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

The ePlan : https://onlinepresenceassistant.blogspot.fr

Another feast ... this time Oysters

Here, at the Oyster Farm at Larmor-Baden on the coast near Vannes, is the best example of the Breton flag (regional flat of Brittany) flying that I have been able to find. I found a bit of info about the design and meaning here, if you're interested in flags ... http://fotw.fivestarflags.com/fr-bz.html

Motorhomes are permitted to stay overnight on the big gravel parking lot at the back of the oyster farm and when we arrived - fairly early as we like to do - we were the only folk there and had our pick of parkings. I like that. I love the space to breathe. Especially in warm weather. As soon as seat belts are released I'm back there opening the sky light, windows and doors to flood the fresh air in.

I have an Irish story which indicates that this fresh air addiction may well be another South African weirdity. Some years ago, good friends of ours from Pietermaritzburg in Kwa-Zulu Natal, where I used to live, came to see us in Ireland. On their way to Connemara, they diverted to Cork for interesting ancestoral reasons. The first thing they did on entering their room at a B&B was to fling the windows wide open - as you do. The landlady rushed in, closed the windows, saying: "I know you're South African, but we like to keep the windows closed to keep the bees out". Yeah, well, habits die hard and I often think of that incident with a chuckle.

We thought we were going to be the only ones there for the night ... ha ha ha. This is how full it ended up being ... that's us squished in the middle. Not really our scene to stay in such an overcrowded space, but the pull of a fresh seafood dinner was too strong!

And there were more motorhomes on the other side of the parking lot too ... I think nine in total parked up for the night. Eeek. France is a very motorhome-friendly country and folk sure make good use of their hospitality.

During our afternoon walk-around we sussed out the restaurant built on the edge of, and a wee bit into, a walled-in oyster pool.

Being eager beavers - and hungry to boot - we arrived early so got the pic of tables. The clouds were looking a little dicey though but we took our chances and settled in for a long and delicious meal.

Just as the delicacies arrived and were arranged on our table, the rain started in earnest and there was a mad scuttle of all the diners to move food and drink to tables set out beneath an awning ... quite likely set up for just an event! It reminded me of the Johnny Cash movie where his brother and himself had a little saying in their youth, something like: "I saved my feathers for just such an occasion".

So what do you think of this as a seafood platter? We loved it! Those little blighters in the middle, in the red dish, were a blighter to extract to eat though. We finished the meal with a traditional sweet of Far cake and caramel sauce, a Breton speciality. I found this desciption, and image, online: "Far Breton is a traditional cake or dessert from the Brittany region in France. Its base is similar in composition to a clafoutis batter: a flan-style eggs-and-milk custard with flour added. Prunes or raisins are common additions."

Before the rain started, the tide was out and this was our view of the oyster pool:

Then the tide started coming in and the water began to spill over:

Heavier and heavier, until you wouldn't know there was a pool there.

The pics below are just some of the equipment used at the farm. All fairly self explanatory. Sadly there was no facility for learning what was used for what and how.

And so, next morning, we were off fairly early, heading back to St Gilda's for the last of our lovely much-needed rest days. Even Bridie got good at resting and sleeping. When she wasn't draped on one of the front seats waiting for whichever of us had left the motorhome, she was as chilled and cool-dog as we were ... even resting her head on the steering wheel.

Our next reason to start the ignition was to move in to Melody, the leisure home we have bought, on the west coast of Finistère, as our travel base.