We've just discoved that the marina at le Foret Fouesnant, where we are at the moment, has wireless internet access. So I am sitting here in Kalessin's cockpit, under our canopy, looking out at the brilliant blue water in the marina, for the latest blog update. Which is nice.
This is an enormous purpose-built complex, where all the buildings and surrounding houses are all part of the marina. It's a bit soulless, but is also very sheltered, and has every possible facility on site including two large chandleries.
After some discussion it looks unlikely that Mark, my brother in law who hoped to do the Biscay crossing with us, will be able to join us. We're still hoping, but in the meantime we will pootle down towards La Rochelle from where we can make a shorter crossing to Santander (200 miles as opposed to around 300 from here to Gijon). It feels easier and more comfortable to stay in France, where we do at least understand the basics of the language and are getting to know the drill in the marinas, than to venture 300 miles across open sea to a country we don't know very well.
In the interests of doing this more successfully I have just invested 60 euros in the French edition of an English pilot book which covers the whole of this Atlantic coast much more effectively than the pilot book we already have. If I could have got the English language version I would have done, but sadly it looks as though I'd need to order it and then wait 10 days in the same place for it to arrive...
Guy heads home in just four days and I think his patience with us and the boat is running out. He is very cross with us all and spends a lot of time in his cabin growling. He is normally very dependent on the company of his peers so has done superbly to put up with us for all this time. Perhaps we have done superbly to put up with him too. We'll be taking him to Nantes airport from the station at Lorient but hope to spend a day or two n the Ile de Groix before we get to Lorient, which is another post WW2 bombing concrete city like Le Havre and Brest. Churchill has a lot to answser for.
Family holiday territory
Today we're in Benodet - a whopping six miles from Loctudy. Benodet is a well-organised resort with a beautiful river, the Odet. We’ve been here before (see below), and we took the petit train which played a Benodet song, which we’ve been singing for the past eight years. Yesterday we saw the train but it was silent. Today we splashed out a ridiculous amount on taking the train and heard the song. Hooray!
I'm sitting in a hotel lobby where we have expensive but fast wi-fi access. No French keyboards, hooray!
I'm sitting in a hotel lobby where we have expensive but fast wi-fi access. No French keyboards, hooray!
Wednesday 19 July
Audierne and Loctudy
From Camaret we headed to Audierne, through the terrifying Raz de Sein – another deadly tidal race. It forgot to be terrifying on the day we went through – as instructed, at slack water, with very little wind and brilliant blue skies (see below). We allowed so much time that we were able to sail for part of the way.
At Audierne most people anchor or pick up a mooring buoy at the river mouth but Guy felt strongly that he wanted to be alongside, so we headed up the river to the town marina a couple of hours before high water. This was the source of some friction, as Sam didn’t really want to leave the anchorage, which was airy and a lovely place to swim around the boat, but didn’t want to say so. The entrance to Audierne was quite tricky, and of course the little marina was full so we had to raft up three deep. When we left the next morning Guy threw a wobbly because he’d wanted to stay another night. Not a big success, really, although Audierne is a pleasant little fishing town.
From Audierne to Loctudy, which is lovely – although the entrance is rather scarily shallow. For the first time since Treguier we were greeted by a man in a dinghy and shown to a berth, which made us feel very welcome. There are beautiful views up and down the river and its islands from the marina – the only downside is that it’s a 1km walk to the village and the beach. The most bizarre thing about Loctudy was that we realised we’d been there before – on a complicated family holiday in the late nineties, when we rented a house for two weeks at La Foret Fouesnant, just along the coast, and had Sam’s mother and brother to stay with us for a week. In case we had any doubts, we opened the Rough Guide to Normandy and Brittany, which I’d just discovered at the back of a shelf on the boat, and a receipt for a meal for four from Loctudy, from 6 August 1998, fluttered out.
