Piriac Saturday 13th Aaugust
Steve
The sail from L’Orient to Belle Isle was pretty uneventful -30 odd miles downwind in a force 3-4 pretty perfect really except for a traditional cock up with the cruising chute.

We’ve sailed to Belle Isle before and were rather unimpressed. We had stayed in Le Palais (the sort of capital) so this time we decided to pick up a mooring buoy outside the tiny harbour of Sauzon. Sauzon is a really charming town/village and we decided to have a rest day and stay for two nights. Our outboard had refused to start so as intrepid English we paddled the dinghy with canoe oars thru the swell to find a quaint little restaurant in a rustic shack overlooking the harbour = Chez Carole. The restaurant had obviously been here for decades and Carole seemed to be known by everybody. Not that she smiled at all and was generally rather grumpy, treating both tourists and locals with similar disdain. She only served whitebait and grilled sardines. As this is all they did they had become rather good at it and we had a fantastic meal topped off with an ice cream passagiata and a paddle back to the boat. (no pictures of what we ate!).
The next day, being a rest day, we walked the cliff paths, paddled the dinghy and rode bicycles around the island to have a better look (and buy a new spark plug). No resting allowed. Belle Isle is actually extremely belle and we’ve done it a huge disservice over the years. (Weverbird at anchor in the picture). We’ll be back.

Today we’ve traveled East into a E3-4 and had to beat; something we haven’t had to do for the last 100 odd miles. We snaked thru a tiny passage in the Quiberon archipelago (Teignouse Passage) littered with lobster pots into a very well protected corner of this coast of France and have stopped in Piriac sur Mer, a small renovated medieval era beach resort. We’ve never sailed this far South before and are keenly looking for dragons

When we arrived at Piriac they gave us what I can only describe as a goody bag containing, haribos, a tin of mackerel, crisps, shampoo, quinoa and something that looks a bit like polenta made from flour. I’m not quite sure why = perhaps they are taking pity on the pauvre anglais

In one of the harbour restaurants is an extremely accomplished one man blues band with an assortment of guitars, harmonicas, drums and multiple effects pedals. He’s obviously been playing the Atlantic restaurant scene since the 70s. I’m sitting on the boat in the sun, kir in hand and planning where to go next. Life is good.