Navigation #21 Port Cogolin-San-Peire, we lost our anchor!

 We have just come back from Paris, after a long week away, and we are already on the road the following day. 

Today was one of those days on the water where Murphy’s Law ruled supreme—everything that could go wrong went spectacularly wrong!

Our plan was to moor at the glamorous St. Tropez after a short, breezy one-hour sail from our starting point. The sail itself was smooth, with the Mediterranean sparkling under the morning sun, and we were all buzzing with excitement to drop anchor in such an iconic spot.

But, as fate would have it, our perfect plan hit a snag. We moored in what we thought was a prime spot, only to discover it was a forbidden area! To make matters worse, we were right in the middle of it, sticking out like a sore thumb. In our defense, we’d followed the lead of another yacht moored nearby, assuming they knew what they were doing.

Spoiler alert: they didn’t. Two wrongs don’t make a right, and we were both in hot water—figuratively and, as we’d later find out, almost literally.

Once we realized our mistake, we decided to relocate to avoid any trouble with the harbor authorities. That’s when the real drama began. As we attempted to pull up our anchor, it refused to budge. It was stuck, lodged 20 meters deep in the ocean floor.

For half an hour, we wrestled with it, trying every trick in the book—reversing the boat, jiggling the chain, even pleading with Poseidon himself. Nothing worked. With heavy hearts and a sinking feeling (pun intended), we made the tough call to cut the anchor free. Losing it stung, both for the cost and the hassle, but we had no choice if we wanted to keep moving.

With our anchor gone and time slipping away, we had to abandon our original plan to head toward Hyères, our intended destination. The clock was ticking, and our backup options were limited. After some quick deliberation, we set course for a new spot and ended up mooring in front of San Peire’s port. It wasn’t exactly the postcard-perfect scene we’d envisioned.

The mooring was exposed, and the conditions were far from ideal. The sun beat down relentlessly, turning the deck into a frying pan, and the waves rolled in all night, rocking the boat like a cradle in a storm. We spent the evening scurrying around, securing every loose item—plates, cups, gear, you name it—to keep things from crashing about.

Exhausted from the day’s chaos and nursing some anti-inflammatory meds for a nagging injury, I was grateful for the small mercy of being able to sleep through the worst of the rocking and rolling. The meds dulled the discomfort, and sheer fatigue did the rest. By some miracle, we made it through the night without any further disasters.

Today tested our patience, our problem-solving skills, and our ability to laugh in the face of adversity. We survived, a little wiser and a lot humbler.

Here’s hoping tomorrow brings calmer seas, better moorings, and maybe a touch of that St. Tropez magic we missed out on today!