28 August – 4 September 2021
On Sunday, I wake up from the remote yet distinct noises of the ferry that has obviously arrived very early in the morning as it is only dawning outside. I listen. I love these sounds. They remember me of my journeys to Ireland or Corsica back in the eigthies. The sounds are always the same: The announcements that you have to get to your car. The sound when a car drives over the metal planks that leads to firm ground. Tak-tak. I remember how tired I usually was after a night lying somewhere under a table or in a brightly by neon-light illuminated corner, listening the muted sounds of voices and clacking of dishes from the restaurant, being rocked to a somwhat light-alert sleep with the slow sideway move of the big vessel. Being on a ferry means leaving one place and arriving somewhere else. The ferry voyage to Ireland takes mininum 15 hours. The one to Corsika, given you take the night ferry leaving late at 23h in Italy, arrives very early at 6h or so in Bastia, just when the sun is rising. And after a short drive of maybe two hours you find yourself at your holiday destination, whereas in Ireland you have to adapt to the left hand driving.
The new crew has arrived. Alain, who has helped Denys a lot with his house in Port-Louis, and Muriel, a lady from Luxenbourg. After doing the usual weekly shopping we set off on Sunday after the two others got an extended introduction to how to handle the boat. I also listen from time to time but as I have already been on boat for a whole week I don’t feel inclined to listen to all the details again. Instead, I do some office work.
The night had been rather cold but now the sun is shining and once again we sail along the beautiful Ile de Batz just opposite the town of Roscoff. The wind is not strong at all and blows from right astern. We are not going anywhere. Either we have to goose wing (Schmetterling segeln) or hiss the spinnaker. Denys opts for the second. It is a lot of work but also good to learn about it as I have never sailed with the spi. The sail is beautiful. It is a very, very peaceful afternoon.
After a few hours I spot the lighthouse ‚La vierge‘ in the far distance. It seems only to be a needle pointing to the sky. I have seen the world’s highest lighthouse built from brick before, but only from ashore. ‚La vierge‘ is 82 metres high and was opened in 1902. I am absolutely ravished. I’m loving this. This is soooooo beautiful!
We have calculated our voyage but Denys suggests taking another route to get to the harbour of Aber Wrac’h. We seem to glide between the rocks portruding from the water at low tide. We keep silent in awe. This is magic. This is La Mer d‘ Iroise.
I don’t like the port of Aber Wrac’h. You have to walk around the whole harbour, at times on a narrow brick pier (10 metres high at low tide) to get to the service house. Yet, the evening mood is tranquil and peaceful. There are also some two and three mast boats, a ketch and a shooner. There is light in the cabin of the ketch. I see a man working on something. I ask myself how it would be to live on such an old, spacy, beautiful wooden boat.
The weather is not as nice as yesterday. There is a brisk wind blowing when we are leaving Aber Wrac’h but things get more gentle when we are out on the open sea. Denys has decided to hiss the ‚trinquette‘, a smaller foresail then the genoa or the spi. We sail along Brittany’s foremost northern bit towards the foremost western islands, Molène and then Ouessant (‚ouest‘ – west in French) (Ushant is the English name for the isle). To get there we have to sail through waters with enormous currents. You can only get to the Ile d‘ Ouessant when weather conditions are favourite and fine. Favourite means, the wind comes from the opposite direction of the anchoring bay so that your boat will not drift towards the beach. Still, as the island is so flat, there is not much shelter from the land.
We sail towards ‚La Jumet‘ – another of those famous Breton lighthouses, 47 metres high, built in 1911 from concrete and brick. It stands out in the sea signaling a row of stones that have to be sailed around to get into the Bay of Lampaul. We still have the wind from astern and together with a current of 4 knots (!!!) at this we sweep through the passage of Le Fromveur at a speed of 11 knots (!!!). 20km/h on a sailing boat is rather a lot. After having sailed with wind from astern on a broad reach course we have to sail close-hauled after veering around ‚La Jumet‘. And now the wind is really hitting! We are heeling heavily and for a moment I am a bit afraid.
