I am much too early awake for the Capitainerie to be open yet… So I grab another bike and ride around the area a bit. I come across typical Breton churches, stony-grey, built in the late Middle Ages, with their ossuaries standing next to them and the impressive stone crosses also standing in front of the churches. These so-called ‘calvaires’ are still familiar to me from a study trip with a good friend – entire crucifixion groups up to the proclamation of salvation and thus the story of Jesus are impressively depicted and were intended for all those who could neither read the Bible nor understand the Latin mass at all, i.e. for practically everyone who came to church. A kind of comic carved in stone, or like still series on a mobile phone. Stories told like this are memorable!
Later, I do the late registration at the Capitainerie, look at the overflowing form… and ask those interested in the ‘Petit Suisse’ and its dinghy here, which next place they could recommend to me (who asks leads, then I let them talk; besides, I fill out the form, pro forma, with several gaps; it is filed unread by the harbour team – Bienvenue en France).
It’s early September, and surprisingly still summer, really sunny and warm (much warmer than yesterday in England), but everyone is already talking about the storm that is soon to follow. Yes, this prospect presses a bit on the back of my neck, but at the same time keeps my head clear so I don’t start juffling. Maybe I can take advantage of the current good conditions and ‘slip through’ between the fronts? Just cover longer distances per day, see fewer towns. Instead, keeping my eyes open: ‘Reduce to the max.
Here in Loctudy I soak up the ‘light’ atmosphere once more (what a contrast to the humorous, but permanently gloomy ‘heavy’ England), and then set off in the early afternoon without knowing my destination. I use the glassy sea to daydream until I have contact with dolphins again and spend some time among them. – The longer I sail, the clearer it becomes that I don’t want to moor on the mainland today, but on an offshore island and spend the night, in order to call at Royan tomorrow. I now take the direct route, so to speak, and sail to Île d’Yeu; this means I am already on the northern edge of the Bay of Biscay.
Like yesterday, I arrive in the harbour late in the afternoon, this time in Port Joinville. The Capitainerie is closed, and the atmosphere seems a bit strange since I moored at the pier, a bit touristy in an unpleasant way: The people are rather reserved, are also rather excursionists who venture here from the mainland (from Nantes?), coming in their own boat or by ferry, to catch some summer feeling on this holiday island.
During the evening walk, my right Achilles tendon hurts, stupid. Were the jumps I did in Newlyn a bit much after all, or out of routine? – I remember well, after the awesome series of jumps on the huge staircase in front of the cathedral in Helsinki, I had been dragging an inflammation for weeks; is it coming back up now? So I limp more than I walk towards the nice looking harbour bars, sit down, order a crêpe according to the mood, and enjoy the successful day. Perhaps a little too early; as soon as the crêpe arrives, they want to see my ‘passe sanitaire’, so they check whether I’ve been vaccinated… My crêpe is returned, stuffed into a cardboard box, and I’m rather gruffly turned away from my little table – and eat the crêpe next door on the public park bench. Bon appetit.