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.
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.
