Follow our Track @ A Clio or a protest?
Ignorantly, certainly to this author, the French aren’t particularly known for their manufacturing and construction industries. France, and its outposts, which are all for the most part stunningly beautiful, is singularly know though less so admired for its national sport of protesting. A distant second and we have a basket full of stereotypicals. Fashion, Wine, Baguettes, food more broadly, a bicycle race, the foreign legion (Légion étrangère), rugby perhaps? But nothing much that touches the Construction and Manufacturing nobility.
One notable corner piece of French industry is the motor vehicle industry. The flag carriers, Renault, Peugeot & Citroën, are wildly popular domestically with a market share of just shy of 40% of total annual sales, though they aren’t nearly as popular outside of the country. Indeed, I have it on very good authority that the underpinning of Britain’s limp toward Brexit wasn’t centered around the popular banners of sovereignty and immigration control, rather it was apparently Boris’s deep-seated dislike of the Clio!
On the surface there is little else that springs to mind when pondering the subject of French Industry. But dig a little, and you quickly discover a wildly erroneous perception of the countries’ manufacturing and industry sectors. A wonderous, if not a little expensive, TGV Network, a matrix of Nuclear Power Plant for which neighboring countries mired in a renewable energy overreach are forced to come knocking begging for some top-up energy. A robust agricultural sector, and indeed a surprisingly significant aerospace industry. Toulouse, or otherwise colloquially known as La Ville Rose, hosts Airbus’s headquarters and final assembly lines.
French Boat Building Industry – An international behemoth
Nouvelle-Aquitaine, the same administrative region within which Toulouse rests, also plays host to a significant blue water cruising manufacturing complex. And some of the names, certainly to those of you in any way connected to the boating industry, are easily recognisable. Lagoon, Catana, Fountaine-Pajot, Jeanneau, Bénéteau, Dufour, Prestige Yachts, Nautitech, Bali Catamarans, and quite a few more. You quickly appreciate that France is peerless on the world stage of the yachting and recreational boat manufacturing complex. It’s quite stunning, really, how a single country hosts such an array of boat designers and builders. Why is this?
Well, the country is bordered by the North Atlantic Ocean on its west coast, and the Mediterranean Sea on half of its southern boundary, which hints at a maritime influence. Post-WWII, government funding, and a desire for mass participation led to the development of accessible, egalitarian dinghy designs which later influenced global markets. Large-scale GRP (fiberglass) boat production made sailing more affordable and popular in France, and globally. The country has a unique and passionate sailing culture, where professional sailors are as famous as movie stars. This enthusiasm is fueled by iconic and prestigious races such as the Vendée Globe and the Route du Rhum transatlantic race. Media coverage, unlike in many other countries where sailing is a fringe sport, French national and municipal news outlets provide extensive year-round coverage of sailing events. With the requisite ingredients needed, and the timing of those parts coming together, France has clearly capitalised and today are the pre-eminent manufacturer of mass production and boutique sailing boats.
As good as they are at boat manufacturing though, I still think they’re better at protesting!
Bonjour Dan & Max
And so it seemed appropriate that after our first shake-down cruise after the dry-dock we had our friends from France, and coincidentally the very same administrative region where most of the countries boat manufacturers ply their craft, and moreover, from where Luna Blu was manufactured, come and visit us in Phuket for a couple of weeks sailing. We welcomed Dan and his younger son, Max, onboard. Assigned them their respective cabins inside the portside hull, toured the boat highlighting the essential beer and soft-drink locker, released lines and were soon headed out for sea.
Max is a keen fisherman, and had travelled with his lucky rod, reel and tackle box. So it wasn’t long after departing the dock that a line was in the water and anticipation of a catch began to grow.
