Thursday 10th June
Mo felt that it was wrong to leave Concarneau without any photos, and she really fancied another box of the wine we had bought and sampled yesterday. Only 8 Euros buys you 5 litres of very pleasant and drinkable red wine. So we went ashore in the dinghy, and JP was delegated to buy bread and take photos, while Mo hiked to the supermarche. Back on board, we had lunch and recovered the dinghy, before setting off with a light westerly breeze for the Aven. In the event, having cut through the channel between Isle de Raguenes and Isle Vert, we spotted the anchorage behind Isle de Raguenes, and decided to investigate it for an overnight anchorage. JP had some concern that we might get some sea when the reef was covered at high tide, which proved to be the case, but it was not uncomfortable at all. Mo however suffered from mosquitos that prevented her from sleeping.
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Friday 11th June
We got up reasonably promptly and efficiently, and got under way in order to go up the Aven on a rising tide, above half tide. We quickly made good the 2 miles or so up to the Aven, and continued straight over the bar and up the pretty river. We were fully taken in by the North Biscay pilot, where the caption to one picture of rather small boats stated that 'On the tide, there is plenty of water for a deep keeled yacht to reach Pont Aven'. It is possible that once beyond Rosbraz we might have spotted the starboard channel marker buoy way off the line of port and starboard buoys that we were following, had we had our eyes a little wider open and been less confident. However, we spent the next half hour wondering how we got onto the sandbank? We had plenty of time to admire the chateau that we had just passed. By the time we got off, it was within about 40 minutes of high water, leaving no further margin for mistakes. We tried to follow the channel a little further, but soon found we were running out of water again, so regretfully turned back and made our way down river, over the bar again, and over to the anchorage at Port Manec'h. We dropped anchor, and launched the dinghy with outboard as quickly as we could, then set off again upriver.
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It was just as well we had aborted our trip, for soon after the point where we had turned round, the river narrowed between rocky banks. Eventually, we turned the corner to find a quay with boats hauled out, then shortly afterwards we glimpsed the town itself. It was extremely pretty, and beyond the quay where there were some small boats moored, there was a bridge that had been built of concrete, but moulded to look like a wooden bridge made of tree trunks. On the left bank, the Hotel Mimosas looked as if it would serve a mean meal. Beyond the bridge, we ran out of water amongst the rocks, where the stream divided at water mill. If we had taken Fuga beyond the first quay, and we would have been worried to death getting that far, then we would surely not have turned her round amongst the moored craft. Back at Port Manech, we enjoyed a late lunch, and afterwards set off in the dinghy to look at the Belon where JP remembered having dinner at Chez Jacqui. We got a glimpse of the establishment, but turned back as the seas on the bar looked as if we might get swamped. Having recovered the dinghy, we set off for Isle de Groix. However, the expected Force 4 was probably nearer Force 6, from the west. The seas were extraordinary, and seemed to be formed from cross-seas so that every so often Fuga fell into a deep hole off one wave, before being picked up by the next. We rolled, and the fridge which Mo had not had an opportunity to secure, flew open and spilled some of its contents onto the floor. Having set off with one reef, Mo suggested a second, and even when this was taken in, the boat was difficult to control. The autohelm surrendered, and JP was forced to helm. He too eventually gave in, and we took the main off altogether, but let out all the jib. Thus we made a slightly slower, but much more steady, progress towards Ile de Groix. Eventually we made the Pte d' Enfer and got ready to enter Loc Maria, not yet convinced that it would give us the shelter we hoped for. We saw the green beacon, and homed in on the bearing until we found the leading lines into the bay and through the port and starboard markers. The buoys, which we would have gladly picked up, were marked Prive, and so we looked for and found a slightly better depth for anchoring just inside them. We were relieved that the shelter was as good as the book suggested, and soon afterwards, the wind veered to the north as well. Backgammon JP won twice.