Loctudy has a big fishing port which you walk through on the way to the village, so we were able to buy ourselves mega-fresh shellfish – whelks, mussels and prawns - for dinner one evening. (The boys had chicken. Sigh. However, Guy did cook it, which was a huge positive).
Cooking is becoming a considerable challenge, as Ben doesn’t like cheese, fish, rice, French ham or salami, mushrooms or French bread, and Guy has now gone off seafood, doesn’t like most vegetables and doesn’t like bread much either. Currently the only foods acceptable to the whole family are cucumber, pasta, potatoes, tuna, frankfurters and pizza. Fresh food has to be stored on board in our small fridge, which is switched off if we’re sailing or at anchor. Shopping is also a challenge, because most French towns, as in the UK, now have their supermarchés on the edge of town, easily accessible by car but not by foot from the harbour. In Benodet, where we are now, it’s a 10-minute walk to a big Champion, where Sam and I went last night. It’s the first time I’ve been in a big supermarket for five weeks and it felt a bit overwhelming. These guys know their clientele though – at the back of the store is an exotic food section, stocking not just Chinese and tex-mex but also Marmite, HP Sauce and Typhoo tea.
The other currently interesting fact is that it’s very hot – 32 degrees by late afternoon. However, as I understand it’s equally hot in the UK at the moment, it’s hard to know how much of this is due to the fact that we’re 300 miles south of our home. Our canopy and wind scoop are earning their keep and we’re trying to get into the way of having a siesta after lunch rather than rushing around in the scorching heat.
Monday 17 July
Camaret
We enjoyed our day out in Brest – modern but interesting, with warships and weapons down in the port and lunch at a Subway (American-style long sandwiches) to keep Guy happy. In the evening Ben and I swam from the beach, where the sea had just come in over acres of baking sand and was really warm.
From Brest we headed very gently to Camaret. This was perfect, easy sailing: only 10 miles to cover, a gentle breeze in the right direction, tide with us, and flat, sheltered waters. Oh yes, and a baking hot sun. Bliss. Next time we get these conditions could be a while!
Camaret is a lovely fishing and tourist village which gets extremely full in summer. Arriving at 2pm on Sunday we were very lucky to take a berth in the central marina just as a French boat headed out of it. Even more luckily, no-one rafted up to us! There was a local craft fair running when we arrived which provided plenty of interest and atmosphere, a nice beach where we all swam, and we went out for dinner and had the obligatory assiette de fruit de mer – only a modest one with half a crab each, four oysters, a dozen langoustines, whelks, winkles and a few mussels.
above, Sam with potential restoration project...
I’ll leave Ben to describe the other main excitement of the evening as he was most closely involved. Here's a clue though:
From here we head through the next notorious tidal race, the Raz de Sein, and enter South Brittany proper. I’ve been checking my tidal calculations in my head for two days, but the winds are again quite light so we should be OK.
Pictures Morlaix to Brest
The 'Petit Pot de Beurre' cardinal mark at L'Aber Wrac'h
River at Morlaix
Underwater in Brest (in the aquarium)
Pictures Sark to Trebeurden
Maltese yacht aground on the sill in Trebeurden (all French people not there because watching the Italy match)
A lizard in Trebeurden...
...and Ben on top of the rock 'Pere Trebeurden'
Crab lunch in Treguier
Kalessin on Sark
Brest is best
We're in Brest and have finally managed to get internet access, so below is a long list of all the recent blog entries we should have published!
On Friday we went to Oceanopolis, an enormous aquarium and sea display right next to the marina in Brest. We feared that on 14 July it might be packed, and we dragged the boys out of bed before 9.30am (shock!) to get there before 10.30, but in fact it was quite quiet. We spent nearly five hours looking at the huge displays of fish, penguins, seals, seaweed and seals.