The anchoring manoeuvre is rather difficult in this wind. We have to try three times before we get the line through the loop on the buoy. First trial: I get the buoy when we are going in the wind (aufschiessen), but the buoy is stearbord while we have prepared everything portside (backbord). I try to get the buoy to portside but the gaff gets into the pulpit and thus twisted. I have to let go of everything.
A couple in a dinghy nearby comes to help us. They get free the badly bent gaff from the buoy and bring it to the boat. Second trail: Alain tries to help us. We get the buoy alright but – I don’t know why for heaven’s sake – he is trying to tear the buoy away from Muriel who is lying on the deck both hands hovering above the water ready to get the line through the loop. I shout at Alain to get closer to Muriel but he doesn’t understand or whatever and in a surge of anger lets go off the gaff. I try to keep it but the boat has turned to one stearbord again as the wind is hitting hard and I’m unable to hold the gaff and have to let go a second time. The couple brings us the gaff again. Third tail: Without gaff. The loop of the buoy is so high that we can reach it without the help of the gaff. That’s what we do. Finally we get the line through the loop and are safe.
No word between Alain and me about the incident.
Muriel, Alain and Denys take our dinghy to get ashore. I stay where I am. I don’t feel like being close to Alain right now.
The sunset is beautiful, the wind still strong, rocking us to sleep.
From Ouessant it is 45 nautical miles to Douarnenez. The sea has calmed. We only hiss the trinquette, later we add the main sail. In the distance we see ‚Les Pierres Noires‘, another of Birttany’s famous beacons, and sail past La Pointe de Saint Matthieu, with its lighthouse adjacent to a former monastery. We spot dolphins again, for the third or fourth time. I don’t know the names of the birds that pass by but some of them seem to be rarely seen. Later on, there is Le Cap de la Chèvre blinking in the southwest and I and some time later again we sail along the coast towards Douarnenez. In the distances we can also see the lighthouse ‚Le four‘ signaling the famous Pointe de Raz and the passage of La Raz de Sein with its strong currents. I sailed through here last year. It’s a mystic place, difficult to sail through, lots of ship wrecks. It’s a dream of many sailors to steer through La Raz de Sein. The Ìle of Sein is so flat we can only spot the lighthouse, again sticking out of the water like a needle. Our objective is to get to Sein as well the next day but it’s not sure that we will manage with the northeastly winds.
We arrive at Douarnenez late, 20h30, more than 45 nautical miles lie behind us.
I suggest that we don’t do as much the next day. L’Île de Sein is out of reach with a wind from northeast blowing into the anchoring bay. And to go there as a day trip means 55 miles, beating upwind on our way back to Douarnenez. Noone feels like that. So Denys suggests going along all the coast of La Baie de Douarnenez and we do. The landscape is beautiful. I spot the beach where I took my breakfast almost two weeks ago; we sail along the caves of Morgat and Morgat itsself. I spot a parking where lots of camping cars are parked and decide to go there for the first night when I will have left Brest in a few days.
Denys suggest casting off before dawn the next day to be out at sea already when sun is rising. We do. It is – again – a breathtaking morning.
We sail around Le Cap de la Chèvre, but this time northwards, broad reach. But once around the cap the wind hits again and I sail very close-hauled towards la Pointe de Penhir and Les Tas de Pois. This is were I was exactly two weeks ago, looking down onto the rocks of Les Tas de Pois. Steering here close-hauled through the waves and the strong wind is magic! I can hold my course within 3 degrees and Denys is full of pride for me. I love this course, I’m loving this moment. Sunshine, great winds, not to heavy surge! Wonderful.
We anchor sheltered from the coast. The water shades from blue to turquoise hue. The sky is blue. We have a melon, lunch, read, lie in the sun being gently rocked in the waves. How beautiful is this moment! Up there they are, the many tourists, looking down at us when we are sailing through ‚Les Tas de Pois‘, taking pictures of us as I have done two weeks ago.
