What a lovely island. Ferry was a bit late but still got to the hotel about 10.30 and although the proprietor’s French was way too fast for me she managed to get the point and I was able to leave my baggage in the room. Top marks. The south, west and north coasts are old dune landscapes and the east coast cliffs wet with ferns and foliage and trees. The Bourg sits up the hill from the port in the east. A very pleasant well kept village of whitewashed houses and few – as yet – closed up second homes. I started on the west, headed north and came south down the east coast back to the Bourg for a brilliant lunch of pork chops and veg, which almost rivalled the veal T-Bone that I had last night. Just me – a single person for lunch in the whole restaurant and it was superb. La belle Francais.
Down to the first beach a hundred yards from the hotel. It is pouring down on me but across the way, Hoedic is in sunshine. Probably be the other way tomorrow when I’m there.A mile of it stretching back to the south. I’ll come round that point last thing and up this beach to finish.I see these little things around the place and now I understand what they are for. The peeps would light fires in them to guide the boats in to the harbour back in the day.Dem ole Nazis where here too of course. A gun emplacement of sorts. Heading towards the north end. Not sure the little fence is necessary but never to be sniffed at.That far headland is the most westerly point and then I turn east for a short bit then south. maybe two hours away.Another lovely beach I can cross.An hour later, doesn’t seem that much closer. All these bare scrub dunes make for excellent walking.Now then, a giant palm up hand with fingers curled, I think.The old Belle-ile-en-mer appears through the haze.Loads of these Menhirs about. I assume that a French archaeologist has checked.No travelling chicken today just his understudy, travelling grouse.Another. Now this religion started by a pissed off farmer lasted thousands of years, far longer than Christianity or Islam, and extended throughout Europe from the far north – Orkney – to the far south – Malta. But we haven’t the slightest clue to what Gods they were raised. That grumpy old bastard had no idea what he was kicking off.The blush of pink is clover and is all over.I’m as always in awe of the power of wind and water.The western most head at last.The northern most coming up.Looking back, the pink flush is very pronounced.The Napoleonic fort and beside it, still in situ, the German guns.I’m sure that the menhir on the left was pushed over by the bloody Christian f’ers that erected that cross.Ah! the fleet’s at sea to take advantage of the wind.The enemy fleet hiding in the next bay along.Some Gods’ awful spider webs in those pines. I’d best be quick.The sole survivor of the battle for naval supremacy.The harbour.Just had a lovely lunch and now heading through the village again. The church, quite plain for a Catholic gaff.The old Moulin.Back to the harbour and up the last little hill.Kozh Kastell beach then round the most southerly point towards the west.A nice tramp along that beach to the point and then I turn around the corner to …Well, a slight pause while the beach’s civic council get out of the way.This one. The original one I started on. Just a mile to go.The hotel is that one with the reddish roof. My room the far right 1st floor.Heading back into the village for a café. Rather good doorway.
Houat all done. A nice ten miles or so with a great stop for lunch. I like this island very much indeed. It has that atmosphere that small islands have but it isn’t dead like great parts of Belle-ile-en-mer.