Apart from Oceanopolis, Brest doesn't have a huge amount to offer. It's very windy at sea, which is why we've decided to stay on for three nights. We're very sheltered here. Islands protect the outer bay, then a narrow inlet leads to an inland lake, the Rade de Brest, and the marina is tucked into a sheltered corner of the Rade, but it's still gusting up to 18 knots. Lots of fun for the hundreds of windsurfers and dinghy sailors who come here, but not all that many yachts have been out today. The wind has blown away my beautiful and expensive Turtle doormat which I foolishly hung on the rail for a few minutes. I am kicking myself, hard.
Wednesday 12 July
Moorings and anchorages
We spent a very peaceful night anchored in the river at Morlaix. There was a bit of swell initially which died down as the tide dropped. As ever at anchor I didn't sleep too well, so I was awake to check all was well when the tide tuned at 2am. It was stunningly beautiful - a full moon shining on the wide river, three or four lighthouses and half-a-dozen buoys flashing, tendrils of mist creeping out from the land, and absolute peace except for the occasional seagull.
From Morlaix we headed to L'Aber Wrac'h, a rocky inlet just before we round the corner to Brest. At L'Aber we're on a mooring (a buoy in the middle of the river) because there aren't many pontoon berths, and they were all full. This is also a lovely spot - it's been a hot day with very light breezes and the river looks blue and full of moored boats. Guy complained extremely vociferously when we arrived about not being on a pontoon, but being on a mooring gives him a chance to show off his rowing and outboard handling skills (he's the best in the family). He'll probably remember this as a great place and it's great not to be in marinas all the time.
Tomorrow we head around the dreaded Chenal de Four to Brest. We were planning to skip Brest altogether, much to the chagrin of the boys who wanted to be able to make dreadful Brest jokes, but although it's a modern city with the marina 2 miles out of the centre, it does have very good shelter and there are strong north-easterlies forecast for three days from Friday onwards. Possibly a good place to spend the 14 Juillet when everything will be closed.
Tuesday 11 July
Morlaix
Morlaix is up another river - the last in northern Brittany. The river here is totally tidal, so it's only navigable for two or three hours before and after high water. We managed to go aground just outside the town lock, when we met about 20 yachts coming out on the first lock opening yesterday evening, all hogging the middle of the river. Fortunately the tide was still rising and we got off again without much problem. The river is lovely, very French with chateaux and busy D-roads either side. I can't help feeling that this is what it would be like if we were going through the French canals to the Med instead of round the outside. I would be quite happy and Sam would be very bored.
Morlaix is also very pleasant - it feels a long way from the sea. It has an enormous rail viaduct running over the middle of the town, with below it a mixture of solid stone and medieval timber-framed houses either side of a deep gorge. The river must once have run through the middle of the town but the French have covered it with a couple of car parks and a roundabout.
From Treguier we made a fairly short hop to the marina at Trebeurden to sit out some strong winds. Trebeurden is a reasonably pleasant seaside town with some nice walks along the granite coast, but the main excitements while we were there were that France lost to Italy, and a Maltese yacht went aground just on or outside the sill which holds the water in the marina. This happened a year or two ago at Carteret, when they couldn't raise the sill and all the water ran out of the marina, damaging loads of boats (single-keeled yachts tend to fall over when there's no water to hold them up, and motor boats destroy their propellers on the ground). Fortunately the sill held at Trebeurden and we could all feel very sorry for the Maltese guys (while thanking our lucky stars it wasn't us).
From Trebeurden we ventured out rather hesitantly expecting unpleasant seas after the previous day's wind, but in fact although the weather was grey and cool conditions were quite pleasant. We spent three hours in the fishing harbour at Primel-Tregastel waiting for the tide to rise in the Morlaix river. I spend a lot of time worrying about tides here - not just the rise and fall (which can be eight metres at springs) but also the tidal streams along the coast. It would be nice to think that things will be better in Spain, but it appears that although there are no tidal stream atlases and very little information on tidal rise and fall in northern Spain, they still do have four or five metres tidal range. It's just a secret.
People have been asking us how we are all getting on together. The answer is pretty well, on the whole.
