Here's the route we were following
One of the other beautiful spots we stopped at, probably at lunch time, was the Chapelle Sainte Marie du Menez-Hom at Plomodiern. (See map)
I always try to photograph whatever text is displayed to explain the history and character of places like these, so here it is - and I love the part where the builders get forgiveness credit to get them out of hell earlier.
Above and below is a selection of the photographs
I took in the Chapel. Stunning place.
And finally we reached Plage d'Aber (which is not far from Crozon) where we spent a week high above the bay with a stunning view of sunrises and sunsets with all the life that happens in between.
And here follows the pictorial story of the lonely fisherman
who didn't know when to stop talking ....
He spots his prey from far away.
Two innocent folk, just mussel digging ...
Bonjour! he cries and they respond
So happy to find a fellow digger ...
He tries to tell them of better pickings
Where he found his bagful today ...
But he talks too long
and they start to lose interest ...
Until, alas, he's alone again.
Above and below are some of the
stunning views we enjoyed for a lazy week.
War-time bunker on the hill.
Too many of these sad-memory-ridden structures
in this area
Craggy island which you can walk to at low tide
This was almost hide tide
Low(ish) tide for walking out to the island
One of the views from our perch on the hill ... the back view
The back of Milly showing you what a stunning pitch we had.
I so enjoyed this crab fisherman. Well, he was probably very well equipped to be catching a lot more than crabs. With a choice of three nets, at least two containers to take his catch home in, and another important-looking bag slung over his right shoulder, to complement his sturdy shoes (maybe wellies) and waterproof dungarees, he was set for hours of fun. I think that beard had something to do with his strong sense of character too ... and I bet if I had got close enough, those eyes would be twinkling with anticipation. I didn't spot him coming home from his fishing adventure, but I'm sure he got fine pickings. As you can see, he had timed it for the tide to be well out.
This photograph inspired a little oil painting which is now in Gallery 1608 in Bushmills.
My favourite crab fisherman wasn't the only one thoroughly enjoying fishing in this bay. I spent hours watching people - as you do - and photographing them telling their fishy stories. There was even a photographer taking advantage of the lovely weather over the bay.
We enjoyed our own walks along the beach, loving the fact it was so large we could let Bridie off her lead for a good run and a paddle every now and then. And there has to be an image here of our beautiful girl, all sandy from snuffling for critters ...
I'm a huge rock fan ... and I don't mean the music either ... although I love that too. I have solemnly promised Alan never to collect another rock because I have so many at home in our little garden, collected from South Africa, Namibia, Ireland and France, we'll soon be living in a rock garden. On this trip I collected rock photographs, especially loving the red rock so special to this area. You'll see it alongside my one and only rock photograph (out of many!) on the collage below. There's also an image of the nasty bunker set into the side of the cliff. I really don't enjoy all the signs of war you find here.
Taking Bridie for her "walk-a-bouts" Alan spotted a laid-out rock sculpture of a dinosaur, but his excitement was short-lived after we decided it was a very modern sculpture indeed! The stones hadn't sunk into the ground even one millimetre.
One day the wind was just right for sail sports. I'm going to guess that these guys (below) were para-surfing. There were quite a few of them, not all in the pic because it's quite a wide bay, and none of them went too far out, prefering to stay where the waves were breaking. By my South African (Durban) standards these are very small breakers but these guys were having great craic altogether.
About mid-week, getting well into the lazy ways of enjoying our spot, we felt a twinge of guilt at not having traveled around more to see the area we were in. We put our "best spot on the hill" in jeopardy and set out for the day, heading towards Brest. Cities are not really our thing, but the getting there and tootling around them is fun.
We took a drive out to the end of the peninsula south of Brest to the lighthouse at Camaret-Sur-Mer. It was a lovely drive but we decided not to stay there as the aire was pretty full of other cars and motorhomes without shade or the view we'd so far been spoilt with. Nevertheless I had an excited South African moment when I spotted what we would call a thatched roof rondavel.
On closer inspection, as we rounded the bend, I discovered it was about two stories high and was a lookout tower. (Above, before I discovered its height!)
Tootling along and going past the picturesque harbour at Roscanvel we spotted this across the road from one of the houses overlooking the water ... basic translation : "Please help yourself. Too many for me."
Of course we weren't going to pass that one up. We parked a little way down the road just out of site in a parking lot at the end of this road ...
... and wandered down, hoping to chat to the kind person who had put those apples out for the taking. Unfortunately she was very involved in chatting to another couple so we just left a business card I had on me, with a Merci beaucoup! written on it.
Here's a selection of scenes we enjoyed on that drive, including some wonderful views of this white-sailed yacht.
To end with I simply have to add a photograph of Bridie, whose nose just happens to be at the exact height of our table in Milly .... and Bridie just loves butter! She can smell it a mile away and that foot-long tongue of hers becomes uncontrollable, lapping at thin air because that darned butter is always just out of her reach!
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