In the early Spring of 2002 four gentlemen with an average age of sixty set off from Antibes to circumnavigate Corsica and return within nine days.  At the top of the averages was Mike J a retired accountant, next myself at sixty almost to the day, followed closely by Mike T a financial adviser and the boy of the crew was Peter a retired university economics professor.

Mike J took the photograph.

With the wind whistling through he marina on the first day we had a lie in and left early the next morning for Calvi. Regular readers will know that I have a great respect for Aeolus but he does put it to the test with 20kts fom the east so early in the season.  Rather than beating to Calvi staying on starboard meant we could lay Ajaccio rather than tacking through the night for Calvi.

Mike T had set a waypoint to the north west of Isles Sanguinaires and the Waypoint Approach Alarm went as dawn broke fine and clear.  The decision to go through the inner passage by the Pte. De la Parata was good but the mistake was to bear away because when the wind headed us as it invariably does the last three miles was a dead beat on a sparkling sea.

That night I was Chef.  Having no lemons I sprayed the juice from fresh limes on the avocado pears as I peeled them and what an improvement in the taste. Two sliced cloves of garlic were gently fried in a little olive oil to which plenty of butter was added and finally the cooked large prawns. It only needed two or three minutes to heat them through.  Green salad, a few slices of avocado, prawns, hot garlic butter poured on the top and served with fresh baguette made for a starter to die for. So good that I’ve forgotten what I cooked for the rest of the meal.

My patience with Aeolus paid off the next day when he took the wind into the west and we stomped down to Bonifacio. None of the others had been before and as countless sailors before them they marvelled at the entrance.  A solid white limestone cliff suddenly opens to reveal the entrance between steep cliffs on both sides.  The marina is surrounded by bars and restaurants which we grew to know and love in the three days lost to a combination of bad weather and bad forecasts. The story of one night out is given below.

When we did leave it was in the true and certain knowledge that it would be blowing westerly F7/8 through the Straits of Bonifacio which was the first leg of the trip up the eastern side of Corsica, around Cap Corse and back to Antibes, a total of 240 nM in one leg.

Running along the southern tip of Corsica was fine and dandy.  Mike T had put in waypoints to go through a narrow channel between Corsica and the Isla Cavello.  It is bounded by nasty rocks with teeth and as we turned north the wind came on the beam and the apparent wind increased dramatically.  Not liking the idea of racing into a narrow channel with decreasing width I made the wise decision to chicken out and tacked, bore away and reached down the western side of Isla Lavezzi.

After a controlled jibe the wind came on the port beam again but this time there was nothing to leeward except Italy.  North of Porto Vecchio the wind went down to a comfortable 15/20kts but then died 5 nM further north and we motored through the night to meet the dawn at Maccinagio. As we slipped into the marina there was just the sound of the dawn chorus and early morning deliveries. After breakfast and a shopping trip we were off but I will be back.

Aeolus was kind to us and the wind was 15kts and letting us lay Antibes but by 11.00 he had changed his mind and we had to motor until 17.00 when he remembered our plight and blew 15kts from the south west. Midnight and he added another twist and the wind headed us putting San Remo on the bow so with Easyjet waiting in Nice we gave in and motor- sailed with just half the main and got in at 09 00 having completed our circumnavigation of Corsica.

Saturday night out in Bonifacio.

Anchored in a bay off the north east coast of Australia the husband dived over the side to check the anchor while the wife stood on the foredeck and watched the crocodile eat her husband. The Swiss couple who told us this were on their last leg of a Round the World trip and they also told us of a restaurant on the other side of the harbour.  Saturday night was a Corsican night with Corsican food and authentic Corsican music but as we trudged around the harbour in the rain expectations were not high.  They took a further tumble when we entered and saw that only two other tables were taken and the music was far too loud but such was the welcome that it was difficult to walk out even when our host sat us under the speakers.

Our host was a tall, slim, sixty something with a moustache who smiled and turned down the volume.  The one waiter was tall, slim and twenty something. He spoke slowly enough for us to understand when he described the only menu available: a starter of mussel salad, langoustines for main course followed by cheese and dessert.  All the wines were Corsican.  The cheese and wine were the highlights of the meal.

By the time we had our starters all fourteen tables were full and we were the only foreigners and everybody knew everybody else.  At a central table, sitting on his own, was another sixty something man wearing a blue shirt with a dark blue cardigan draped over his shoulders.  As the other diners arrived they went up to his table, kissed his cheeks and were pleased to be recognised.  Whenever he applauded a song everyone else applauded vigorously.  He took out his XXXXXXXXXXXXXX folding knife to cut his cheese.  Towards the end of the evening he indicated to a couple that they could join him at his table and the beaming husband pushed his wife forward.

Three young Corsairs sat on high stools playing their guitars and singing all evening.  From the cut of their forearm it was obvious that their day jobs involved fishing, building, forestry or some such thing-- not a social worker among them.  They sang Italian love songs, French love songs, songs making fun of other parts of Corsica but the greatest cheers came for the  clearly rebel songs and it seemed we had gate crashed a meet of the FLNC.

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