The bad side: Sam gets bad-tempered sometimes when something hurts or he's frustrated. I get nervous about weather, navigating through rocks, tides, and generally sailing anywhere which might be bumpy - and this makes me very irritable. Guy is a teenager and gets bad-tempered at regular intervals, but during his lucid periods is the nicest he's been for a long time. He has a fantastic capability to sleep for 12 or 14 hours and is then cross with himself when he wakes up because he thinks he's missed out. Ben likes to feel guilty about things and sulks if he's asked to do things a different way. He is also the only person on the boat who has to continue non-boat-related work (schoolwork) and this sometimes makes him grumpy.
The good side: Sam is endlessly patient, is a rock when I'm nervous, and assures me that we don't have to go anywhere if I don't want to. Ben is affectionate and loving, sings to himself when happy and comes up with endless creative plans for harpoon guns and catapults. Guy entertains us all with magic tricks, is indispensable for his strength and agility in locks and marinas, and fills the boat with bits of hair as he fiddles with his sort-of dreadlocks. I do the planning, navigation and cooking, and occasionally get around to updating the blog!
Friday 7 July
Up another river
We're in Treguier, which is about 10km from Lezardrieux by road but 25 miles by sea. It's a bit like going from Ipswich to Woodbridge in Suffolk - down one river and up another, with a need for a reasonable depth of tide over the bits in between, which means that you can never get it right all the way unless you anchor somewhere. In this case the wrong bit was round the outside of the notorious Les Heaux lighthouse, where we spent an unhappy hour or so failing to make headway against tide and a strengthening westerly breeze. By the time we got into Treguier Sam was tired and very cross, so we decided to stay here an extra night to recover. I think he had a few moments of wanting seriously to go home.
Rather surprisingly I quite enjoyed the crashing through the waves (perhaps because at that point the sun was shining and the sea deep blue) and at one point we encountered a bit of genuine Atlantic swell which Kalessin rode like a dream. Under those circumstances electronic instruments are a bit of a curse, because they show you quite clearly that although you may be making a respectable 4 or 5 knots through the water, you are pointing so far from your waypoint and being pushed back so hard by the tide that it will take you 4 hours and 43 minutes to cover 2 miles, despite using engine and sails. Fortunately something always changes - you change your waypoint, the tide turns, or you find an alternative route into your destination - but while they last those periods are sailing at their most depressing.
The river here is really beautiful - wooded slopes coming down to a deep, narrow channel, plus lots of home-from-home mud at low water - and the town is also lovely. It has a famous cathedral with a pierced spire and timber-framed houses in little alleys. It also has, just across the river, a famous chandlery, Co-Per, which sells all the solid bits you need to construct a boat, more fishing gear than I have ever seen in one place including 24 different kinds of catapult elastic (see below), and a whole floor of clothes. The other chandlery, right in the marina, has a fantastic display of old machinery including Seagull outboards and sewing machines for putting leather reinforcements on canvas sails, but sells only a huge array of clothes, and Camping Gaz (which is handy as our first cylinder ran out this morning). It doesn't seem to be possible to buy books or charts anywhere.
Ben and Guy have both been making catapults extensively using their deadly Opinel knives and other handy tools. Ben's wood comes from Robin Swift's hedge in Guernsey, his elastic from a fishing shop in Calais, and his leather sling is a shoe lining from the supermarché in Lezardrieux. Guy's wood comes from the trees across the river here, his elastic from Co-Per, and he needs a new bit of leather as the old one broke.
We have just returned from an excellent lunch at Le Hangar, which is the restaurant at the port. It looks very bleak from the outside, but inside the roofspace is filled with amazing hanging boats and other bits and pieces, there's an impressive open fire in a fireplace five feet above the floor (it's a grey drizzly day so this is very cheering), and the seafood was delicious. Sam had mussels (he always does), Guy had grilled mackerel which even he couldn't finish, I had an enormous crab and Ben had prawns and chips. We must be growing up, because I don't think we've ever all had seafood at the same time before.
