Not so far from the madding crowd

Just as promised there was no beating for a very pleasant 30 mile sail from Quimper to Ile de Groix just off Lorient; we were looking forward to a pleasant evening in a quiet island harbour. What we hadn’t factored in was Bastille day. 200 years later they still go nuts for the sacking of the monarchy and the start of a head chopping fest (all bourgeois pigs of course!) It was 7 o’clock as we pulled into the little harbour in Port Tudy on Ile de Groix and we weren’t the first, I've never seen mooring quqite like this before!  We muscled in amongst the hoards and tied up alongside one of the throng; Melanie put the dinner on and on came the music from some mega speakers ashore; this would be a long night! Partying ‘till the wee hours is not really our thing so we decided to high tail it out of there, passing a battery of fireworks on the quay as we left. We had a lovely evening sail for a couple of hours to the mainland where we arrived in a little anchorage behind the old fort at Port Louis just as it was getting dark to be greeted by hundreds of people at the quay waiting for their fireworks. It was a spectacular display in our front row seats swinging to an anchor. It was a tragedy to hear about the mindless slaughter in Nice the following day.

Next we hopped over to Sauzon on Belle Isle; a delightful island where we were also not the first – we are definitely into peak sailing season for the French, there will be no deserted anchorages for us until we reach Spain! Not wanting to stay in a crowded rather rolly anchorage we headed over to the Gulf of Morbihan, a large inland sea dotted with little islands – and every sailing and motor boat in France out for the holiday weekend!

Cider making is big in these parts; it is rather cloudier and more earthy than ours but a pleasant drop. Melanie had found out about a cider festival a little way back up the coast that we wanted to see. We hired a car and drove the 50 odd miles to Fouesnant. Bagpipes are so synonymous with Scotland it was something of a surprise to hear their distinctive drone warming up as we arrived. The roots here are in fact very Celtic; the last strong holds of the Celts being Wales, Scotland Ireland and as it turns out Brittany. We watched the big parade with everybody in traditional Breton costume; there were many similarities to the Welsh dress and even the language, still spoken here and on every sign post as well as French, is similar.

After the parade we were treated to a Breton rock concert; check out the guy with the shades. At least the sun was out!

On Monday Melanie headed home for another cough hospital and Mum visit. I went exploring Vannes, a  medieval walled town.

Vannes is still packed with old timber framed houses; its an odd combination, 21^st century shop fronts on the ground floor with medieval timber above. 

A nice touch was  a Mr Vannes (I couldn't find out who he was), who had a portrait of he and his wife carved into the front of his new house!

This morning Woody and I headed out early for a bike ride before it got to hot. A 7 o’clock start had us at the magnificent Chateau de Suscinio long before the doors opened. Built in 1200 it was more of a castle

 than a chateau; it was the home of the dukes of Brittany for several centuries.






The butter is melting at a frightening speed here now – but I gather you’ve got the same at home – it is 32 degrees as I write this. But just as we are thinking its getting hot, spare a thought for this poor fellow in his thick winter coat!

Beware, wherever you go below Woody is watching you!