The real cost of fish
Yesterday afternoon, the 10th January 2018, was bright, sunny, and seemingly for the first time in months, windless.
For the members of Barfleur’s sailing school, it was the first outing of the season after the three-week Christmas break.
During that break, storm after storm rolled across the English channel and hit Normandy hard.
Although Barfleur’s harbour is relatively sheltered, it is open to the northeast and when there's a blow the local fishing boats are sometimes forced to take shelter in St.Vaast-La Hougue, several miles to the south.
For those boats that remain, the harbour in a strong northeasterly can be hazardous as the swell is fierce, particularly when there’s a full moon. Full moons mean spring tides, and these sweep in and jostle the boats on their moorings and against the quay; there has been much damage this season. A vintage crabber was scuppered, its bow pressed down into the water by the force of the waves.
So this sunny, balmy afternoon was a relief; it felt almost spring-like, and the local youngsters who come to learn to sail every Wednesday afternoon when schools are closed were in fine form, scuttling around the boatyard and desperate to be out on the water.
I’d decided to go out with them that afternoon, not to sail but to take photos and maybe interview the sailing instructor for a short marketing piece.
In fact, there was to be no sailing at all that day, for lack of wind. There were hardly any waves either, just a slight swell rolling in from the east – remnants of the monsters that, as recently as Monday, swept across the Baie de Seine and into Barfleur.
Camille Yvon, the instructor, had instead decided to take out some kayaks, and I persuaded him to take out the Zodiac too so that we could zoom around the bay. I wanted to take pictures and chat to him about the quality of the sailing and natural beauty of the place.
It was great to be out on the water, it felt almost warm in the winter sunshine and in the near distance several small fishing boats could be seen attending to their pots. A small yacht ventured out of the mouth of the small harbour, the first of the year.
As you can see from the photo, it's almost flat-calm
Barfleur is famous for its local, wild mussels, and is also one of the few remaining small fishing ports; lobsters, crabs, scallops, flat fish like turbot, plaice and brill, as well as sea-bass and cod are landed weekly and sold on the quay. Around five large and three small trawlers are based in Barfleur, as well as numerous smaller boats owned by the local retirees.
It hasn’t always been possible to buy direct from the boats, but the local fishermen, no doubt frustrated by the high retail mark-ups placed on their catch compared to the low prices offered to them at the market, now operate their own kiosks on the quayside and sell direct.
It’s a huge boon for locals like me, not just because you can literally buy fish that is only a few hours old, but also because the fishing families become friendly faces.
The fishermen here are tough and gruff; they have to be, it’s a dangerous trade and a hard way to make a living. Although the rewards for a catch can be huge (€10,000 euros for a night's work), the costs and the risks are too. The weather’s rough, the coastline is rocky and the tidal range is huge. What’s more, Barfleur’s harbour “dries” – that is to say it’s only accessible at mid and high-tide, so the fishermen need to time their sorties so that they can enter and leave the port in safety.
They are also at the mercy of legendry French bureaucracy. Local rules forbid fishing in the Baie de Seine except for certain days each week to protect local stocks. Notwithstanding this, British and Irish boats are free to fish in these zones, not being bound by French regulations. It’s a source of much friction and anger too. I’m told that the fishermen mostly vote Front National. And unlike us pleasure-boaters, they don’t wear lifejackets.
Notwithstanding Anglo-French emnity, they are always pleasant to me, and I sympathise with their frustrations. It’s a hard way to make a living.
It was a terrible shock therefore to hear the news, crackling across Camille’s radio as we dodged between the kayaks, that one of the local boats – the Belle Epoque, a small crabber – had been discovered, not a mile or so from us, circling aimlessly with its engine on, but devoid of life.
Later on, several lifeboats joined the search for the boat’s occupant, and as it got dark, the helicopter from the local airport joined in, the waters and houses strobed by searchlight. As I stood in my garden and watched it, I thought back to the peaceful afternoon on the water, and wondered how an accident could be possible in such benign conditions.
Perhaps the young owner had overbalanced when gathering in his pots, but in such a slight swell, that doesn’t seem likely. It’s extremely concerning as the chances of survival in the 8 degree water at this time of year are small.
It’s a salutary reminder why fish is so expensive and why we should be grateful to the men and women who risk their lives to bring it to our plates. There can’t be many professions so dangerous that death on a gloriously sunny day in perfect conditions is a real possibility.
Barfleur is in a sombre mood today. I’m praying for good news. And when you see the price of fish in your local market or supermarket, please think of the people who make fishing possible, and what that price can represent for them.
Post script: A body was discovered in the waters a few miles north of Barfleur in February and identified on 17th March 2018 as that of the Barfleur fisherman, Arnaud Bourdet, age 37. Condolences to his family and friends.
