The Bay of Toulon

 

Common Sense anchored off St Mandrier

One of the very best things about the cruising life is the community of cruisers, a remarkably diverse group who travel the world or their own bit of coast, united by their love of boats and exploring. When Common Sense wintered in Monastir, Tunisia in 2012-13, we were fortunate to be berthed on Ponton Deux with seven French yachts (sorry Laurent - six French and one Belgian!) where we made some wonderful friends and shared memorable experiences exploring Roman ruins around Tunisia, learning to negotiate in the markets, cooking and eating great food, and eventually, sailing away in company.

It's hard to say goodbye when it's time to part ways, but there's always a chance that you'll meet again somewhere - an isolated bay, a fishing harbour, the next marina ... This has happened to us many times, especially with this lively bunch from Monastir. So it was with great delight and anticipation that we headed out towards the Bay of Toulon, intending to meet up with Seed and Guy and their children Francesca and Diego from Sailing Yacht Skaf .

We sailed into the magnificent bay with its naval vessels, fishing fleet and rickety oyster farms. Toulon itself is to starboard as you enter, but we headed to the other shore to the quieter village of  St Mandrier, sending off a quick text to Seed before settling in for the night. Early next morning, just as I'd put the coffee on, we were delighted to see Guy on the dock with his familiar grin and two bags of fresh warm croissants. He guided us around the bay to anchor in mud at the bottom of their street. "Are we allowed to anchor here?"  we asked. Guy gave a classic Gallic shrug and said the words we would hear frequently over the next few days, "We are French..."

Oyster farms on the Bay of Toulon

Ancient church and monastery

 

For the next few days, Guy took us touring his town and the surrounding countryside - the view from the mountains where you could see the very spot where Cousteau and Gagnan tested the first SCUBA gear; a beautiful old  Medieval church fully restored by a local  priest; the wonderful Toulon markets, reached by ferry.  What a market it is!  Fruit, vegetables, nuts, dried fruits, meats, breads, fresh seafood…. The tables went on and on, as did the fussy French customers sniffing, poking and tasting everything. Food is much too important to make do with second best!

 

Toulon market

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Guy was in a big buying mood, with meals planned for us, and also for his other guests. Seed and Guy open their house to everyone -  international students, couch-surfers, Air BnB guests and cruising blow-ins like us, so you're never quite sure who will show up at the evening meal. It's a cosmopolitan affair with much miming, loose translation, copious wine and laughter. They are not cruising the world at the moment so, as Seed explained, "It is important for the world to come to us!"

Guy is a remarkable man, unique and irrepressible.  He is a retired French Fire Service officer, who has had an exciting career which included being blown up twice (as he tells it, “One time, BOOM! 30 metres I went!”)

Guy - philosopher, historian, story teller

It was Guy who excitedly told Terry once about his theory of Mediterranean Man – he says he has more in common with a Tunisian fisherman or Syracusa market gardener than a German auto worker.  The Mediterranean is different, he says, as people are looking for quality in their lives rather than things.  His house is an unfinished project of unapproved additions and quirks.  He says that his whole neighbourhood is the same and if the Council wants to stick their noses in they will have to prosecute a thousand people, so they don’t!  Life with Guy and Seed and their family is never dull – every day is met full on, with something to be done, some project or adventure.  He says, if you stop, you might as well be dead.

On our final night, he cooked a paella that was simply the best we had ever had (after a day-long quest for the "right" mussels).  The paella skills apparently come down from pirate ancestors in Mallorca.

 

 

And then it's time for us to sail on, with many promises to keep in touch and to meet up again. We are on a bit of a schedule, trying to get to Cartagena by the end of September so we can catch a train back to Italy to meet up with our Australian friends.

And we all know what happens when you try to cruise to a schedule...