Wednesday 5 July
Great Brittany
From St Peter Port we headed over to Sark (six miles) and spent a short night at anchor there in La Grande Greve Bay. Sark rises almost vertically from the sea and is somewhat grim and forbidding when seen from a yacht at anchor. All the roads and paths run along the upper ridges and are pleasant and airy, and must have superb views in good visibility. We rowed ashore and climbed around 350 steps to the top, and then went back again. Later in the evening the boys rowed ashore and found some extraordinarily beautiful crystals of orange quartz in a cave.
As ever at anchor I didn't really sleep too well - this is something I must get better at! The surf on the rocks sounds much closer at night, the anchor chain grumbles quietly to itself as you swing with wind and tide, and in Sark the cries of thousands of seabird continued after dark.
We left Sark around 2am to get the best tides down to northern Brittany. On consideration we could have left a bit later, but it was very good for us to do some night sailing, although a bit heart-in-mouth picking our way around the rocks we couldn't see. In these conditions a chart plotter is absolutely wonderful, because you can see exactly where you are all the time. It started to get faintly light by 3am, and by 4, when Ben came up to do an hour on watch, the stars were fading. We saw a great sunrise and reached the entry to the Trieux river by about 10am. Most of the time there was no wind at all, although for a while we saw a light south-westerly.
Lezardrieux is about eight miles up this peaceful river and is wonderfully quiet and sheltered. It's also full of English boats. Next to us is a big Westerly which comes from the same marina as us on the River Orwell. After careful deliberation we have decided to stay here for a second night, so that we can explore a bit more, stock up at the decent supermarket, and Ben can go to the hardware shop. From here we need to get to Brest somewhere around 17 July so we have time to make short hops to the many little inlets and anchorages along the northern coast of Brittany. It's very different from the kind of cruising we have done up to now and although we need careful planning for tides, there are lots of different options.
We've discovered a tiny beach just downriver and last night went down there for a paddle and to play with the Frisbee (our second - we managed to leave the first one on Herm). After about three passes Ben chucked the Frisbee in the sea and was forced to swim in in his underpants to rescue it. Then of course Guy had to go in too, and it was wonderful to see them swimming like seals in the warm evening light.
On Friday we went to Oceanopolis, an enormous aquarium and sea display right next to the marina in Brest. We feared that on 14 July it might be packed, and we dragged the boys out of bed before 9.30am (shock!) to get there before 10.30, but in fact it was quite quiet. We spent nearly five hours looking at the huge displays of fish, penguins, seals, seaweed and seals.
Apart from Oceanopolis, Brest doesn't have a huge amount to offer. It's very windy at sea, which is why we've decided to stay on for three nights. We're very sheltered here. Islands protect the outer bay, then a narrow inlet leads to an inland lake, the Rade de Brest, and the marina is tucked into a sheltered corner of the Rade, but it's still gusting up to 18 knots. Lots of fun for the hundreds of windsurfers and dinghy sailors who come here, but not all that many yachts have been out today. The wind has blown away my beautiful and expensive Turtle doormat which I foolishly hung on the rail for a few minutes. I am kicking myself, hard.
Wednesday 12 July
Moorings and anchorages
We spent a very peaceful night anchored in the river at Morlaix. There was a bit of swell initially which died down as the tide dropped. As ever at anchor I didn't sleep too well, so I was awake to check all was well when the tide tuned at 2am. It was stunningly beautiful - a full moon shining on the wide river, three or four lighthouses and half-a-dozen buoys flashing, tendrils of mist creeping out from the land, and absolute peace except for the occasional seagull.
From Morlaix we headed to L'Aber Wrac'h, a rocky inlet just before we round the corner to Brest. At L'Aber we're on a mooring (a buoy in the middle of the river) because there aren't many pontoon berths, and they were all full. This is also a lovely spot - it's been a hot day with very light breezes and the river looks blue and full of moored boats. Guy complained extremely vociferously when we arrived about not being on a pontoon, but being on a mooring gives him a chance to show off his rowing and outboard handling skills (he's the best in the family). He'll probably remember this as a great place and it's great not to be in marinas all the time.