Saturday 12th June
We awoke smartly. Mo had taken to sleeping with the alarm clock, as she felt that otherwise she might stay in bed all day! The milk was off, and reinforcements frozen in the freezer. So we decided on a fruit salad breakfast, with bread and jam. Afterwards, we set off and set full sail, but there was very little wind. The autopilot went on strike, so JP vanished with his meter and screwdriver into the lazarette locker, the contents of which first had to be brought out into the cockpit. The problem was not really uncovered, but in fiddling with the connections, the autopilot began to work again intermittently. Mo started the engine, to give it a chance to steer the boat, as we were drifting along at only half a knot. Once the autopilot seemed to be working, and the circumstances not being conducive to further investigation, JP withdrew and replaced the locker contents. The breeze now materialised from the south west, JP set up a waypoint for Belle Isle, and discovered that he had given Mo the wrong course. Thus satisfied, he retired to bathe his bum and read on the side decks. Coming to some time later, he realised that he had not reset the sails, and in doing so secured a couple more knots of boatspeed. Mo remarked that she could have had lunch earlier, if he hadn't been quite so dozy.
We found the entrance to Ster Wenn, visited last year by Peter Manly and highly recommended, without difficulty. It was surprisingly almost empty, and we entered and dropped our anchor, then launched the dinghy to take a line ashore. JP got out the kedge, but found this was slipping, when the neighbouring boat offered assistance, and also pointed out that there was an iron hoop in the rocks to secure to. JP felt he needed to return the favour so helped another boat secure in turn. After lunch, we re-anchored because we were too close to the rocks at our stern, and soon after this Isobel, a British Sadler 26, came in, and JP went to his assistance as he appeared to be on his own. Carl offered JP a beer, and in turn, JP invited Carl over for a drink later. Mo and JP went for a row in order to get some photographs. During the evening, the anchorage gradually filled up, and with the breeze freshening and veering to the north, we hope for not too lively a night sans mosquitos.
Sunday 13th June
We were rather late in bed, despite Mo's alarm clock that she obviously had not set. By the time that we got up, a lot of our companions from the previous night had already set sail. This was a pity, because the people that we did manage to watch provided much entertainment. Carl dropped by on his way back from a row, and we discussed possible options. At about lunch time, we began to extract ourselves, something that had been worrying the mate, who envisaged that when we let go of the rock she would be left alone on Fuga, bouncing off the opposite rock face. In the event, our doubled up rope meant that JP managed to get back on board Fuga quickly, but in any case there was little need for panic. There was very little wind, and although we set out with a destination of Houat, we had not gone far down the coast when we found the first of two possible anchorages. We had already seen four yachts anchored close inshore in Port Gulphur. Ahead of us, a yacht had turned in and seemed to have disappeared amongst the rocky cliffs. We found a lovely, almost empty bay, (photo below) occupied only by some small fishing boats and the one yacht, Khamis, also British. As we circled around the anchorage, the skipper simply told us not to tell anyone else about it, and that mobile phones did not work here! JP promised to drop back for a chat later. Having tried to investigate the stiffness in the furling gear, JP found that he was unable to get the jib off to lubricate the top bearing. After some efforts at unfurling the sail manually, the only way to see what was happening was to go up the mast. This trip was sufficient to discourage JP from bathing, as from this height it was easy to see the large brown jellyfish with tentacles everywhere around us. Having resolved the wrapped halyard the sail came down, and we were able to lubricate the furling gear, and to reset the control line before re-hoisting the sail. JP wanted to visit Khamis as promised, so Mo suggested a trip before supper, or drop in and fix to call back later. Quite suddenly, when Mo was already cooking supper, JP took it upon himself to set off to take some photos, and on the way back had the wonderful idea that he should call in on the other boat. Peter Foston was most sociable and offered JP a glass of wine. JP could hardly refuse, and kept a weather eye open for signals from Fuga that supper was ready. None came! When JP returned to Fuga, a rather pissed off Mo had eaten dinner by herself. She had delayed cooking the vegetables, then cooked them, and they had gone cold. Tired of waiting, she had had to re-heat her meal in the microwave. A game of scrabble, that Mo won, appeased her, and so to bed.
