At management school, they used to use the phrase ‘eating an elephant’ as a metaphor for tackling large tasks, i.e., one cannot eat an elephant in one mouthful. Today, it feels like we have munched our way through another small loxodontine steak, having arrived safely at the SAS shed in Canet with all our worldly boat-related goods.
We managed to shove even more in the car yesterday night, and set off at about 06:45 this morning for our long drive southwards. We headed cross-country to Montaubin, through beautiful, verdant and rolling countryside, peppered with groves of - we assume - plum trees, being not too far from the Agen prune region. Many of the orchards were covered in acres of either plastic sheet or a very fine plastic mesh, perhaps to help ripen the fruit and/or keep off hungry birds. I know it's commonplace in Spain, but I’m not sure what I think to the sight of so much plastic in the French environs, although I expect its use is also spreading rapidly in England.
After Montaubin, we picked up the autoroutes and whizzed south-eastwards passing Toulouse and the medieval, walled citadel of Carcassonne, before turning south at Narbonne and head towards the coastal foothills of the Pyrenees, just visible in the distance. Soon we were passing through a familiar landscape of: scorched, rocky scrub; wind turbines; low blue etangs full of the paraphernalia of oyster cultivation; a narrow strip of land and sand; and the dazzling blue of the Mediterranean Sea just beyond.
Chris called us as we were driving along. There has been another change of plan! It doesn’t look like Ruari will be able to get to Palma after all, as Spain has just introduced a 2-vaccine rule for entry. Therefore, he has organised that Simon, from Sunbird in Palma, will travel to Canet and do the handover with us. He’s more of a sales guy than a technician, but Chris assured us he was good at the wining and dining clients. So, tick! Plus, Will at SAS will now cover all the technical handover and do any odd jobs that Ruari would have done, like fixing fire extinguishers in place, applying decals (with the boat name and logo) etc.
We arrived during SAS lunch hour, so we found a tapas bar in which to while the time before we headed for the shed. At SAS, the reception staff were lovely, gave us a warm welcome and coffee, and introduced us to Will, who seems a very cheery fellow. He informed us that MB was already in the water <wow>, and that we could pop along and have a look, but not to go onboard, because she is being fitted out. But first he pointed to a large, expandable carboard box on a palette and said we could unload all our stuff into that for storage. And, so we did.
Then, eagerly and apprehensively, we walked to the quayside and there, between a massive 60-foot yacht and an enormous catamaran, was our relatively small but lovely MB, with her bright white hull and blue lines. She had her mast, rigging and sails all hanked on, and her blue sprayhood and wheel covers. We said hello to the two French workmen who were fitting her kicking strap or boom vang (the thing that, amongst other functions, keeps the boom from hitting the deck when the main sail is down).
We stayed for a couple of photos, before heading off to Portel-des-Corbieres, where we are staying for a few nights at Sari and Thorne’s house.
Enroute, we dropped into Port Leucate (two lines of oyster shacks backing onto a central channel) to look at the sea, unruffled by the gentle easterly, on-shore breeze that was whisking one or two yachts southwards towards Spain.
We toasted MB with a glass of the local picpoul (de pinet) and half a dozen oysters.
After a few days here at Portel, we’ll head back to Aubeterre (to leave the car there) and then, hopefully, Sari and Thorne will be able to collect us as they escape Blighty and head back down here.