Tomorrow we head around the dreaded Chenal de Four to Brest. We were planning to skip Brest altogether, much to the chagrin of the boys who wanted to be able to make dreadful Brest jokes, but although it's a modern city with the marina 2 miles out of the centre, it does have very good shelter and there are strong north-easterlies forecast for three days from Friday onwards. Possibly a good place to spend the 14 Juillet when everything will be closed.
Tuesday 11 July
Morlaix
Morlaix is up another river - the last in northern Brittany. The river here is totally tidal, so it's only navigable for two or three hours before and after high water. We managed to go aground just outside the town lock, when we met about 20 yachts coming out on the first lock opening yesterday evening, all hogging the middle of the river. Fortunately the tide was still rising and we got off again without much problem. The river is lovely, very French with chateaux and busy D-roads either side. I can't help feeling that this is what it would be like if we were going through the French canals to the Med instead of round the outside. I would be quite happy and Sam would be very bored.
Morlaix is also very pleasant - it feels a long way from the sea. It has an enormous rail viaduct running over the middle of the town, with below it a mixture of solid stone and medieval timber-framed houses either side of a deep gorge. The river must once have run through the middle of the town but the French have covered it with a couple of car parks and a roundabout.
From Treguier we made a fairly short hop to the marina at Trebeurden to sit out some strong winds. Trebeurden is a reasonably pleasant seaside town with some nice walks along the granite coast, but the main excitements while we were there were that France lost to Italy, and a Maltese yacht went aground just on or outside the sill which holds the water in the marina. This happened a year or two ago at Carteret, when they couldn't raise the sill and all the water ran out of the marina, damaging loads of boats (single-keeled yachts tend to fall over when there's no water to hold them up, and motor boats destroy their propellers on the ground). Fortunately the sill held at Trebeurden and we could all feel very sorry for the Maltese guys (while thanking our lucky stars it wasn't us).
From Trebeurden we ventured out rather hesitantly expecting unpleasant seas after the previous day's wind, but in fact although the weather was grey and cool conditions were quite pleasant. We spent three hours in the fishing harbour at Primel-Tregastel waiting for the tide to rise in the Morlaix river. I spend a lot of time worrying about tides here - not just the rise and fall (which can be eight metres at springs) but also the tidal streams along the coast. It would be nice to think that things will be better in Spain, but it appears that although there are no tidal stream atlases and very little information on tidal rise and fall in northern Spain, they still do have four or five metres tidal range. It's just a secret.
People have been asking us how we are all getting on together. The answer is pretty well, on the whole.
The bad side: Sam gets bad-tempered sometimes when something hurts or he's frustrated. I get nervous about weather, navigating through rocks, tides, and generally sailing anywhere which might be bumpy - and this makes me very irritable. Guy is a teenager and gets bad-tempered at regular intervals, but during his lucid periods is the nicest he's been for a long time. He has a fantastic capability to sleep for 12 or 14 hours and is then cross with himself when he wakes up because he thinks he's missed out. Ben likes to feel guilty about things and sulks if he's asked to do things a different way. He is also the only person on the boat who has to continue non-boat-related work (schoolwork) and this sometimes makes him grumpy.
The good side: Sam is endlessly patient, is a rock when I'm nervous, and assures me that we don't have to go anywhere if I don't want to. Ben is affectionate and loving, sings to himself when happy and comes up with endless creative plans for harpoon guns and catapults. Guy entertains us all with magic tricks, is indispensable for his strength and agility in locks and marinas, and fills the boat with bits of hair as he fiddles with his sort-of dreadlocks. I do the planning, navigation and cooking, and occasionally get around to updating the blog!
