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...I've finally run out of diversionary activities and started to paint. Yeh ha! Two pictures inspired by the Iles of Scilly, and a sketch for another more complex one - yet to be realised.
The dinghy is somewhere in La Roche Bernard- seems it was delivered to the wrong address and has been taken back. Maybe it will arrive tomorrow.
More socialising tonight - and the description of last nights socialising with Morgan from the next door boat will have to wait for another day.
Yes, more walks. The good thing about French tourist offices is that they all seem to have walking route leaflets. So one of my first stops in a new place is to pop into the tourist office and see what’s on offer. This time its some walks adjacent to the river Vilaine, one a circuit of the bridges and one a circuit further north centred on a village called Aubin (why I don’t know as it is tiny with nothing obvious to make it the centre of a walk).
We’ve explored both – a long walk a couple of days ago in cooler weather, and the shorter one today. The highlight of the Aubin circuit is views of the river, coupled with great tracks overland through woods, visiting Nivillac, which is full of flowers (it wins the equivalent of Britain in bloom awards). Skye and I have a great time.
Today’s walk is the shorter one going north on the east bank
of the river, crossing the bridge (interesting- the footpath is under the road
on the supporting arch, which makes the ascent and descent rather like a Jane
Fonda workout) and coming down the west bank.
A much sunnier day, so its
fortunate that the walk is mainly in trees. I’m amused by several groups of
French joggers- well not quite sure what they call themselves- nut all clad in
Lycra and seemingly very fit. Is this a standard Sunday morning pursuit?
Speaking of the weather, its at last getting warmer. Its a lovely sunny day today, pleasantly warm and with a light breeze. Quite a nice change after the cooler, wetter weather we’ve been having.
We even managed to eat out in the cockpit last night, entertaining Tim and Karen from Saradan- an endurance 43 (or 45?). It transpires we met Tim and Karen very briefly when we were up the Fal, walking their springer, Bowline, on the pontoon. They’ve been living aboard for 15 months – they’d intended to be in Portugal last year but enjoyed Falmouth so much they stayed there last winter and are thinking of going back this winter- though tempted by the cheap winter deal here at La Roche Bernard. A good evening, chatting about all sorts (including how to survive a hurricane at anchor... ... gulp!).
I’m hoping we find more people like Tim and Karen. So far we haven’t met many liveaboards (in fact none since Melanie and Karl?) - round here tends to be lots of retired Brits who keep their boats here and pop over for a few weeks in the summer. Seems like most of our contempories have headed straight south to northern Spain and Portugal. Or that’s what I hope. Not sure I will really enjoy it unless we meet more people...
I still haven’t managed to paint - all sorts of pictures are swimming about in my head, but every time I think about sitting down and painting, I find some diversionary o pursuit. I now have a very tidy and clean cabin, and up to date blog, the boat is in ship shape order, and I’ve done all my washing. Think I will need a snooze after writing this, and then pop up to the cafe to check the internet, which means painting will have to wait for... err.. another day.
After the lovely morning walk, we set off for Arzal. The first stage is fun - negotiating the exit from the Morbihan with a running outwards tide. Its a good job it isn'tt running inwards as it is running up to 7 knots- we make 12.8 knots over the ground at one stage, slaloming along with wierd cross tides.
Once out of the Morbihan, we have good sail on mainly a beam reach to the river Vilaine. I think I must have been lulled into complacency by the relaxed day, and didn’t think through my strategy for the lock. OOOOppsss. We end up on a waiting pontoon, with another English boat rafted up to us and a myriad of French boats arriving. It looks like the lock is going to be full, and we need to do something with the dinghy which I’ve been towing. Rather lazily we decided to pull it up at the back, rather than hoisting it aboard on the spinnaker halyard, as this is less work
This would have all been fine... but the lock was indeed
crowded and we were packed in like proverbial sardines. By the time the lock
keeper (who kept his good temper and amused us whilst organising and
reorganising boats - rather like a prima donna opera singer - now I come to
think about it he even looked like one
) had organised us - around 30 minutes of
packing and repacking, we were 4 deep rafted across the lock and about a metre
from the boats to the front and rear. Well,
to cut a long story short, when the gates opened and a rush of water came in, we (or rather
the dinghy) ended up impaled on another boats anchor. Sad demise of
dinghy.
After much phoning and chatting to insurers and dinghy
suppliers, a new dinghy is on its way from England. Meanwhile we are in La Roche
Bernard, which isn’t a bad place to be if you are in a waiting situation- a
lovely old town with lots to look at, good shops, a bar with wifi, and very
reasonable marina rates - 97 Euros for a week.
One of these mornings.
Clear at 5.30, but an early morning mist sprung up and coated everything
in glistening drops. Everything is still
and quiet and the sun starts to burn through the mist, with the promise of a
glorious summer’s day.
Skye and I creep in to the dinghy in the early dawn, and go
ashore to walk round Ile Berder. We’ve had two sorties so far, but both times
decided to cut the walk short once for the shopping, so as not to be cut off on
the causeway, and once as evening supper called.
This time we have a leisurely
walk all the way round, marvelling at the clearing mist, spider’s webs and
glistening leaves. The west side of Ile Berber is, surprisingly, completely
clear of mist - the boundary between mist and not mist is abrupt, just at the
causeway between Ile Berder and the mainland.
