It’s a fine day. The wind chases the clouds and the whole crew disembarks. Objective: shopping! We get out the fold-up trolley – a must for all sailors – and set off in search of a supermarket.
A few kilometres further on, we have already crossed half the town by following the Canal de Sète, a favourite place for sailing and water tournaments, and at last we find the Monoprix supermarket. I think about the return trip…
Which, in the end, isn’t so bad. It’s late afternoon already and the surrounding small painted houses wink at us. The call proves too tempting, and we go for a stroll among the painted shutters and sheets that are drying in the wind. Everything looks amazingly like it does in Greece, and we sense the unity of this Mediterranean people so close by. The same houses, the same smiling eyes, the same severity in daily life. The olive tree civilisation has been making sheep’s eyes at us for 5000 years already.

At the end of the street, nets fill out under the Tramontane, at the end of a little port smelling of dried fish, olive oil and paint. This is the Port aux Nacelles. Seagulls struggle to keep their balance on the poles holding the nets. We hope that the wind will have dropped by tomorrow morning so that we can leave. But if by chance this doesn’t happen, Sète and its gems beckon us and a stopover day is always enjoyable…
We meet an Austrian family who are sailing “Ayrolle”, identical to our little barge, moored just behind us. The two boys have found an ingenious way of getting water from the small fountain on the quay, using adhesive tape. We make the most of this to fill up too. The water trickles away quickly, and it’s so nice to have a hot shower in the mornings… In fact, this is the only thing we need to be careful about. Thanks to the batteries on board, if the boat sails for four hours a day, we can manage in complete independence: lights in the evening and classical music or Led Zeppelin, whatever takes our fancy, on the hi-fi. It is 8pm. A leg of meat is browning gently in the oven and we have an aperitif in the square… What bliss!

We are awake early, even if we would have liked to stay in bed a while longer! But Christine’s recommendations were very clear: the wind must be lower than 3 on the Beaufort scale to be able to sail on Etang de Thau.
So, we will spend the day in the marine cemetery and visiting the town.

The Canal de sète	The "cimetière marin"

Death is certainly not a happy subject, but since we can’t escape it, then it would be as well not to discourage people from visiting cemeteries… I’m not a specialist in them (but believe me, there are such people!) but I really believe that a visit to this place blessed by the gods, between sky, sea and hill, is well worth the effort of climbing the slope right to the very top. The sun warms the white stone of the monuments, some pine trees offer refreshing and sweet-smelling shade and the pale blue sea dancing with reflections, in the background, evokes the peaceful eternity of the passing time. Paul Valery lies here, together with less famous people. As for Brassens, he is buried a few hundred metres further along the ledge, in the cemetery of Le Py, for paupers…

In town, where the living are, colours are everywhere, with vibrant no-parking terminals lining the pavements. The shady streets go down towards the port and the Canal de Sète amidst painted shutters and balconies in bloom. On the road we can see the oldest church in Sète: the Décanale Saint-Louis, built in 1702 as a tribute to the patron saint of the town.
Leaving the sheltered Mont Saint-Clair and rejoining the two bridges at the entrance of the port, we’re forced to face facts: the wind hasn’t dropped. We start to fear we’ll have to stay inland for some while to come, as does the skipper of “Ayrolle”. We are busy sharing our thoughts when a little old man wearing a blue jumper and matching hat appears, carrying a plastic sack stuffed with old crusts.
“Set off very early, before the wind picks up. That’s what us professionals do when it’s windy.” At these words, the old fisherman finishes throwing the crusts of bread to the seagulls and heads home.
I am convinced that this man spoke to test the adventurous spirit of the tourists that we are. So I rang the harbour master’s office (+33 (0)4 67 46 34 93 – +33 (0)4 67 74 38 05) just to check… A charming voice with a sunny accent suggested that we leave at daybreak. “The wind usually picks up around 9am…”. I go back to my new Austrian quay buddy and we decide to set off as early as possible the next day, around 6.45am. We need roughly two hours to cross the lake, that should be enough.
Late in the afternoon I glance automatically at one of the bays of the square and notice a funny-looking boat. A sort of catamaran apparently built by the ancient Egyptians. I go out to look at the boat and, surprise… the two bridges are up! This is a rare sight: it can only occur twice a day, upon request to the harbour master’s office, and interrupts the railway traffic on one of the bridges and the road traffic on the other.