Honfleur to Le Havre

The end of the road!

Saturday 27 August

It was blowing hard the next morning, and fatally, we decided to go anyway.  The lock was windy and turbulent and once we’d got tied up the lock master shouted at us to move forward as there were other ships coming in, so we had to untie and move forward – a very bad move.  Two big ships came in and tied up opposite us (so we needn’t have moved forward).  When the gates opened, all hell broke loose.   This violent sea came crashing into the lock, the two big boats went out causing even more turbulence and we bobbed like a cork in a bath.  Our starboard bow light was snapped off the pulpit but otherwise, miraculously, we escaped harm, and managed to get out of the lock, trembling.

The wind and sea state were far worse than we’d imagined.  (Is it so long since we were at sea that we’ve forgotten everything?)  There was no question of putting the sails up and we continued motoring, but after about half an hour the engine conked out.  Lovely!

We figured (correctly) the problem was that the fuel was not feeding through.  The violent motion must have caused air and dirt to get pushed into the system and it had blocked.  We put a sail up and started tacking slowly back and forth within the channel and then set about the uncomfortable business of engine work, trying for the next eight horrible hours to resolve the problem.  We changed the filters and bled the system but obviously did it incorrectly, because we just couldn’t get it to work and didn’t have enough spare filters to do it again.  There was diesel sloshing around on the floor and all over Mike but it wouldn’t go through the motor!

The motor had stopped at about 12 noon and by 8 pm we despaired.  We knew the forecast for that evening and the next day were similar if not worse and it seemed we were never going to get the engine going.  We had long since abandoned any idea of going to Ouistreham and had decided to stay close to Le Havre.  We figured that we could get ourselves to the harbour entrance (we had the wind and tide pushing us in anyway) and then needed someone in a strong dinghy to bring us into the marina.  I telephoned Garry who texted me all the numbers he could find for the marina or the harbour master but there was no reply to any of them – it was too late.  Finally, Garry phoned the French Lifeboat service –‘ Les Sauveteurs en Mer’, who telephoned us.  We were a bit horrified as our lives were not actually in danger, but there seemed no other option.

I told them our idea that we could get to the entrance if someone could meet us but they said No, we should stay out at sea and someone would come.  At 9.00 pm they came in a large steel motor boat, threw us a tow rope which we attached and they then proceeded to drag us along the coastline for an hour.  It was a horrible trip being dragged through these waves head on and I finally telephoned to ask what was going on.  They said there were big ships coming out of the harbour and it would be dangerous to enter so we had to wait.  Well, Mike had been watching the harbour entrance and saw no big ships except one just before we finally got towed in!!

Once just inside the harbour, still in very turbulent waters they brought their large steel hull alongside Forever, one officer boarded us and they tied the two boats together.  We bounced violently against their hull, smashing our teak toe rail and the gel coat all along our boat on the starboard side.  We feared the mast might come down and I heard one of their officers express the same fear.  We put every fender we had on the one side but they were utterly useless.  I gave up trying to hold one of our big fenders between the boats and just sat uselessly, clinging onto the deck and watched my boat being crushed.  It was the worst feeling in the world and we were completely powerless to do anything.  Finally, after what seemed an interminable time (perhaps ten minutes) someone produced a real giant mega-fender which held the two boats apart, but it was far too late by then.   The damage had been done.  And anyway, by then, we had moved into less turbulent waters, which is surely only when the two boats should have been brought together.  We did, after all have the entire enormous harbour to ourselves – hadn’t we been dragged along the coast for an hour for that very reason???

They now brought us into the marina, the skipper took an inordinately long time to deposit us against a pontoon, they tied us up in an alarmingly haphazard and unprofessional manner and then invited us aboard their boat where they proudly presented us with a bill for €690 (two hours at €345 per hour) for being ‘saved’.  They were at great pains to explain about how they’d had to wait for some big ships to leave the harbour which is why it all took so long and also informed us that we had been in ‘extremely dangerous’ waters at the time of rescue as there are sandbanks and rocks in that area.  Well, yes, it gets to low depths at very low Spring tide, but this was not Springs and we’d never had depths of less than 14 feet.   We did know where we were, though they tried to imply that we didn’t.  When we mentioned the damage to our boat, they gave that Gallic shrug and said ‘don’t worry, the insurance will pay!’