Friday 7 July
Up another river
We're in Treguier, which is about 10km from Lezardrieux by road but 25 miles by sea. It's a bit like going from Ipswich to Woodbridge in Suffolk - down one river and up another, with a need for a reasonable depth of tide over the bits in between, which means that you can never get it right all the way unless you anchor somewhere. In this case the wrong bit was round the outside of the notorious Les Heaux lighthouse, where we spent an unhappy hour or so failing to make headway against tide and a strengthening westerly breeze. By the time we got into Treguier Sam was tired and very cross, so we decided to stay here an extra night to recover. I think he had a few moments of wanting seriously to go home.
Rather surprisingly I quite enjoyed the crashing through the waves (perhaps because at that point the sun was shining and the sea deep blue) and at one point we encountered a bit of genuine Atlantic swell which Kalessin rode like a dream. Under those circumstances electronic instruments are a bit of a curse, because they show you quite clearly that although you may be making a respectable 4 or 5 knots through the water, you are pointing so far from your waypoint and being pushed back so hard by the tide that it will take you 4 hours and 43 minutes to cover 2 miles, despite using engine and sails. Fortunately something always changes - you change your waypoint, the tide turns, or you find an alternative route into your destination - but while they last those periods are sailing at their most depressing.
The river here is really beautiful - wooded slopes coming down to a deep, narrow channel, plus lots of home-from-home mud at low water - and the town is also lovely. It has a famous cathedral with a pierced spire and timber-framed houses in little alleys. It also has, just across the river, a famous chandlery, Co-Per, which sells all the solid bits you need to construct a boat, more fishing gear than I have ever seen in one place including 24 different kinds of catapult elastic (see below), and a whole floor of clothes. The other chandlery, right in the marina, has a fantastic display of old machinery including Seagull outboards and sewing machines for putting leather reinforcements on canvas sails, but sells only a huge array of clothes, and Camping Gaz (which is handy as our first cylinder ran out this morning). It doesn't seem to be possible to buy books or charts anywhere.
Ben and Guy have both been making catapults extensively using their deadly Opinel knives and other handy tools. Ben's wood comes from Robin Swift's hedge in Guernsey, his elastic from a fishing shop in Calais, and his leather sling is a shoe lining from the supermarché in Lezardrieux. Guy's wood comes from the trees across the river here, his elastic from Co-Per, and he needs a new bit of leather as the old one broke.
We have just returned from an excellent lunch at Le Hangar, which is the restaurant at the port. It looks very bleak from the outside, but inside the roofspace is filled with amazing hanging boats and other bits and pieces, there's an impressive open fire in a fireplace five feet above the floor (it's a grey drizzly day so this is very cheering), and the seafood was delicious. Sam had mussels (he always does), Guy had grilled mackerel which even he couldn't finish, I had an enormous crab and Ben had prawns and chips. We must be growing up, because I don't think we've ever all had seafood at the same time before.
Wednesday 5 July
Great Brittany
From St Peter Port we headed over to Sark (six miles) and spent a short night at anchor there in La Grande Greve Bay. Sark rises almost vertically from the sea and is somewhat grim and forbidding when seen from a yacht at anchor. All the roads and paths run along the upper ridges and are pleasant and airy, and must have superb views in good visibility. We rowed ashore and climbed around 350 steps to the top, and then went back again. Later in the evening the boys rowed ashore and found some extraordinarily beautiful crystals of orange quartz in a cave.
As ever at anchor I didn't really sleep too well - this is something I must get better at! The surf on the rocks sounds much closer at night, the anchor chain grumbles quietly to itself as you swing with wind and tide, and in Sark the cries of thousands of seabird continued after dark.
We left Sark around 2am to get the best tides down to northern Brittany. On consideration we could have left a bit later, but it was very good for us to do some night sailing, although a bit heart-in-mouth picking our way around the rocks we couldn't see. In these conditions a chart plotter is absolutely wonderful, because you can see exactly where you are all the time. It started to get faintly light by 3am, and by 4, when Ben came up to do an hour on watch, the stars were fading. We saw a great sunrise and reached the entry to the Trieux river by about 10am. Most of the time there was no wind at all, although for a while we saw a light south-westerly.
