Episode 13: Porquerolles - Ajaccio

1925

It's still dark in Porquerolles when the moorings are cast off, admiring the brig Carlos silhouetted against the moon. Where did we leave from? Where are we going? It doesn't matter. Here, it's the nameless, the infinite. Huddled in her pea coat, legs wrapped in a blanket, eye fixed on the candlelit compass, and pipe in mouth, it's Ella who takes her watch. It's her turn to be alone with her own dreams.

Then, at dawn, the crew bustles around on deck and Bonita fills with shouts and laughter! First, the deck must be washed. Brushes and mop heads appear through the hole in the station. The ropes are secured to the shrouds so they don't get soaked. The hatches and skylight are closed. While one pulls large buckets of seawater, which she squirts with all her might onto the deck against the bulwark, and starting from the bow, another brushes vigorously. A few more buckets of water are placed on the dinghy to prevent the sun from drying it out... And hey presto, a bucket is placed on Ella's back as she prepares to shower in the shade of the jibs. She once again notes that they can't find that famous soap that's supposed to foam with salt water. "Piaouf! A man overboard!" » A sniffing head appears: it's the captain who has just dived and is swimming without fear of sharks. She easily catches up with the boat, climbs aboard, dripping wet, to stretch out on the deck with the sly hope of winning the "most tanned" competition open among the crew. To this end, we indulge in eight hours of sunburn; we anoint ourselves with sweet almond oil like the Greek athletes; we hardly dare soap ourselves with fresh water...

And above all, we're hungry! The head chef prepares a hasty meal in the quarters, the main ingredients of which are bacon, fruit, and compotes, unless he goes so far as to simmer rice, pasta, or peas. Another one devotes herself to the dishes, done in the bucket, in the shade of the sail or the jibs, while the rest of the crew goes back to take a nap. The captain, exhausted by the heat, dressed in her striped pajamas, a large planter's hat, and green glasses, roasts herself at the helm.

On the evening of the 14th, an uncertain Corsica looms on the horizon. Their first scare on the third night at sea: a collision with a cargo ship that hadn't seen the smoky lights was narrowly avoided! In the morning, the crew was impressed as they sailed past the jagged, hideous Sanguinaires Islands, watching for shallows, large purple rocks that stood out against the green and turquoise waters...

Finally, on July 15th around 4 p.m., Bonita anchored in front of the Place des Palmiers in Ajaccio.

(Carinne Bertola after Marthe Oulié, When I was a sailor, 1930).

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2025: Quarter direction Ajaccio

Facing the sea that stretches as far as the eye can see, passing between Porquerolles and Port Cros, we realize that we are finally setting sail for Corsica! Sails that are ready to be hoisted: a mainsail, a staysail and a genoa.

The meal, meanwhile, finishes filling the square with its aroma: sweet potatoes and bulgur as much as you like, stored in their pots that will remain on the stove for the crossing. Seasonings will be made to taste: pomegranate seeds, lemon, parsley, olive oil, and various spices. All washed down with broth

We sail through the day, silent and contemplative. The sea is sparkling and the wind is pushing us steadily southeast. In anticipation of the coming night, some of us experiment—without success—with different positions for power naps.

The wind dies after a blazing sunset that we can't agree on: was it rainbow? romantic? disco? or rather unicorn?? We'll let you be the judge..!

We see the night slowly eating the day and, alone on the water with no boats in sight, we feel like the sea is ours! The night shifts are organized and the first among us take a nap on command before their watch time.

In the dark, we track the progress of the many other boats using our modern navigation instruments—AIS and chart plotters. But some of them remain invisible to electronic eyes. A careful visual watch allows us to identify and avoid three sailboats on their way from Corsica, which would have passed us far too closely had we not adjusted our course.

The pots prepared by Yvonne and Esther are emptied as we move through our respective shifts, as we discover that we have enormous appetites, undoubtedly whetted by the hours of watchfulness and maneuvering in the open air.

Then, at dawn on the 28th, we in turn discovered, with emotion, the sublime yet disturbing relief of the Sanguinaires Islands. After a trouble-free approach thanks to the now installed buoys, our arrival at the port of Ajaccio smoothly concluded our crossing at 12:30 p.m.

We explore the narrow streets of Ajaccio. Unlike the girls 100 years earlier, we don't walk around with machetes around our waists to protect ourselves from bandits; we don't steal figs from the market, and we don't shoot seagulls with pistols. We're wiser, and we improvise a trip to St. Erasmus Church to listen to Corsican polyphonies!

These hours spent gliding across the waves day and night will remain in our memories. For the beauty of the long glides across the dark water, of course, but also for the memory of Ella and her companions, for the nocturnal discussions whispered without seeing each other while watching the horizon, and for the peace they brought us.

The only downside: time flies and time constraints catch up with us... counting the miles we have left, we realize that we will not have enough days to complete the route planned for 2025, from Marseille to Palermo.