We departed Morgat and were surprised to find a small cruise ship anchored just outside the harbour, as we didn't think cruising would be on anyone's agenda just now. In the port and town of Morgat, you couldn't go anywhere, even outside, without a mask. We motored the 3 miles to Anse de Saint Nicolas, which appeared to be the most sheltered anchorage for the forecast north easterly winds overnight and the closest we could get to the Raz de Sein. The bottom wasn't sand, so we ended up moving and resetting the anchor three times before we were both happy that the anchor was on and we weren't too close to rocks or shallows when the wind turned. I didn't want a repeat of the grounding in L'Aber-Wrac'h. The anchorage was a bit roly but never mind. We were in bed for 8.30pm, with the alarm set for 4.30am to enable us to run the Raz de Sein at slack water at 7am. We were up as planned and the small yacht which had been anchored close by had already gone. The morning was warm, with no wind and we could see each individual star twinkling on the water, as well as the almost full moon leaving a glimmering trail further out across the bay. It was magical. We set out heading for a prominent rock, as we knew this would avoid the lobster pots, the position of which we had noted the previous night. Once we were clear, we set our course for the same west cardinal we had rounded on our way to Morgat a few days ago. Having passed that we altered course slightly towards the lighthouse marking the entrance to the Raz de Sein. It was interesting to identify the lights, from way marks and other boats, something I hadn't done for a long time. Pete was down below when a lobster pot marker flew by the port side of the boat, in the dark, frightening me to death. We were in 40 metres of water and I wasn't expecting that. Luckily we didn't catch a line round the rudder or the prop. The sky behind us started to turn yellow, then pale orange and we started to make out distinct shapes, including the yacht from our anchorage. The clouds ahead of us turned pale pink and mauve, as they started to reflect the sun. Everything had a beautiful tinge. We passed the little yacht pretty quickly, sharing a friendly wave and as we approached the headland we witnessed our first sunrise of this trip, as a glowing ball of fire rose behind the rocky outcrops. We arrived in the Raz de Sein bang on slack water around 0706 local time, with hardly any wind and very little swell; perfect conditions. The most exciting this notorious piece of water became was 2 minutes of spikiness, where the water seemed to jump up and down in vertical spikes. As we approached the end of the Raz, we had a short, sharp rain shower, accented by a beautiful rainbow and by 0850 we were moored up on a visitor bouy in Sainte-Evette, at the mouth of the river leading to Audierne. Taking into account the hour of time difference, it was exactly 4 weeks since we departed Grimsby at 0750 BST. We headed back to bed for a couple of hours, to catch up on some sleep, before taking the dinghy ashore and walking up the river to Audierne, where Pete had his first visit to a Breton Creperie. I most enjoyed my dessert crepe, tangerine liquor and sorbet, flambe. We returned to the boat to watch the comings and goings of the yachts and watersports enthusiasts, with Pete heading out in the dinghy to 'rescue' an Irish girl who had become too tired to get the sail of her windsurfer out of the water having capsized for the umpteenth time. A French yacht owner called up the rescue boat who towed the girl back in. We were then visited by the harbour master, paid our €11 berthing fee and took up his offer to deliver croissants and fresh bread in the morning. You can't do better than that!