Lezardrieux is about eight miles up this peaceful river and is wonderfully quiet and sheltered. It's also full of English boats. Next to us is a big Westerly which comes from the same marina as us on the River Orwell. After careful deliberation we have decided to stay here for a second night, so that we can explore a bit more, stock up at the decent supermarket, and Ben can go to the hardware shop. From here we need to get to Brest somewhere around 17 July so we have time to make short hops to the many little inlets and anchorages along the northern coast of Brittany. It's very different from the kind of cruising we have done up to now and although we need careful planning for tides, there are lots of different options.
We've discovered a tiny beach just downriver and last night went down there for a paddle and to play with the Frisbee (our second - we managed to leave the first one on Herm). After about three passes Ben chucked the Frisbee in the sea and was forced to swim in in his underpants to rescue it. Then of course Guy had to go in too, and it was wonderful to see them swimming like seals in the warm evening light.
Up the rivers of Brittany
I have a long update and several pictures ready to post on my USB memory stick - but sadly, I can't use it from the Treguier Tourist Office PC where I am at the moment. So this is a brief update to say we made it from St Peter Port to Sark, thence uneventfully to Lezardrieux, and rather bumpily and slowly round the long corner (25 miles) to Treguier.
The rivers are lovely, wooded hills sloping to the water, and very sheltered. Lezardrieux was especially peaceful, Treguier a bit busier, and we had a wonderful seafood lunch here today.
From here we head to Ploumanac'h and Trebeurden, departing around 5.30am tomorrow - after our last trip we now know you must get the tide right along the coast, whatever it does in the rivers!
The rivers are lovely, wooded hills sloping to the water, and very sheltered. Lezardrieux was especially peaceful, Treguier a bit busier, and we had a wonderful seafood lunch here today.
From here we head to Ploumanac'h and Trebeurden, departing around 5.30am tomorrow - after our last trip we now know you must get the tide right along the coast, whatever it does in the rivers!
Hot on Herm
Today is probably our last whole day here in St Peter Port and we spent quite a lot of it on the very small island of Herm. Owing to issues like tides, complex navigation (lots of rocks), crowded anchorages and general need for relaxation we went over on the ferry. Even on a very hot Sunday, with hordes of people on every ferry, Herm is still very pleasant and very quiet except for the motor boats and jet skis roaring about. The water is stupendously clear and we went up to the north of the island where rocks are scattered randomly across white sand and the water was almost warm enough for swimming. Well, I swam about six strokes but the boys swam for ages. The air was hot so no-one got cold, and we had a great picnic.
Last night we had a barbecue at the home of Robin Swift and his wife Michelle. We worked out that he and Sam first met at school 54 years ago. Robin is a really great guy, he designed and built his own boat and every square inch of his house is filled with books, pictures and other items which relate to the sea. Michelle prepared an impressive spread of salads and puddings, Robin grilled the steaks, and we sat outside chatting until after 11pm when Ben was almost asleep. Among the other guests was a chap called Brian, and it turned out that his ex-father-in-law was Sam’s chemistry teacher at Tolworth Secondary Modern school in about 1952. I know about this chemistry teacher because he used to fill a weather balloon with gas from the Bunsen burners to demonstrate some crucial fact, and when he showed it to Sam’s class the balloon burst and the boys had a great time smashing all the windows with chairs. He was a German who actually had quite an interesting history having refused to fight in the war; he became a military geologist in Belgium, and lied about his rank when he was captures so he sp[ent the rest of the War in an officers' PoW camp.
Tomorrow we plan a very short hop to anchor off Sark and then to leave from there about 2am to head down to Lezardrieux in Brittany, so it may be a while before I can post again. If it all goes quite please don't worry!
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