Navigation #11: La Ciotat-Ile verte, everything went wrong!

After some hesitation, Nico’s mom decided to join us for a short trip to Île Verte, persuaded by the calm sea and the island’s proximity to La Ciotat’s harbor. Just a stone’s throw across the water, Île Verte seemed like the perfect spot for a relaxed outing, especially for someone less keen on sailing. With spirits high, we set off, anticipating a pleasant day of exploration.

Unfortunately, everything that could go wrong did go wrong.

Our plan was to approach Île Verte, a small, pine-covered island known for its scenic trails and secluded coves, and moor nearby. From there, we’d take the dinghy ashore for a short hike to enjoy the island’s natural beauty. But as we neared the island and dropped anchor, our troubles began.

Moments after mooring, a voice boomed over a loudspeaker from a nearby patrol boat. The official informed us that mooring was prohibited in that area due to underwater cables. They urged us to check our navigation map. 

Confident in our positioning, we double-checked the chart, only to realize our mistake: we hadn’t zoomed out far enough. The restricted zone was much larger than we’d thought, and we were squarely within it. Embarrassed but compliant, we pulled up the anchor and motored farther out to find a safer spot.

We moored again, believing we were now clear of the restricted zone. But our relief was short-lived. Unbeknownst to us, we were still within the cable zone—a fact we’d only learn later. 

Worse yet, as we settled in, we discovered that our boat had become entangled in fishing nets beneath the surface. The nets were caught around the rudder threatening to damage the boat and the dingy as the fisherman's boat was hitting our dinghy while he was lifting up his net.

The realization hit us hard: we had no way of knowing fishing nets were in the area. While buoys marked the water, they gave no indication of whether they signified “casiers” (traps) or nets. \

The lack of clear signage left us frustrated, but there was no time to dwell on it. Nico and his dad sprang into action, carefully maneuvering to free the boat. 

After some tense moments—and a lot of teamwork—they managed to disentangle the nets from the rudder without causing damage. We breathed a collective sigh of relief, though the mood on board was far less carefree than when we’d set out.

In the end, we decided to abandon our plans for a hike on Île Verte.  

 

 

 A Rough Lunch at the Creek 

After our challenging morning near Île Verte, we sailed to a nearby creek, hoping for a peaceful spot to anchor for lunch. The plan was to enjoy a quiet meal surrounded by the Calanques’ stunning cliffs and calm waters, a perfect way to salvage the day. We dropped anchor, confident that the creek’s natural embrace would offer shelter from the open sea.

Unfortunately, the mooring wasn’t nearly as protected as we’d hoped. What looked like a tranquil cove from a distance turned out to be deceptively exposed. The boat rocked relentlessly as waves rolled in, making it impossible to relax. 

Nico’s mom and I bore the brunt of it, our stomachs churning with every sway. Lunch, which we’d envisioned as a delightful and light, became a battle against seasickness.

 Feeling green and miserable, we pleaded with Nico and his dad to cut the meal short and take us back to the safety of La Ciotat’s marina.

Reluctantly, the men agreed, though Nico’s dad couldn’t resist a playful grumble about “landlubbers.” With the boat still swaying, we packed up and set course for the harbor, the promise of solid ground keeping our spirits afloat. 

As we approached the marina, the sight of La Ciotat’s colorful waterfront felt like a warm embrace, and Nico’s mom and I vowed to stick to terra firma for the rest of the day.

We had pizza for dinner and found our smiles back!!