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Monday 14th June
We were late getting up, again, and as we were breakfasting on fruit salad, Peter came by with a bucket full of Moules that he had gathered from the rocks at the mouth of the bay. He transferred a number of these into a plastic bag, and gave us instruction in the art of preparing and cooking them. We invited him on board and had a long chat. JP had an urge to get off the boat, and wanted to get the bicycles out. He assured Mo that the island was flat, once you got up to the top. Mo had been protective of JP's foot, since he was still taking pills for his gout. Mo was worried that the bicycles would go overboard, or that the effort involved in getting them ashore by dinghy and re-assembling them would outweigh any benefit we might get from a short cycle ride. JP prevailed, and organised a reconnoitre to the beach to find out the best place to land, and also set up an elaborate outhaul using the kedge, a warp and a fender. The lazarette had had to be cleared to get the kedge out, and the large locker partly emptied to extract the small outboard. We then returned to the boat, packed a haversack with tools for the bikes, some water, and the camera and then loaded the dinghy with 2 bike frames, 4 wheels, 4 pedals, the haversack, Mo and JP, and thus loaded we went to the beach. Putting the bikes together was not too bad, when JP managed to sort out his brake cable. JP then moored dinghy on the outhaul, and returned by the cliff path to the beach, and we set off. The road from the beach was up a long hill, and we had to walk most of this. Soon after we got to the top, the road went down again, and by the time we had walked up the second hill into the village of Bangor, we were ready for a coke and beer. We headed for Le Palais, the main town on the island where the ferries come in. We enjoyed the ride there, along signposted cycle routes that avoided the main roads, but were not necessarily made up roads. The going along these was often harder, but there was no traffic. The last kilometre into Palais was downhill, and so of course, we would have to come up it again! In Le Palais, we locked up the bikes, and looked around the harbour (photo above). We had not brought lunch, so we found a pizzeria where we sat down to a drink and some lovely pizzas. This gave us the energy to push the bikes back up the hill, and through the walled fortifications to rejoin the road further up. We decided to stick to the roads, as these were easier going and soon arrived back at Bangor, where we picked up some supplies, in particular bread to go with the Moules. There was supposedly an easier way back to the boat from Bangor, but we were not sure where this led down to the beach, and JP led the way down two false starts by jumping the gun. We met a family out walking, who put us straight, so that we eventually found a road that led down to a car park on the opposite side of the beach. JP fetched the dinghy, and we transported the fully assembled bikes back to Fuga. Once there, JP set about scraping the barnacles off the Moules and cleaning them, while Mo prepared the broth to cook them in. Mo chewed two of the Moules, swallowed a few more whole, then gave up, but enjoyed dipping her bread in the concoction of garlic, onion, tomato, courgette, celery, wine, and herbs. Mo won the Scrabble again!
Following our success the day before, JP had proposed that we visit LocMaria for the simple reason that this was as far as we could go in one direction on the island. We took the bikes back to the shore, along with a prepared picnic lunch, and used the outhaul that we had set up the day before. It was a lot easier, particularly as we now knew the best way up from the beach. Once up at the top, we turned right into La Grande Village (really just a few houses) and through it in a trice out onto the cliff top east of our anchorage. From here, we could look across the bay to the adjacent Port Herlin, with its dramatic cliffs. Retracing our route, we set off in an easterly direction, and soon encountered a marked cycle trail signposted Locmaria, that we then began to follow. It led us round some back ways, and we were able to take in the local countryside, farms, and the many closed up holiday homes that are dotted all over the island. Eventually the trail joined the main road, and we at last arrived at Locmaria. Mo was very hungry, and wanted lunch. We had used up most of our water, so we bought some more, locked the bikes to a fence, and made our way down the hill to Port Maria. We sat in the shade of a cliff, and ate our lunch, watching the comings and goings of the relatively few people on the beach, and wondered how it would be in July. After lunch, JP proposed a walk over the cliff opposite, to see what was on the other side. However, after going far enough up and over to see the bay and moorings outside the confines of the inlet, we realised we were not going to be able to get back to the bikes that way, and had to come back down the way we had come. We got back to the bikes, very hot, and sat down for a coke and beer, purchasing a Mars and Snickers bar (for €1.60) as sustenance for the journey back.
