TWENTY TWENTY-THREE, AS I MAY HAVE ALREADY VOUCH-SAFED is (or was) the year we decided summers in the S of F are no longer our thing, if they ever were, so the Autumn 2023 excursion had become rather keenly anticipated by the time we weighed anchor for our appointment with that trusty barque, Armorique. There can be no doubt anymore that the world is warming up. Vaucluse aussi. Our tolerance of heat is going the other way, so summers at Rue FB are probably out for us from hereon.
As predicted Dr G did manage to reach Bullsmead Villas in time to be included in the contents, rapidly adapting to the rather over-cautious hour of departure, the tempting but dubious variation at Tavistock that won’t be employed again, the usual tedious quayside interlude – not accounting for the unreadiness of our cabins, the jostle at the restaurant, bar etc.
Ever keen to widen our passenger’s experience of Finistère, we built in a short digestive excursion apres petit-dej to Pointe de Pen-al-Lann (see the itinerary published previously) where we gulped in views of the Rade de Morlaix, teetered round the short circuit we have walked before, and even got a bit hot under the collar on account of the early morning sun not being fully anticipated. Sandwiches were secured shortly after this stroll was achieved, at a village whose name probably defeats even your locals, acquired by our quartermaster cum campaign commander…
Great heavens, they were good ones too, worthy of the canal side, lock side location Mary subsequently pin pointed for us, see snaps above. Quite a good first morning don’t you think? Well you would have, if you’d been part of the assembly, I can assure you! I don’t think Dr G demured.
To cut a relatively long day short we eventually stopped off amongst the saltings of Guérande in somewhat unexpectedly toasty weather. Took a stroll. Arty pictures were attempted. After this it was a short step to our hotel in Batz-sur-Mer which I noted (not for the first time) was unblessed with air con. This compromised my sleep somewhat but it was nice to be back in the wee hostel. Les Marais Salants – even though we clearly had left no impression on the owner (or shudder of recognition) from our first visit back in 2022.
Dr G took the upper salon while Mme M shared her suite downstairs with the driver. We ate good crepes in Croisic and walked them off down the jetty, in failing light, to the Tredic feu, as you do, not withstanding that self could only summon up a painful limp. Didn't quite make it fact, but been there, done that, back in twenty-two…
It rained hard twice in the night. The trains came and went as softly as any trains can. I slept rather badly due to the heat. And not sleeping very well these days. The trains just soothed.
