Golf du Lion, Mistral, 40 knots...
the end of the vacation is approaching, whether Mistral or not, we have to head out, back to Cap d'Agde, leaving Port Leucate. The Golf du Lion lives up to its name once again.
Under reefed mainsail and reefed jib, we are making good speed at 40 degrees to the wind. In gusts, we repeatedly exceed 40 knots, we are pushing hard, yet we are still making 10 knots through the water.
Despite the joy of speed, it is also quite a lot of work and one must be attentive to every gust and steer into the wind. A test for both material and crew.
Spray fills the glaring, hot air. It burns on the skin. This is what the sea smells like in strong winds.
At Fort Brescou, we make a heave and stow the sails. The long harbor entrance always provides an opportunity to calm down again and makes the docking maneuver a relaxed conclusion to a trip.
On the promenade, the "landlubbers" stroll past the bars and cafes. Unaware of what it’s really like out there.
After a quick shower and in fresh shore clothes, we treat ourselves to an afternoon cocktail at the Mayflower, where there is no sign of the 40 knots. However, 40 Knots now accompanies me and seems to be quite a good companion.
No trace of salt to be felt, no harsh gusts, but it fits well and gives me a fresh feeling.
The freshness comes from the slightly spicy and floral notes, with a hint of woodiness coming through, perhaps also a subtle honey. But there is no trace of salt and/or sea. The spicy and woody notes fade over time.
I do not understand at all why Xerjoff presents this fragrance with the name 40 Knots.
40 knots (8-9 Beaufort) correspond to 74.08 km/h, that is quite an exaggeration. 80% of the unaccustomed seafaring population would be hanging over the lifebelt at the railing and would not want to smell anything anymore.
Nonetheless, I find the scent appealing.
In the Mistral at 40 knots at 30 degrees, it would be completely overwhelmed, whether at sea or in the harbor. However, it does well on the wind-sheltered promenade or beach bar, with a well-chilled glass of Minuity in hand.
Under reefed mainsail and reefed jib, we are making good speed at 40 degrees to the wind. In gusts, we repeatedly exceed 40 knots, we are pushing hard, yet we are still making 10 knots through the water.
Despite the joy of speed, it is also quite a lot of work and one must be attentive to every gust and steer into the wind. A test for both material and crew.
Spray fills the glaring, hot air. It burns on the skin. This is what the sea smells like in strong winds.
At Fort Brescou, we make a heave and stow the sails. The long harbor entrance always provides an opportunity to calm down again and makes the docking maneuver a relaxed conclusion to a trip.
On the promenade, the "landlubbers" stroll past the bars and cafes. Unaware of what it’s really like out there.
After a quick shower and in fresh shore clothes, we treat ourselves to an afternoon cocktail at the Mayflower, where there is no sign of the 40 knots. However, 40 Knots now accompanies me and seems to be quite a good companion.
No trace of salt to be felt, no harsh gusts, but it fits well and gives me a fresh feeling.
The freshness comes from the slightly spicy and floral notes, with a hint of woodiness coming through, perhaps also a subtle honey. But there is no trace of salt and/or sea. The spicy and woody notes fade over time.
I do not understand at all why Xerjoff presents this fragrance with the name 40 Knots.
40 knots (8-9 Beaufort) correspond to 74.08 km/h, that is quite an exaggeration. 80% of the unaccustomed seafaring population would be hanging over the lifebelt at the railing and would not want to smell anything anymore.
Nonetheless, I find the scent appealing.
In the Mistral at 40 knots at 30 degrees, it would be completely overwhelmed, whether at sea or in the harbor. However, it does well on the wind-sheltered promenade or beach bar, with a well-chilled glass of Minuity in hand.
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