JP now proposed a short excursion via the nearby Port An Dro and les Grande Sables, arguing that there would be no hills if we followed the coast. Having seen the lie of the land, encountering one descent and ascent, however, we cut the corners a little. Eventually we regained the main road having touched on the north coast of the island sufficiently to get a feel for it. Cycling along the main road, and with only a car hire brochure for a map, we missed our turning and eventually came to the roundabout outside Bangor on the road from Le Palais. This time we knew the way back to the beach, recovered the dinghy and loaded up the bikes. JP recovered the kedge and returned to Fuga, where he decided he needed to cool off a bit. Braving the jellyfish that were all around, he eventually managed a ten-second swim, the first this year, off the stern of the boat accompanied by the usual accompaniment of splashing and screaming. Mo reflected on the state of her feet, showing signs of blistering and aggravation of her bunion from so much walking, after the cycle ride on JP's very flat island. Mo won the scrabble, again.
JP had been cajoled to turn the light out, as he was nearing the end of 'Private Affairs', and wanted to get to the big reconciliation that he was sure would provide the happy ending. In the morning, he complained of an upset stomach. When Mo eventually showed a leg, she cooked boiled eggs as these would be better than more cereal and fruit. Peter had left for Houat, and there had been a number of other boats coming and going over the days, but the anchorage was always pleasant and uncrowded. Mo was also reluctant to contemplate another cycle ride, so it seemed to be a good time to move. The lazarette had to be re-stowed, and the outboard replaced in the big locker. The dinghy had to be brought aboard, the bicycles partially dismantled and stowed. So JP was quite glad when eventually we got away, sailing in very light westerly breeze at a stately 2 knots. Off Port An Dro, on the north east of the island, we were becalmed and headed simultaneously. Mo was hungry, and chose this moment to produce lunch, wine glasses, plates, knives, cheeses, the lot. JP was frustrated, and concerned about a beacon which was getting no nearer, rather the reverse, so decided to motor up for a few minutes to where he could see breeze playing on the water. The moment we hit the breeze, Fuga heeled and Mo's lunch started to slide. During this process, JP had made a move to get behind the wheel and knocked his wine glass: Mo expertly caught it preventing total loss of wine and breakage of glass, but wine went everywhere. Mo had also hung the washing that she had done prior to setting off on the guardrails, as it appeared to be a suitable opportunity, but now with Force 4 plus and doing 7 knots she had to recover the washing as well as the lunch. We arrived at Houat, anchored off the easterly beach Trea'ch er Goured (anchoring prohibited) and relaxed with medicinal whisky and ginger.
