Navigation #23 Cap Taillat-Bormes-Les-Mimosas, slow sail and fresh fish

This morning, we bid farewell to Cap Taillat, setting our sights on Bormes-les-Mimosas to seek shelter from forecasted wind gusts that promised a restless night if we stayed put.

My heart was set on leaving early—not just to beat the weather but to give us plenty of time to explore the charming port and the medieval village of Bormes-les-Mimosas, with its cobblestone streets and flower-draped houses.

The plan was a four-hour sail, but by casting off at dawn, we hoped to make the most of the day. Unfortunately, Mother Nature had other ideas: the wind was nowhere to be found.

Gliding across the glassy Mediterranean was serene, almost meditative, with the boat cutting gently through the still water.
But serene doesn’t always mean speedy, and without a breath of wind, our progress was painfully slow. It was like sailing in slow motion, the coastline creeping by at a snail’s pace.

With no wind to propel us, we decided to moor temporarily after a couple of hours, dropping anchor to wait for the breeze to pick up after lunch. The pause gave us a chance to soak in the surroundings—the endless blue, the distant shimmer of the shore, and the quiet hum of life on the boat.

Nico, ever the opportunist, seized the moment to try his luck fishing. His patience paid off when he reeled in a gleaming Oblade fish, its silvery scales catching the sunlight.

We celebrated the catch, already dreaming of a fresh seafood dinner. But our moment of triumph was dampened when we noticed a problem with the windlass. It was acting up, groaning and hesitating as we tried to raise the anchor. A finicky windlass is the last thing you want on a sailing trip, and we made a mental note to investigate further once we reached port.

After lunch, the wind finally decided to show up—and it came with a vengeance. Strong gusts hit us head-on, turning our leisurely sail into a battle against the elements.

The boat heeled as we tacked into the wind, and those 20 nautical miles to Bormes-les-Mimosas felt like an eternity. Four hours later, tired but relieved, we arrived at the bustling port. We weren’t the only ones seeking refuge—other boats crowded the entrance, waiting patiently for the harbor master’s dinghy to guide them to their berths.

The organized chaos of the port was a stark contrast to the open sea, but there was comfort in knowing we’d secured a safe spot for the night.

Once moored, we wasted no time turning Nico’s catch into a delicious meal.
The Oblade, was the perfect reward for a long day.
As we savored our dinner, the trials of the windlass and the headwinds faded into the background. We called it a day, grateful for the safe arrival, the fresh fish, and the promise of exploring Bormes-les-Mimosas tomorrow—hopefully with fewer surprises from the wind or our equipment!