Needless to say, we didn’t have €690 lying around in cash and they wouldn’t take a card, so were told to write to the President of the society and get his bank details so we could make payment.  We promised to do so, thanked them politely for their services and wished them goodnight.  They pointed out the shower block and told us we could get in without a key as it was manned.  It was after 11 pm by then, so having washed as much diesel as I could from the floor, we set off on the long walk for the shower block, met a couple of chaps on the way who gave us the code to enter the showers, which were not manned.  (Friendly chaps, typical sailors, they wanted to linger about on the pontoon in the middle of the night and chat about our little drama but we were too tired and cut them short as politely as we could.)  When we got to the showers we discovered one needs to purchase a ‘jeton’ for a ten minute shower!  We walked back, but now didn’t have the code to get back onto the pontoons so Mike climbed the fence and let me through.  Returning to the boat we had a brief wash, a long drink of water and fell into bed.  Neither of us had eaten all day and Mike had drunk almost nothing.

That qualified as the worst day of the trip – absolutely.  And there we were, so close to the end of this journey which has been awful at times but quite wonderful most of the time.  The journey is now definitively over – we will not go on to Carentan as planned, but will get the repairs done here and then leave Forever on the hard a little way up a canal at Tancarville.

In the meantime, here we are, still parked where they left us at the end pontoon of the marina at Le Havre – at low tide the pontoons are surrounded by mud banks, which is so weird.   The seafront area of Le Havre has to be one of the ugliest in the world – a long jagged row of uniform pale grey apartment blocks, but once you get behind that it is an attractive city.

The damage to Forever is horrific.  This photo shows just a small section.

Following a recommendation I’d found on the internet, we contacted Stephan Reiset at Chantier Naval du Havre et Manche (CNHM) who speaks excellent English and he and a carpenter colleague are quoting on repairing the damage.  There is a hold up on the teak which has been ordered but will only arrive after 26 September.  The marina here is rather expensive, so, lucky for us, Stephan wants to do the work at his yard on the Quai de Brésil, where he says we can moor and live aboard for nothing.  Whew on that one.  We are moving to this inner basin on Monday.  He ordered plenty of Volvo fuel filters for us which arrived on Thursday.  We did a double change of both pre-filter and filter to ensure that all the dirt was out of the system and the motor now works perfectly – hurrah.

In the meantime, I telephoned our insurers Pantaenius who advised that with Third Party there is nothing they can do for us, but our policy includes free legal aid and we can sue.  Our darling friend Jean Pierre (Gayatri) who we met in Port Saint Louis and who is a lawyer has agreed to handle things for us here and has written a letter to the President of the Society of Sauveteurs en Mer.  I have no great faith in the legal system and taking on an organisation like this won’t be easy, but JP knows his stuff and seems confident. 

People from all corners of this vast marina stop by to have a look at the damage and have a good old natter (all very good for my French).  I love sailors – they are usually rather resourceful people who like to do all their own work and as a result they all consider themselves ‘experts’ in most fields.  They aren’t, of course, but it is remarkably easy to rope in assistance when you need it.  We get a lot of sympathy and have heard a few other horror stories about the Sauveteurs – they have a very bad reputation here which is a shame because in principle it is a good service.   

On Friday night there was a party of about 16 people on a couple of neighbouring boats and we were invited along for aperitifs.  Our hostess, Eveline, who spoke very good English, told us that this large group go every year to the Caribbean where they hire yachts and cruise for two or three weeks – they have been doing this for ten years now.  We think it must be fun to belong to such a strong group of friends who all share the same hobby.  (Well, we do have such a group of buddies but they are scattered in all corners of the earth.)  On Saturday morning they left on four boats to go to Dives-sur-Mer, which is just west of Deauville – just for the night and then back again.  I think they are brave as there was fog in the morning. 

Our friends Garry and Hilary (March Hare) texted to say they were in Carentan on Wednesday (lucky toads), St Vaast on Thursday and were leaving on Friday for the UK, but had had to turn back to Cherbourg because of heavy fog.  Nasty stuff.

Sunday 4 September

This weekend there is a festival in honour of the sea.  After dinner last night we walked to the centre of town by the fishermen’s market – there was an outdoor concert where we listened to some excellent rock music by a band called ‘Red Lezard’, fun stalls and games for children, restaurants and bars often with a small band of live music, and maritime displays.   The rain held off and it was fun, though very quiet and civilized and, to our surprise, it all came to an end at 11pm.

Today there was a procession of boats in the Avant Port and a benediction was made to the sea.  Unfortunately, it was cold, grey and windy and the photos are not as pretty as they might be, plus my camera only catches a small portion of the port.

The summer is well and truly over, autumn has gusted in and our River Sailing has come to an end.  Despite all our troubles, we’ve had a fantastic time.  The canal/river trip is wonderful and a fabulous way to see the interior of France though I personally wouldn’t recommend the south to north route for a sailing boat.  Hire a barge.

As young Stephan (whose handsome face bears scars from a serious road accident) quotes: ‘Only those who do nothing don’t get hurt’ - a French expression.