I am unashamedly a poor fisherman. Onboard the boat we have 2 rods, reels, a net, a gaff hook, and sufficient tackle. Unfortunately, what we don’t have is the heart to kill, nor the stomach to gut and clean what is killed. It’s quite pathetic. I’m confident that on a longer passage, if food was becoming scarce that harvesting a fish from the ocean wouldn’t be a problem, but when it comes to sport fishing, I do tend to lose the will! We have assigned tasks on the boat, not a hard blue and pink delineation, but tasks are shared. Zippy and I have agreed that because of her Buddhist beliefs, I shall be the killer of a fish, and she would then gleefully set about cleaning the thing. It’s a very reasonable trade i think, in theory. Though In practice i can easily envisage myself running to the furthest part of the boat from a landed fish in the hope that someone else (Zippy) might do the killing for me!
The waters of the Andaman Sea are notoriously heavily fished by a flotilla of local fishing boats, pots and nets set on feeding the country’s populations heavy seafood appetite. This makes nighttime navigation in the region treacherous as many of the fishing boats, and the nets left in the water, don’t have AIS (Automatic Identification System) and thus can’t be seen on electronic navigation charts. It also makes catching fish, at least for this self-declared amateur, all but hopeless.
In the 5 years I’ve been sailing on Luna Blu in and around the Thai waters, and with a fishing line in the water, I have heard the exhilarating sound of a reel running on only three occasions. On one instance i caught myself a plastic bag, and on the two other occasions, having forgotten to reel in the line before arriving at an anchorage and subsequent maneuvering, I had the line swept up by one of my propellers.. On one of those occasions the line breached the underwater saildrive seal and resulted in Luna Blu having to be beached and repairs effected. We have had no luck whatsoever when it comes to fishing.
Fish On!
I’m uncertain if it was Max’s keen expertise and guile, Dan’s unbridled confidence, Zippy’s eagerness to cook a seafood dinner, or the small matter of my having taken myself quietly off station for a visit to the latrine to deal with matters, but all of a sudden the knowing buzz of a line running enveloped the cockpit of Luna Blu. What followed was a cacophony of the pounding of heavy footsteps, yelling, screaming, and abject panic. FISH ON!
Given my lackadaisical approach to fishing, borne out by historical failures and a broad pessimism that no fish would ever be caught, we were completely unprepared for an actual fish! A suitably sized cutting board had to be found, the gaff hook and net had to be retrieved from the bowels of the sail locker, and importantly, a suitable knife capable of imparting the requisite incision needed to affect a speedy halt to life needed to be gathered! Dan was eagerly leaning back on the rod, rotating forward while reeling in then affording the animal some line to run, reeling in, letting line run, and so on. This went on for some time, and this was most assuredly a fish, and a big one. Max was by his father’s side, the two of them getting louder and louder as each barked instructions at the other. I was certain that whatever fish had elected to take the lure, was now desperately trying to get itself off, out of fear of having its ear drums, or whatever the equivalent is for marine life, pierced by the noise on the boat! It was mayhem.
Eventually this monster was landed. The very first fish to be hauled aboard Luna Blu, and she was indeed a beauty! Mirroring the distinct lack of preparedness, what followed was a series of agricultural attempts to kill it. Each attempt seemed to just make the bloody thing angrier. The fish was on the boat, then back in the water, then back on. It’s tail flailing wildly. This was a comedy bought about simply by not being ready. Nonetheless, after some time, the beast was dead and the requisite trophy photographs taken and a determination that Dan and Max had secured a handsome 110cm Spanish Mackerel! Then the butchering process could begin. Sushi, ceviche, fish curry, pan fried fish steaks, we had the lot and it was magnificent!
Chapeau!
We ate this thing for days, there was so much fish. To the extent that some of the smaller cuts were eventually sent back to the sea. But we reveled in the very first catch for the boat.
Otherwise days were spent touring the Andaman Sea islands, coursing the typical tourist path that we enjoy when guests come to visit.
- Ko Yao Noi
- Railay Beach
- Ko Lanta
- Ko Muk
- Langkawi, Malaysia
- Ko Lipe and the Butangs
- Ko Rok
- Ko Racha
- Ao Yon / Phuket / Yacht Haven
Max made good use of a knee board that we’d recently purchased. Being towed on the back of the dinghy. He even bravely attempted to impart some of his French language onto Zippy, with varying degrees of success. Nights on the boat were filled with much merriment and tall stories. We enjoy having guests come to visit and share some of the experiences that we enjoy ourselves!
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