rochefort roscoff stop offs

FOR SOME REASON that generally escapes me, the son and heir, known for his fascination with disconcerting data, (trivia, some might call it, not me, mind, no fear) and not content with doing the thing once, has elected during this return, to count traffic circles we encounter… again. He did it back in 2025 for heaven's sake. However, as all good fathers should, I warm to his rationale for doing this (we dismiss, after due consideration, my idea of recording the traffic calming/speed bumps we negotiate on this journey back) but don't expect me to set that rationale out here. If you cross his path, ask him about his roundabout count, if you've got a minute or two. 

Anyway. At this point in our travel the score stands at 219 and while taking our day off round Rochefort, we add another 27 circles to that figure. Incidentally, many years back, the first born counted all the railway crossings we negotiated on the road in Fr but there weren't quite enough to keep his attention, so I'm not sure we clocked all those we crossed… as if we cared). 

Don't fret, the full score of road circles will be appended to the end of the next post, but be warned, the acquisition and construction of traffic roundabouts, of all shapes, sizes and complexities  has continued to gather pace: the French obsession with them has not slackened, dear me no: it is almost an art form. I've said so before, but there just has to be a PhD in it for someone, surely. We've seen some absolute wonders of design and artifice, where's the directory, the archive of these works, it's just waiting to be compiled. First France, then…… the World. If I could have my time over …… hmmm. Perhaps not… but no dafter than some PhDs I've encountered, I can tell you! 

But I digress… We are having a day off so potter off down to Fouras and the peninsula that projects west from there… Vague proposals to visit the island are put on ice, we've been before, and we decide to lunch instead. Once again, moderately good, immoderately pricey (imho) but convivially situated with shade under what may be the last of the hot sun. Inspirationally called L'Océan, what vision, what originality! Roadwork operatives are pulling the area to pieces to try and bring back the natural landscapes hereabouts, after spending so many years flattening it in the name of progress and car parking. A bit of an un-building site in fact, lots of topsoil going back in etc.  

We drive back round the coast as much as the road closures will allow. We drop in on a bit of the coastal defences (there are lots around this area, all of interest to us history types). 

There are good expanses of estuarine mud hereabouts and I am delighted to get back onto the reclaimed marshes and narrow roads of the north bank of the Charente Estuary. Lots of birds and geese expected, some already around, but of course also the dear little feux of Soumard, the antérieur of which is accessible, as some operative has left the gate open so we risk the suspension and drive down there. Naughty I know but I have a condition… I am rather fond of  this tract of land. We don't inconvenience anyone. Not sure why most of the ditch side tracks are reserved for cyclists, but I'll let it pass. You can obtain more guff on these feux from my lighthouse blog of course, you know you want to. 

The s&h is by now just itching to get off to the Rochefort Arsenal where the Cordérie Royale and the historic dry docks are situated, so we motor back to the conurbation and park in a dock side car park before shuffling off into this historic riverside site, as we have many times before. No sign of L' Hermione of course (which we watched being built year on year until launch and which Adam still hasn't seen in completed form) because it is in need of major repair and currently laid up in Bayonne for want of funding.

I can't go far, but as usual, stare deeply into the wet 'dry' docks, conjuring up the history they contain, trying to recall the ships that were built there and admiring the mud soup that glistens therein under the hot afternoon sun. Entrance is free to these redolent areas, it creaks with hist: I forgot m'wallet so did not dare enter the best marine book shop known to man (albeit unaccountably stocking mostly books in Fr… does Trafalgar mean nothing to the citizens of Rochefort?).  

The morning dawns fair and clear. We need to get going as we are not setting out from La Rochelle but Rochefort, which means extra miles to cover. And this day is the longest of the return. Three-hundred-and fifty-miles, it's a slog. There is mist about aussi. Nevertheless, and by popular demand we route via Luçon for a late breakfast knowing that the café and adjacent pâtisserie can and do produce the goods. It's the last transit day so like the first we just have to have some rain en route. The cruise ships under construction or refit at St Nazaire seem even bigger and the road round Rennes even busier and more complicated. Today it seems to take forever. The N12 comes to a complete standstill twice and a hunt for fuel runs us close to empty near Châteaulaudren. 

We don't reach Roscoff until almost six o'clock (1800) but fortunately there is a parking spot in the square. The temperature has dropped like an stone. We are patronising the Mercure this time as our more usual hostel is being refitted and is closed to all comers. Good rooms though, a suite of rooms in fact and would you believe it the bath is not next to the bed? Crêpes for supper, not for me, I feel ill (but enjoy the cider) and both Mary and self are now almost floored by heavy colds. But as you know, I am not one to complain… and as at Rochefort we are taking a second day out before reporting to embark at the marine station and suffer the deflation of the return to Bullsmead Towers. My, there's a chill wind blowing though.