We are tied up at Sainte Marine, a beautiful little village on the south coast of Brittany. The village and its marina are on the River Odet, a short distance from where the river flows into the Bay of Biscay. The somewhat larger Benodet is on the opposite shore.

Verbal descriptions and google earth will have to substitute for the usual photographs, as we are limited by the apparent European Disunion in the internet realm. Our prepaid British bytes were quickly swallowed by roaming charges in France, and a French modem would suffer the same fate in Spain, where we expect to be in a few days.

The route from here to our first harbor in Spain (La Coruna is the most likely destination) will take us 320 miles across the Bay of Biscay, from France's Finistere to Spain's Cabo Finisterre. June and July are reputed to be the best months to cross Biscay. A season of heavier storms and seas generally begins in mid August, so we are once again being forced by weather windows to move on sooner than we would like.

We have already had a preview of storm season in Biscay. On Wednesday night, while we were safely in Sainte Marine, a deep low brushed along the Finisterre peninsula, generating waves of 5.1 meters (16.7 feet). A second low followed in quick sucession, and is still generating 3 meter waves on the Bay. The forecast for the next few dqys is good.

The 320 mile crossing, which will take 2 1/2 to 3 days, is the longest that we will have done as a twosome. I will try my best to give Howard some good rest periods during this passage. At least it will not involve any complicated navigation: just a straight line from the tip of France to the tip of Spain.

By contrast, our 73 mile sail from Brest to Sainte Marine packed some significant navigational challenges into a relatively few miles. The critical point in this leg was the Raz de Sein, a gap between the sharp point of a long peninsula and an 11 mile line of small islands and rocks that begin just offshore. The currents run very fast through the gap, and the seas can become dangerously high. The pilot books instruct you to reach the Raz at "slack" tide, plus or minus 15 minutes. That dictated a midnight departure from Brest, in order to reach the Raz at 5:52 am. Approaching the Raz, there were two meter swells, and no moon to light our way, but everything went well. Four lighthouses, and the first hint of daylight, helped to guide us through the gap.

As we turned the Penmarc'h Peninsula and approached Sainte Marine, we were struck by how simimar the coastline was to that of Eastern Connecticut. The tall cliffs of the northern coast gave way to long,sandy beaches, backed by gentle hills and forests.

We will depqrt Brittany with a few of the must see destinations checked off and many others to be saved for the future. A high point was a weekend visit with a beloved friend and a former neighbor, Diane, at a seaside house in St. Malo, where she and her mother spend the summers. Diane and her family (including two children the same ages as our David and Elizabeth), lived across the street from us in Harrison for two years , when her husband was on assignment in the United States. We have one of those relationships that always feels close even though we live a few thousand miles apart, and that makes our last visit seem like yesterday, even if it was more like a decade. The time at their house was a combination of wonderful friendship, hospitality, and scenery. Their elegant house faces the sea and a magical garden that descends through a series of secluded terraces, to a seawall and steps leading to a beach. The walled city of St. Malo can be seen in the distance.

Diane's mother, Renee, was born within the walls of St. Malo, and remembers seeing the city shortly after it was bombed to rubble during World War II. (Among other pictures adorning their walls is a picture of her, in uniform, when she served as an ambulance driver after the invasion.) Post war, the city was rebuilt stone by stone, creating almost flawlessly, according to Renee, its pre war appearance. It is, in any event, magnificent.

Before we left, our conversation turned to literature. On our next visit, Renee says she will help me read some Marcel Proust, or at least get through a few of his sentences. For now; I will use the Bay of Biscay passage to budge French words from my left brain and replace them with Spanish.

Adelante!