Plage d'Aber and a drive up towards Brest

After leaving Pont Croix where we visited the Lavoir (laundry pool) we headed up towards the general area of Brest, enjoying people, boats and cows along the way.

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.

Poor fella.

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.

It was both an interesting and attractive harbour below her house with rather rusted reminders of sailing days and, probably, war days. A few photographs later we wandered, with our bag of four apples, back to Milly the Motorhome, stopping briefly for a lovely, cooling ice cream.

Here's a selection of scenes we enjoyed on that drive, including some wonderful views of this white-sailed yacht.

Finally, after a week of much-needed relaxation and pleasure, we returned home, through Douarnenez, our nearest "big" town, catching this lovely view from across the bay.

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!

Next trip was to be England, Wales, Ireland, Northern Ireland and back to England. In winter.

My art website : https://lyndacookson.blogspot.fr

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Pontivy to the Coast of Vannes

Yay! All duties and medical appointments, except for a checkup in a few days time, done and dusted. Finally time for us to become people again, to begin to enjoy each other's company again ... and to train the dog!

Saturday 5 May 2017
Driving for only a few kilometres a day is our plan. A hop and a skip down the road from Pontivy, next to a lovely spot at the canal-side in Gueltas, amongst cool trees and with a view to an old long boat moored on the opposite bank,is where we spent our fourth night.

St Gueltas

This is likely to be a heavily image-rich blog post, hence the image collages.

Feeling the need to just chill the stress of the house move out of our bones, and to sit and read for a day, we moved ourselves to the more formal aire at the sports ground in Gueltas, so we could service Milly's tanks, and spend another peaceful night.

Our hopes for staying there two nights were dashed by hordes of little eight-year-old fellas coming to play football on the sports field, and rushing around us playing cops and robbers while they waited to kick ball. That was fine except for the fact that Bridie wanted to play too and our peace was smashed into smithereens by her excited barking. We decided to move.

No problem. Just a kilometre or two down the road was one of my favourite overnight stops at St Samson, a tiny town on the banks of the Nantes to Brest canal. On the opposite bank is a nicely tarred tow path so we're often waving to friendly cyclists and walkers as it's a popular and well-used facility. We stayed an extra day here and I did what I haven't done in years ... spent the day reading a book!

Chill out day was putting it mildy ... I was so chilled I forgot to take photographs so these pics are of St Samson on a previous trip in 2016.

St Samson

7 May 2017, Sunday

On Sunday morning we spent time getting Bridie used to playing with her squished blue football whilst on a long lead. There's a suitably big piece of ground next to the small harbour at St Samson, with the usual French boules pitches, and she can run fairly free. She's a nervous German Shepherd (as most of them are) and folk often don't realise that some dogs are more afraid of people than the other way around - so we do our best to keep her away from too many scary folk and make sure she's on a lead all the time. A 30 foot lead, linked to a couple of normal length leads, gives her quite a ball throwing distance to run around in.

On a Sunday afternoon drive, we followed our noses of curiosity and visited the town of Le Chez, 10 kilometres or so down the road from Rohan. Rohan is the very close neighbour to St Samson.

We parked amongst the motorhomes in the designated parking space but there were way too many folk staying there for our comfort. A walk into the centre of the town confirmed that no restaurants or bars were open, so we decided to simply enjoy the views along the riverside and head back to Rohan.

As you can see from the images below, Spring hadn't quite arrived

and the days were cool and darkish

Alan has long wanted to try out a certain creperie (pancake restaurant) in Rohan, so we did just that for our evening meal. It was okay but nothing really to write home about and I am sad to admit that I don't remember the main meal at all. Yummy desserts though ... Alan chose chocolate and I chose apple ice cream.

Opposite the restaurant, as we were walking along the tow path alongside, we spotted this really ancient building which could well have been standing since medieval times. These are the gems which make travel so worthwhile. Their calm survival through good times and bad is very comforting I find.

Ha ha, I'm going backwards in time here. Also before our nondescript meal, we stopped at a roadside cafe to enjoy the late afternoon sun with a beer in our hands. As with every pub in small towns, there is a local who, possibly out of loneliness, befriends everyone who sits there. This pub was no exception and I snapped a sneaky pic of the friendly fella who picked a rosebud from the flower bed to present to me. I have no idea what he was saying to me and he has no idea how his lovely action was balm to my still wounded and tired soul. Here he is, guarding the door to the cafe with the white rosebud lying appreciated next to my ice cold beer. I wonder if he realises he's a healer!

8 May 2017, Monday
This is the day we really started heading south and began to feel freedom blowing through our hair. We could have made it down to the coast in one day, but travel is all about the journey and the stops along the way. About halfway between the home we had just left and the coast of Vannes, we pulled in to the Aire de Pompas, between Meucon and Plescop, for another restful night on the road. This aire really is a roadside picnic spot, enough off the road for privacy from the traffic and with a view out to the rolling countryside.

9 and 10 May 2017, Tuesday and Wednesday

A short and visually interesting journey along some coastal bits, brought us to St Gilda's for a couple of chill-out nights. Potential wild camping spots that we found were not the best, so we checked in to the municipal campsite for a couple of nights and found a parking spot right near the gate to the beach. As the camping season was just beginning, there was loads of space for us to relax in.

Our two days were filled with beach walks, one of the best sunsets I've ever witnessed, hours of reading and more hours of not having to think about anything in particular. The most valuable rest we've had in years!

Bridie was a scream on her first visit to the beach. The Atlantic was literally lapping on the shore pretending to be a lake, with "waves" no more than an inch or two high by the time they reached the sandy bits. This being Bridie's beach maiden run, and herself being a typical take-no-chances German Shepherd, she jumped about six foot high each time a ripple-wave broke against the beach. Finally I was able to encourage her to follow me out until the water touched her tummy, but she was not a happy girl until she was safely back at Alan's side on the sand.

 "Uh uh. Can't go in there. I'll drown!"

"I'm off. Not for me thanks."

Her first-time experience didn't end there though. We sat away from the water on dry sand just to soak up the atmosphere and the sounds ... and she discovered that her passion for digging had free reign. She was digging frantically, getting about six or eight inches down before moving on to a fresh patch from which to fling sand at us. Every now and then she'd look up at me with a frantic look in her eyes as if to say: "I can't cope Mum! There is so much digging to be done here how am I going to do it all!" Those memories are even more precious to me than the breath-taking sunset that evening.

I'll end here, before our trip took us back up north for a few days again, with some of the many, many photographs I took at St Gilda's. Here are our moments, in no particular order ...

 Just one shot of the many I took of That Sunset

 Don't miss the moon!

 The frantic digger

 A few pics now of the beach walk and coastline

And back up north we headed ....