I admit it. I’m a snoop. Have been all my life. It’s one of the reasons my career in communications was such a great fit for me. I’ve always wanted to know the back story, the reason why. The five Ws and an H set no boundaries for me. I always had one more question. The various specialists I worked with laughed at me, but loved that I wanted to know more about what they knew and how they did their jobs.
The advent of google was just a life-changer for me. Boy I wish it had been around years before. I’ve always like research and now I can do at least early stages in my comfortable chair accompanied by a cuppa coffee (or perhaps even a glass of red wine).
But there’s a reason i’m waxing enthusiastic about my character flaw. And a bit of a back story.
Our first trip to France back in the mid-naughties (2005 to be precise) we went to Provence. Stayed in Les Arcs sur Argen, a beautiful hill-side medieval village just inland from the sea. Our rental home was a four story medieval house complete with a corkscrew stairway enhanced by a rope banister. The steps were a challenge. And not very safe in the dark after a dinner accompanied by a glass or two of wine. We are in France after all.
One of our day trips from Les Arcs took us to Monaco. We arrived just as they were dismantalling a road race set up. Don’t know what race, but not the Grand Prix as that is in May and we were there in October. We walked the harbour, drooling over the sailboats and motor yachts, before choosing a waterfront restaurant for lunch (where I had the world’s worst Croque M’sieur ever).
But while the food was forgettable, the people and sight-seeing were top-notch. We indulged ourselves shamelessly watching the beautiful people strolling waterfront. All tanned, sleek, beautifully dressed. And being land-lubbers, and having never cruised, we did what we always did when in a sea port, when we finished eating, we walked the marina gaping at the hotel-sized yachts. And our jaws got plenty of exercise as we jaw-dropped our way around the marina.
The biggest of these was the Lady Moura. It’s white-uniformed staff….sorry crew…were visible boarding through the crew entrance. We were gob-smacked by the size, appearance, and general superlativeness of this yacht. Learned when we got home that it is the 9th largest yacht in the world. It was sleek, and glistening white in the Mediterranean sun.
Another back story: years ago we had sailed for three days out of Victoria with dear cousins. At the end of that three days I vowed that the next time I sailed, it would be in a boat big enough to need a crew, which I would not be part of. I would have by this time, found a delectable body and it would be appropriately garbed in a bikini and would be lounging in the sun, sipping the champagne Bellini I discovered a few years later in a trip to France to a different location. Lady Moura fitted that description perfectly. I could see myself lounging langouresly. I better find a better word, I can’t spell that one.
We did gawk. Tried to brush the hay from our hair and not look too much like tourists. Failed.
Fast forward to 2020. I don’t know what I was researching, but something made me google the Lady Moura. And guess what? She’s for sale. By the original owner. So I got to indulge my snoopiness. I didn’t waste any time getting my fingers to do the walking (old telephone ad for phone books — OMG how old am I? Telephone books?). Anyway these fingers did the walking and these eyes did the gawking and I got to satisfy my old curiosity gene.
I’m going to reveal another character flaw. I have a mean streak. I do things deliberately. For example, I once referred to the Queen Mary as a boat. This was in front of someone who knew a lot about boats and how each was to be called. Ship, cruise liner, motoring yacht. Now I knew the difference, but I enjoyed pushing his buttons so I continued to call it a boat. I am going to do the same thing here. I know the Lady Moura is a Luxury motoring yacht. But that seems pretentious and way too much trouble. So simply put, she’s a boat.
So on with the story…
I beg your indulgence. Let me tell you about this boat that cost more money than I can even imagine. And to be clear, I don’t know what the price tag is, because it will only be revealed to a qualified buyer, and I can’t meet the criteria. I can’t afford to sail her out of any given port, so I doubt I could raise a mortgage.
Where to begin? Well, at the beginning: when she was launched she was considered to be the most expensive and innovative yacht in the world. The world. That’s a big yardstick! Back in my youth I was a competitive Highland Dancer. And every competition I danced against the girl (now woman) who reigned as world champion for years and in fact had a tartan designed and named after her. That’s the closest I have ever come to world class. And I got awfully tired of losing to her, so my competitive career was shorter than what otherwise might have been the case.
But I digress. Back to the boat. Lady Moura has seven decks. One deck is dedicated to “family” housing with a massive master suite and six other suites. Total, 2600 square metres. Using rough math, this is approximately 26,000 square feet. Big ”house” doncha think? Ten times bigger, maybe 12 times bigger than my house!
And what a party you could have. The other decks will house in some luxury up to 26 guests. And there’s space for 72 crew and staff. Well, someone has to look after all these people, right? And the decor in all these quarters is heavy on marble, silk and luxury fabrics.
Arrivals and departures of the rich and famous? No problem. They use the boat’s helipad. Much more convenient than having to go through an airport and then having to endure the drive to the harbour. It’s sometimes hard being rich. But these little perks make life so much easier for them.
Lady Moura also features a movie theatre/disco complete with a DJ room, an owner’s study, medical suites for guests and crew, two galleys, a bakery, two sets of laundry facilities, an indoors pool, a gym and spa with sauna. So many duplicates. Of course you can’t have staff/crew and guests mixing in the laundry facilities. Even if it is just the laundry that might get mixed.
Oh, right. I forgot. The pool has a retractable roof. That puts it right up there with Montreal’s Olympic stadium and Rome’s Colosseum.
And it has six hydraulic gangways, an innovative deck designed for easy boarding from water levels and a guest elevator. Looks like if you are a member of the crew, you have to run up and down the seven decks’ worth of stairs.
And if this luxury isn’t enough, Lady Moura can go transatlantic. She has a huge range and can travel 8,000 nautical miles on one fill-up at speeds of 17 knots. I don’t know how many gallons or litres the tanks take to be filled. And I don’t know what 17 knots are in miles an hour. I should have googled that while I was at it.
I wouldn’t want to have my credit card out paying for gas.
Are your fingers itching? Are your eyes longing to see? Take a look. https://camperandnicholsons.com/luxury-motor-yacht-for-sale/lady-moura-blohm-voss-1990?gclid=Cj0KCQjwl4v4BRDaARIsAFjATPmF2sJnqYh9Dwp2Mu6imuvYF_ch7lJ-wfcgQwQ-PXrB3JjXXS20gRgaAt3wEALw_wcB
I did. And I have to say it’s a life style I can’t even begin to imagine.
This is a front-on shot of the Lady in question taken on our day in Monaco. A view from the side wasn’t possible.
