43° 10'.4 N 06° 32'.2 E, Cavalaire Sur Mer, France
On arrival in Cavalaire we were told there was no room in the marina. The one and only time we have ever been turned away from a decent size marina. A mooring buoy in the bay was offered, which we took, our plan was to stay only one night then head to Isles D’or (Islands of Gold) the following morning.
The weather had other plans.
The winds picked up during the night. Our guests didn’t sleep so well, a mix of heat and rocking. Our plans to head off to the islands were scuppered.
Plans changed, we needed to get off the rocking boat and explore on land. With the strong winds blowing we decided to double up our mooring line before we left the boat. The best decision we made that day.
Captain jumped in the tender, I walked to the bow and immediately felt the blood drain from my face. The mooring buoy had sheared its way through our mooring rope. A few measly threads between our safety and Silver Paws wrecked on the rocks. If we hadn’t checked, if we had gone to lunch, Silver Paws would have been no more. Our home, our travels, all wrecked.
New rule; always two mooring lines!
We felt physically sick. There was only one thing for it, we went for a long, lazy lunch in the sun. Tamaris Beach gave us a cracking table right on the front of the seaside terrace. We had ordered copies amounts of chilled Rose’, a speciality of this area of France and talked the afternoon away.
The next day, tattered rope in hand, I tried to explain to the marina staff that there rusty mooring buoy was a hazard. I’m not an experienced sea dog yet, but we’ve never had a rope shear at all, let alone right through. They didn’t care.
Lesson heard loud and clear.