On the edge of the port of Marseillan is
a small beach with a colourful, often deserted,
children’s playground and a
café inhabited by the fit and young who come to train and enjoy cable skiing, where they are hauled on a wire out through the shallow,
still water of the étang,* creating a satisfying spray
before they turn right round and return in an equally dramatic watery fashion.
Apart from the buoys that protect their
path there a few motor boats casually tethered. And dangerously near the
shallow shore a small yacht is anchored, its sails folded like the wings of a
perching bird.
A family group in shades of pink and red
are picnicking close by on the beach, keeping an eye on their craft. Two lone
women, one topless, lie separately, sunbathing and reading for half an hour
before packing up and departing.
A lone man – tall and tough – arrives on
a gleaming motorbike in search of a swim. He wades out and, finding the water
never reaches above his knees, resorts for a while to floating on his back. Then, towelling
his hair, he strides back up the beach, flings himself back on his motorbike
and roars off to find a more swimmable beach.
Barney is sad when the fun stops. He loves the stick and makes quite a
business of burying it safely before he
is encouraged to come back up the beach towards us Once he reaches us this tranquil dog who
rarely barks or loses his rag barks loudly, saying to D. ‘Let’s go back, get my stick and play some more! Please.’
* Etang de Thau. ‘Is it a lake; is it a sea, was
it pioneered by Mother Nature or pioneering ancient engineers? For centuries
historians, scientists, wise men of the south have put forward theories as to
the birth of the Etang de Thau. Most agree that the headlands of Sête and Agde
are the remnants of two volcanic eruptions that spilt fiery foundations into
the Golfe de Lion.’ So says Laurence Phillips in his beautifully written guide
How to be very lazy in Marseillan
 |
We Were Here |
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