Calvi
Altea
Fri 15 Aug 2014 12:02
2 August 2014
I have been looking forward to Calvi. I remember it from a family holiday, when the four of us went out in a Hobie Cat in a stiff breeze. Of course we capsized. Chris thought it was hilarious. Unfortunately Jonny had recently watched Jaws and was convinced we were all going to be eaten. He clung to the wreckage until eventually he dropped into the water, enraged. A passing French man rescued him on his canoe and calmed him until we had righted the cat and were ready to tackle the return leg.
Also, this is the site of one of Nelson's great victories, when he hauled his guns over land and bombarded the citadel from a nearby hilltop. This is where he lost his eye, to a stone fragment thrown up by an enemy shell.
For today, it is the scene of another minor victory. We arrive under magnificently flying gennaker (effectively the same as a spinnaker) which we have mastered along the way. It really is a monster of a sail, and allows us to head much further and faster down wind in lighter airs than we would otherwise manage.
Calvi looks glorious in the evening sun, sitting behind and above its massive protective walls, looking like a Disney portrayal of a fortified town.
There are boats moored at buoys in front of the harbour, but still room to anchor further out, with a great view of the old town and, on the other side, the peaks of Corsica's mountainous spine, with snow still visible in the sheltered cols. Along the shoreline of the bay the umbrella pines still have the bright green freshness of this year's growth. In the trees we can see a village of small wooden huts. Calvi is still home to the French Foreign Legion, but this looks more like a very discreet, if basic, holiday village.
We have a peaceful evening sitting in the cockpit, just watching the sun go down behind the old town.
At anchor
3 August 2014
We spent the day in Calvi. First thing first, as usual, was to find the bins. Successfully done, we also tracked down somewhere to but some diving weights, and a new outhall and mainsheet. These have been needed for a while, and I was pleased to find the right rope at a decent price.
The citadel is as picturesque as we remembered. It has not changed much since Nelson's time, although there is little evidence of his ruthless bombardment. It has steep narrow streets, many of which are wide enough only to pass on foot or maybe with a cart or a donkey. Christopher Columbus also had a house here in even earlier days and as fellow mariners we feel the weight of history on our shoulders...
We enjoyed the walk round, spotting a restaurant with a great view. We were between lunch and dinner, and after an ice cream we scooted back to the boat for an hour or two. After a shower, we returned to the town for dinner. It was a very pleasant meal overlooking the bay from within the citadel's walls.
We all admire the waitress in the green shirt. She is clearly the sister of the girl in the blue dress. They are both the daughters of the owner. The green girl is very pretty, welcoming, engaging, smiling, industrious and helpful. The blue girl is mis-cast as the meeter and greeter. She is more like a guard. She is equally pretty, but miserable, slow and stony faced. We speculate on the relative impact of nature versus nurture, but then relent. Maybe the blue girl is just having a bad day.
After struggling for a while with our new combination lock on the wire dinghy leash - dim light and bad eyesight do not go well with the small numbers and stubborn tumblers - we return home with head torches on, across a sea that has now turned glassy smooth.