Mo had grouched when she awoke in her bunk at past midnight and heard me typing away on the computer, but we were not too late coming to. There had been a period during the night when we had rolled about a bit, but now it was flat calm, with a gentle breeze blowing down the beach. Peter, on Khamis, who had been anchored nearby, had already gone. We had breakfast, then Mo set about the laundry and I had a couple of abortive attempts to get e-mails away via O2 GPRS. Eventually I tried a line to Tiscali, and they cleared immediately. We had had a severe shock when Diane said that the O2 bill was £311 for last month! Mo had been suggesting I needed a hair cut for some days, so we got the clippers out in the cockpit, and she had a go at my hair. Wanting to get my own back, I persuaded Mo to submit to my skills as a hairdresser. Mo remembered the way the hedge in Dorton was shorn almost bare, and the top going up and down along its length. I had a tentative shear all over, and was quite pleased with my results. Mo was too surprised or mortified to comment much. After lunch, we launched the dinghy and set off for the beach, taking the camera and the haversack. Houat has changed quite a bit since JP was last here 12 or 13 years ago. The main grocery store by the well is now a bar, and a new one has opened down near the port. One or two hotels, bars and restaurants have opened as well. The village was very beautiful with lots of flowers. Returning to the boat, JP went to look at the old port while Mo nursed her sore feet and stiffness caused by too much walking on the cycle rides. The Douaines Francais turned up for the fourth time, this time two in a little rubber dinghy, but believed JP when he offered to show them the paper left by their predecessors in L'Abervrach. JP won the Scrabble for the first time in ages.
Friday 18th June
We were pretty efficient in getting up and having breakfast, so at 1030 we were sailing out of the anchorage! The usual chores, including securing everything down below, and recovering the dinghy and outboard had been completed in record time. The wind was F3-4 Northwesterly giving us a broad reach towards La Villaine, the entrance of which was about 20 miles away. At one point, the wind dropped away and JP attempted to catch a fish, without any success. A strong pull on the line caused great excitement, but on recovering the line, it proved to be seaweed. JP gave up quite soon, as the wind freshened again. After lunch, he another go, as there was no wind at all. As we were approaching the estuary, JP spotted a large group of seagulls in the water, and put the engine on to motor over. He immediately got a bite, and was recovering the line to see a fish on the end, when suddenly weights, trace and fish were gone as his blood knot on the end of the line proved inadequately fastened! As we entered the river, a number of boats appeared to fall in line behind us, as the depth dropped to as low as 1.3 metres below our keel. Evidently, if anyone was going to go aground, they intended it to be us. Once over the bar, they re-hoisted their sails and overtook in a bid to get to the Arzal dam lock before us! Mo was pleased that the process of entering and securing within the lock was not as traumatic as on the first occasion at St. Malo, or on the second at the Rance where there appeared to be no room in the lock for us when we held back from the rush! Once through the dam, we set our jib again and had a pleasant cruise upriver to and beyond La Roche Bernard. Beyond LRB there were two bridges, and then some power cables that again gave us some concern as it was impossible to judge the margin of clearance in advance, and we had to rely on the absence of comment on these particular obstructions in the pilot book! The wind eventually headed us, and we were obliged to put the motor on in order to get to Foleux, where we anchored above the yacht harbour. Once settled, we realised that our neighbour upriver was yet again Peter on Khamis, the fifth time we have shared an anchorage together! Mo cooked a variation on the French favourite, adapted from Delia, that she christened Mo(ca)ssoulet, and served with rice. JP won the Scrabble, but the early supper meant that Mo insisted on a return match, and JP again won. Mo not being content with this, we played Backgammon, and at last her honour was satisfied, so we were allowed to go to bed.
Saturday 19th June
The initial thought was to go back to the marina at La Roche Barnard, to avoid running the generator for a day, and to stock up on supplies. We have not shopped nor filled up with water since Concarneau, other than a few items bought at Belle Isle and Houat. However, idleness took hold, and we decided that we could survive until Monday or Tuesday when we expect to be in Vannes to meet Debbie's parents. The combination of fridge and freezer means that we can keep away from shops for some considerable time. JP started to get involved in the web site update, and has therefore been quite like a bear with a sore head. Anything Mo says goes right over his head. Mo has a way of dealing with this, declaring later when she has to repeat herself, "I told your friend....". Mo meanwhile spent the day snatching what sunshine appeared between clouds and the odd very light shower, and finishing her book. The outcome of Scrabble, later, to be advised and Mo wishes to advise anyone interested that JP's gout appears to be well on the way to recovery.
