Touring.
We decide to have an easy start and head for Camaret, just around the corner. It's a resort town now, but like Brest, was heavily bombed during the war, and you can still see the gun emplacements on the cliffs with the little bunkhouse for the crews. You imagine a summer's morning like this, but after a raid, with the towns on fire, the dead and wounded, and the destruction of buildings. Now it's time for the Chenal du Four, with a favourable Spring tide, but quite a lot of mist.
We arrive at the Pointe St. Matthieu and find ourselves beside 2 other little classics similar to Marcita. It's always reassuring to arrive at a tidal gate and find other people there at the same time. We are swept along at 7 - 8 kn, very fast for us, and the harbour master at L'Aberwrac'h finds us a smooth berth. It's a wild-feeling place at the corner of Finisterre and always significant for British yachties as it's the cusp round which everything turns.
In order to continue, to Roscoff or Morlaix, we must leave at 4 am, which is not met with shouts of glee by the crew. Ian and I pick our way out between large rocks looming in the half moonlight. It's as well to try and avoid ones like the picture. We haven't done a detailed pilotage plan, relying on, we count, 8 chart plotters on various devices on board. They don't let us down, but the wind does, and we end up motoring most of it. The next question is whether we can get up the Morlaix river in time for the last lock of the day at 1130, or whether we should opt for the more certain entry into Roscoff. Ian's asleep, and I decide to try for Morlaix, knowing that if we miss the lock we risk going aground on the way back down the river and spending the day on our side, hopefully not on a rock. We get there with 5 minutes to spare, and berth comfortably.