We sail past the peninsula, past the Lion’s rock and the ‚Pointe de Toulinguet‘ over to the other side of the Rade de Brest towards Le Phare du Petit Minou and back to La Pointe d’Espagnol along the coast to Camaret, our last destination. La Tour Vauban, masterpiece of Vauban’s architecture, shows us where to get into the port. We are welcomed, given a nice berth. The wind is still howling. It’s Denys‘ turn again – soirée de crèpes!
Somehow we are all up early. Maybe it’s because of the day before. We hiss sails just after the sun has risen and have to ‚tirer les bords‘, to beat upwind all along the Rade of Brest.
We do, having to veer in ever so shorter intervals till we get to the bottleneck just in front of Port de Plaissance du Moulin Blanc. We sail through the bottleneck passage wind abeam, lower the main sheet and steer into the port with only the foresail. Sailing until the very last moment. I am allowed to do the manoever but do not do it very nicely. Yet, we get into our berth at Moulin Blanc.
Once arrived this is not the end of our trip. The boat has to be cleaned after lunch. Muriel has her TGV to Paris at 14h23. Alain and me do most of the job, scrub the deck. I desinfect my cabin – hullo Covid! – take my luggage to my van.
It’s there, safe and sound – my van. I will have time to tidy up tonight. Denys and me want to go shopping first. It’s incrediblby hot. I already miss the cooling wind. Hot and sweaty we have a shower first, then we drive to ICCI. Great place to go shopping. Everything is from nearby farms and cultivators. We get bear, vegetables, dairy products.
Then I leave Denys and – meet Luc and Rinka again. They (Luc and the other guy that’s living on a boat. His name is Alex as I learn a little later) invite me to have dinner with them. I accept though I want to eat my own stuff. The fried eggs do not really taste well. They’re probably too old – Danish! I even get stomach ache for a moment. The peaches are not succulent anymore – peach season is over. The figs are nice, though.
I learn that Luc and Alex were actually worried I wouldn’t come back. And I also learn that Alex gave notice to Luc about my arrival, as well as the ever so nice harbour master, Sylvain. Ok!?! So I’m actually known here.
I sleep rather well. I want to take the bus to the station to get on the 12h16 TGV to Paris. My luggage has got heavy again. So I ask for a taxi. The weather isn’t as nice as yesterday, humid. I’m sweating! The train gets packed.
There seem to be usual Saturday afternoon demonstrations ongoing when I arrive in Paris. The streets are strangely empty. The buses outside Gare de Montparnasse announce considerable delay. I take the underground, though I know I will have to go up and down a few staircases, all with my heavy load. But I have enough time. Take it easy. Getting into the underground area proves to be tricky. You have to be extremly quick to get through the opening barriers. My suitcase gets stuck and only with the help of a young couple I get loose again. He puts his ticket into the slot. I manage only to get the suitcase further through the barrier before it gets stuck again. So now we have one more go: one suitcase and two people: One, two, three! I yank my suitcase and they jumb forward through the barrier at the same moment – it works! What a stupid invention!
I have to get through some more of these barriers but none of them is as bad as the one at Gare de Montparnasse. I change the underground line at Les Halles to get to Gare de Lyon. The atmosphere is completely different here to the one at Gare de Montparnasse. Montparnasse was all hustle and bustle. Here it’s much calmer. There seem not to be as many people. I step out of the station building just to see Paris and have some ‚fresh‘ air without the mask. Then I sink exhausted onto a chair in the nearby restaurant, have a salad and a latte. It’s been raining here in Paris. The streets are still wet – and empty. The air is humid.
Another hour and I’m sitting in the train heading towards Zurich. It’s my older son’s 18th birthday tomorrow. We will celebrate his full legal age – well, one weight of my shoulder, too. There are also advantages of getting older.
The TGV Lyria to Zurich is not as packed as the one from Brest to Paris. For the first time after many, many weeks I hear people speaking Swiss German again. It feels awkward. Swiss people do not respect the policy of putting the phone into vibration mode in oder not to pester other passengers. Swiss people speack loudly as if there were at home.
While the train is taking me ‚home‘, away from my beloved van, I’m looking at property adverts in France … my mind is not keeping up with the speed of the TGV!
I’ll be back soon!