Field note

The mistral and the plan B

The mistral is the island's north-west wind, and it is the least secret thing about a sea day here. It does not arrive unannounced: forecasts show it building days ahead. Treating it as bad luck is a choice. The more accurate word is a scheduling fact.

What the wind changes

When it builds, the coasts stop being interchangeable. Stretches that face it become hard work — anchorages roll, swim stops shorten. Sheltered stretches, at the same hour, carry on as if nothing were happening. The mistral rarely cancels a sea day; it relocates one.

And because the forecast reads it days in advance, the switch never has to be a surprise. By the time the flags go stiff, the decision has been available for days.

The plan B question

This is also the cleanest way to judge anyone organising a day on the water. Before you commit, ask one question: if the mistral is up on our date, what happens? A serious answer already exists — it names the other coast, the other anchorage, the table that replaces the table. A vague answer means the plan B will be improvised at the quay, at nine in the morning, with everyone watching the whitecaps.

The difference shows in the mechanics of the switch. Done well, it is a single decision carried out everywhere at once: the boat on a new route, the lunch shifted, the driver on a new clock, and one message telling you the day's new shape. Done poorly, it is three phone calls you make yourself while the morning drains away.

The wind, then, is not the risk. The risk is an operator who meets it for the first time on the day itself. The forecast gives notice; the only real question is whether anyone was reading it.