A glimpse of island life

I have been spoilt this year - at least four trips to the sea, each time short visits but all the more memorable for that.

I'd tried to book an interesting looking cabin in someone's garden on the île-d'Arz a couple of months back but being full on holiday season it was unavailable. Beginning of September, la rentrée has happened and suddenly everything quietens down dramatically. This particular island has around two hundred and fifty permanent residents but on an average high season day the number can rise to anything around two thousand - non residents plus the permanent folk - unless they've had the foresight to let their place and escape somewhere else. 

Rucksack packed and dog in tow we arrived on the foot passenger ferry (no cars for visitors) half way through the afternoon and walked to our rustic lodgement situated in a small village a couple of km from the main 'bourg'. 

Old veg brought from home made into a fry up, following exploration walk, a drink in the local very  interesting bar/epicerie, and we were ready to sleep.

The following morning started with my sea-swimming obsession. No one about and a large curving beach to ourselves. The tide was a fair way out so walking on a soft sand carpet was part of the swim; water lovely temperature and sun rise through the pine trees bordering the coast. Perfect. A top five swim of this year.

Mark's first sea dip of the year

The day passed in bike rides, more exploratory walks, investigation of the main town (big village) and its very beautiful and incredibly ancient church (C12th); naps, excellent lunchtime crêpes, an equally excellent fish dinner in the embarkment point hotel - L'escale - with its bay views.

It was a small glimpse into island life, and I have many questions to ask a local next time about how you might get a new mattress/furniture generally/breeze blocks/gas bottles/ anything really thats more tricky to carry than a couple of carrier bags of purchases. There's only one small shop too, and I couldn't see much signs of food being grown there, so the passenger ferry and larger ferry for the vans and cars that we did see are obviously total life lines all year round.

There were unused wells dotted about all over the island from days when water didn't appear from a pipe line from the mainland - I did look this up as I couldn't imagine there was a huge aquifer under the island - did I get grade E in A level geography . . . yes.

Also, incredibly! there was no boulangerie on the island . . . a bit sad as I learned from a museum visit that each hamlet had its own bread oven, wheat was grown and there was tide-powered water mill - now reconstructed but not used. Perhaps this will change in the future, the mill wheel once again turning, bread ovens constructed. 

The old tidal mill

There are several other islands in the Golfe de Morbihan, including the largish île-aux-Moines 

(monks), and small ones, some inhabited, others not. Future trip . . . I hope so.

                                                        Dog, less keen on ferry than me

                                                         camera on panorama mode on a boat

Sea-fix

My getting in the river being curtailed due to low water level meant I was keening to swim in a big expanse - preferably the sea. We are two hours or so away from the Atlantic coast which is doable in a day or better still overnight to experience multiple swim episodes. 

Having a 'superhost' B and B voucher at my disposal I searched around my favourite bit of the coast - Le Pouligen. Short notice and the only logements available were either 'sleeps twenty with wave machine- pool and gym, etc, or stuff that looked like a dentist's waiting room but with less allure. 

Pornichet seemed to have a bit more choice so I opted for a friendly looking room in someone's house, used my voucher and booked it, to then be told that she'd forgotten to update her calendar so the room was taken. I'd by then reserved my train journeys so hunted around again and found . . . a boat. Slightly disconcerted about lack of loo on board - only because night trips up a pontoon gangplank might be a tad worrying when half asleep - but I booked it and thought what the hell, I'll pee in a bottle.

wrong port

I arrived in Pornichet and wandered as I do without checking where the port was. Went the wrong way for a couple of miles, followed someone's instructions to then turn up at an expanse of tidal mud with boats lying drunkenly to one side. The sun had disappeared and the whole scene looked rather dystopian. Just as I resigned myself to thinking what an interesting experience it would be to sleep on a vessel as it gradually righted itself with the tidal swell my phone rang. The B and B host was wondering if I was lost - she'd kindly offered to allow me to board the boat some hours before the stated time. I described the muddy scene and she informed me that I was at the wrong port.

                                                                           right port

I hurried to where I could now see a host of masts and collection of 70s buildings and met her where I should have if I'd read her message . . . duh. This was more like it: all boats upright, gently swaying, orderly lines, and there it was, the smallest vessel in the port; a perfect little sailing yacht amongst a gluttony of huge plastic white ocean-going versions of camper vans. The host was obviously in a hurry, probably due my mal-orienteering She showed me what to do and what not to do, gave me the code for the loo/showers/pontoon gate and left.

Interesting (?!) bit of mural and 70s port architecture - whole place is up for a makeover from September 25

B and B boat

next door's boat with its own boat

A couple of hours later I was hooked on the whole thing, even if I wasn't actually going anywhere on the sea. I'm pretty sure in the last life I must have been a fisher-person or similar, living on the Bretagne coast - my name (Hardy) if after all, Breton! 

I explored, swam, ate in the local fish café, napped with the gentle sea sway; and the following morning woke with the dawn, swam at 6:30, dried on the deck with a cup of tea brewed in a mug and then walked/sketched all day returning to doze when required.

                                                                    best swimming place 

Due to the generous host I didn't have to leave until later afternoon making the whole mini-trip feel like a few days. Found myself checking how much it costs to moore a boat, just in case we ever wanted to really downsize. Not sure where the piano would go however.

The sea, the sea

One of my favourite Iris Murdoch tomes, and one of my favourite places - anywhere at the sea really, our nearest being the lower part of the Brittany coast.

Needing to escape the never ending scraping-off-wallpaper-and-putting-paint-back-on current section of my life, I booked a train ticket, made use of my B and B voucher and went for a couple of nights to a cheapy B and B in Le Pouligen - very slightly less ostentatious than its neighbour, La Baule Escoblac, - seaside town. The house was conveniently situated between the wonderful wild coast - where there are no eateries, etc, and the town. I walked a ridiculous amount on both days and my feet told me all about it on the last evening. Swimming was the main objective however, and I indulged as much as possible - the coves and beaches still relatively quiet, and very few people taking the water as it was deemed to be cold . . . not to a hardy Hardy, used to swimming in rivers, ponds and the off the coast of the UK.

Salt still prickly on the skin from the last dip, I reluctantly boarded the train back home knowing I will have to return soon for the next fix.

  La Baule-Escoublac - great architecture spotting-town

Abandoned renovation project on the spectacular wild coast near Le Pouligen - according to a local, it was started years ago, without planning permission . . .

One of the wonderful 'splayed' pines of that coast