Just a Perfect Day

Monday promised to be one of those perfect winter days, that when they arrive you have to grasp them before it's too late.We had driven to Sète the evening before, and as we crossed the Massif de Maure , with its view over the sea ahead, the sky turned a brilliant pink. But we were puzzled, for this was to the east. But as we began our descent towards the coast, the colours spread, until the whole sky, to the north, south, east and west was ablaze . When we arrived in Sète , these colours were slowly beginning to fade into night, and the sun was just going down behid Mont St Louis. It was a sight that I shall always remember . It promised that the morrow would be very special. As ,indeed, it was.

The plan was to spend the next day on our boat. Even in summer there had been very few perfect boating days, for the wind often blows in this part of the world. Moreover, with climate change, boating in summer can become oppressively hot. Monday, with its forecast of cloudless skies, and maximum winds of 5km per hour, sounded just perfect, as indeed it was. As we left our morring, the canal was like a millpond, as was the étang.

Our plan was simple. Just a short hop to Bouzigues, our favourite port, where life seems to stand still. But on the way B. made a diversion towards Sète. Keeping the red light to starboard , we entered the beginning of the Canale Maritime , which connects the étang to the sea. But we couldn't proceed much further, for this passage is crossed by five bridges . The first, Pont Maréchal Foch is only raised twice a day, as are all the other bridges in succession . This is a magnificent iron construction, and is the only electrified railway lifting bridge in France. As we turned back, we passed the tiny enclave of Point Court, which is a charming and unique part of Sète, and then headed directly north towards Bouzigues;

On the way across we passed the Phare de Roquerols. This is a beacon, painted yellow and black to guide the passage of boats. Occasionally, fisherman moor on the rocks there , but today this was occupied by a large number of gulls, and elegant cormorants. In summer , cormorants are a much rarer sight. .

Although Bouzigues seems tiny, it is the centre of an enormous oyster industry. Out in the étang, we pass hundreds of oyster 'tables' from which oysters are suspended on ropes. To the south, the ghost like spectre of the Pyrenees loomed above the water. This is the beginning of Bouzigues busiest season, for oysters are traditionally eaten at the feast of St Sylvèstre, on the night before Christmas. So, instead of spending money at one of the many restaurants that line the bay, we decided to buy our own oysters, and picnic in the sun on the back of our boat. Indeed, we had the perfect day for it.

We moored at the tiny 'port des plaisanciers,'and then took a stroll around the bay to where the oyster farmers have their sales outlets. On the way we passed some of the many restaurants where oysters are the main speciality. We also saw fishing nets out to dry.

After buying a dozen size 2 (medium) oysters, we decided to explore a little. Our server was also working on the oysters, putting them through a large machine which scrubs then clean. In preparation for Christmas, they were then placed into large mesh sacks. They will be placed back in the water to keep fresh, until the Christmas rush starts for real. Out on the water, small flat bottomed boats are going around the tables to harvest more.

It was just as well that B. had remembered to bring his new sharp, oyster knife with him. He schucked our oysters, and we sat in the sun to eat them and wash them down with the obligatory glass of cold ,white Picpoul wine from this region. All in all, this had been a perfect day.

Bon Apétit!