backyard, in fact. Throughout the day we can see boats being moved around the yard, and on our walk we notice where they’ve gone from. Big holes are appearing, as if teeth have been removed, in the rows of hard stands. Lots of boats have cars parked next to the keel, under the hull, and ladders going up to the deck. Owners stay on their boats while they are preparing them, sleeping on board and climbing down to use the toilet and shower block, and to eat and drink at the Josephine. Not my cup of tea. From our deck we see a 60-something man who seems to be living permanently on his huge motor cruiser (the boat’s for sale).  The caravan or campervan tucked in between the hardware is a smarter idea, I reckon.

If you don’t rent an apartment, as we are doing, or a “bungalow” (a room in a converted container), there aren’t too many other options.  Port Napoleon is out on a limb. When five French military heliopters flew over this morning (coming back from Libya?) they wouldn’t have woken much of a neighbourhood. Across the Rhone to the west (pictured below at Port St Louis) there's the wilderness of the Camargue, and east there's the wilderness of the gigantic Gulf of Fos and Marseille seaport. 

From our room with a view

What’s surprising is not how much activity there is around the yard, but how many boats are still on their cradles. It’s the second half of July already! The summer is half gone. I hope we’re not still here in August, but I’m curious to know how many boats don’t get in the water at all over summer. My feeling is that it must be a lot. There are large sections of the yard which still feel like a graveyard, where there are no cars, and no ladders. There are a lot of boats for sale, some of them pretty, like this boat below, which is registered in Port Vila, Vanuatu (what is its story?), but many of them have no particular attraction, as far as I can see. Who buys ordinary old boats? Why would you pick this one, say, over that one in a line-up? I should know by now, having spent a month examining boats, but none of the boats we looked at was ordinary, as such. Or that’s my opinion.

Tania, out of Port Vila FOR SALE

We walk past Enki every night, and are anxious to make her our boat. But we are waiting for documentation from Zurich. It’s in the post., Christoph has informed us.  We are crossing our fingers it arrives in good order by mid-week.  The anxiety of a private sale is not something I’d go through again, by choice.  So while it may seem monotonous, and  a bit odd-ball to be walking around the boatyard each evening, it’s also soothing. We are among boats, we can see the boat we intend to buy.  If we could be in the water, it would be even better, but for now we’ll be happy if can just complete the sale, and be aboard Enki,  Start getting to know her.