We exit Vannes with little bother, and hot foot it back to an anchorage off Ile Berder. It transpires that Ile Berder is private but looks like a holiday resort, and allows visitors to walk round the sentier cotier. Its a nice small island and the anchorage is relatively quiet once the vendettes have ceased for the evening. Seems like this is one of the perils of the Morbihan- either being bounced by tide rips, or by wash from the hundreds of vendettes and fishing boats. But just right now, the weather is settling into a pattern of windy (and frequently wet) by day, and then still at night. So peaceful sleep.
I have a slightly
stiff walk to Lamor Baden- or should I say not TO Lamor Baden, but back again
carrying water, wine and other shopping.
En route, I spot a tourist map which shows another path around the Marias
de Pen en Toul, and advertises guided walking tours looking at the rare bird
population. Tempted by the idea of salt marshes and rare birds, I decide to take
a dinghy trip up the coast, in rather a choppy sea, and walk round the Marais.
Yes, it was a nice walk, if you wanted to look at trees! Nearly the entire path was through woodland (another picture of Skye ona path to prove it!) with some views of distant reed beds, but only in three places around the Marais could you see any water. As for birds... at one of these places, there is a guide with a powerful telescope on a tripod. He’s chatting to a couple of French people, so I ask what bird they have spotted. He invited me to look down the scope-- it’s a female Mallard duck on a nest. Ah well.
Here’s a rare view of the Marais.. .
Wow.. how to pack boats in! Here we are in Vannes, first of all rafted up
the outside boat of four in a very tight space next to the footbridge and
tightly stuck in a corner.. But no tide to worry about...
Hopefully tomorrow I’ll remember the camera!
We decided to move to raft outside the next boat forwards, but at the same
time that everyone else decided to shuffle round to let people out to catch the
swing bridge gates. Bloody Norah!
We got outside the next boat but then so did someone else, so decided we
had to motor forwards and perhaps find a new space. At the same time obviously the first swing bridge had opened and a flood of boats came in - at the same time as a flood of
boats went out.
All I can say is that you need to have
a strong constitution to survive the chess moves required. Not easy when your
boat doesn’t back at under 2 knots.
Here’s a poem by Pablo Neruda that
Jackie posted for Imbolc – it touches me deeply.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example,'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voice. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.
There’s a bit of me that’s starting to get pretty pissed off
with visiting more trippy places.
Marina hopping isn’t really my thing – and most of the places we’ve
visited even at anchor seem geared up to people there spending money. Where are the wild places? Do I need to go back to Scotland, I wonder?
The wild place in me enjoys the walking and the sailing, where I can touch the
elemental. But its difficult to touch the elemental in the middle of a boat car
park, or in a town which is full of gift shops and over priced restaurants.
Surprisingly, I’m finding more of the wild in the Morbihan,
even though its full of boats and clearly geared up for tourists. Coming in - even at neaps - was fun, ; like
skiing rather out of control, running at 11.8 knots over the ground. A not so
quiet anchorage off the Isle de Moines
(vendettes, wash and a very strong current crossing with the wind), but a very
good walk on a lovely island. Ok, so its set up for tourists.. but there’s
something deeper in the landscape that speaks of more ancient times. Old walls
peeking out from the bottom of hedges.
Stone bridges. Old tracks, and most obviously, dolmens, old stones and
ancient wells. Skye and I explored a lot
of the island- and even enjoyed the small town, which seemed more lovely and
less trippy than most.
Susie decided she wanted to fish, so we decided to do a tour
of some of the Morbihan, cruising gently along around the Ile D’Arz and other
small islands. The wind was fresh, so cruising at fishing speed ended up
sailing just with a pocket handkerchief up. We managed to miss a storm to the east of us,
and finally anchored at the top end of Ile de Moines, for a peaceful and quiet
night with celtic music and a lovely sunset.
Decided it was time I got a look in on this blog. Yes.. . ...Meeee... ...Skye, the sea dog.
This is the life... nice long walks with lots of new places to sniff out and smell, and lots of French bitches to meet. Carol wasn’t too pleased when I shot off after one on our first day in France- but boy do they smell nice!
So let me show you what life’s like..
...exploring the seashore, and lovely empty beaches,not to mention mussels (which I have now discovered come growing on rocks, not just dropped by seagulls on pontoons) crabs and delicious seaweed (but I’m not sure Carol appreciates the effects this sometimes has on my stomach).
Beach BBQs are also good- if I can cona human into slipping me a beefburger.
Exploring rivers in the dinghy- I’m told those floaty things
which tantalised me are called Buoys, but I’m sure they are out to get me, so I
have to bark at them just in case. As for the jumping fish.. let me at
them! I have to be on dinghy patrol in
the unlikely event one jumps near enough to catch it.
I have discovered the delights of swimming. I’m sure Carol never understood that i was just waiting for warmer water!
As for a good back scratch..I’m always on the look out for a
nice bit of sratchy grass or pine needles when we’re out on our walks- and
we’re doing a lot of these- exploring coast paths and islands, with great
views, though not sure why Carol gets anxious when I peer over cliff edges.
As for sailing- a good excuse for a long snooze, especially when the boat is tipped up a
bit. Ideal for my favourite position.
And if Carol's really lucky I might grace her with my presence on her bed...
