SKL's Walking Blog

Île aux Moines – 1

Le Lerio – Pointe du Trec’h – Pointe de Brouel Loop – 18th May 2024

The woman at Hotel L’Ezenn got up at seven to give me breakfast so more top marks for her.
A quick ferry ride back to Quiberon then a short car trip to Port Blanc, a five minute ferry to the island and an early check in and I was sorted.
Unlike the other islands that are out in the ocean, this one has no sand dunes and only a few beaches. It feels like Strangford or Portaferry. Of course, that might be down to the Saturday influx for it is hardly difficult to access.
I did have to park a ten minute walk from the harbour to avoid French parking tickets, but no strain.
I’ve spread this island over two days mainly because the flights home mandate that I stay an extra day anyway so might as well take it easy.

The harbour at Île aux Moines (Monks). The gulf of Moribhan looks a lot like Strangford Loch. Loving the pink catamaran.
If they leave it untended much longer the witches will move in. I have it on good authority that they like just this type of house.
Out from Le Bourg all the streets are like this.
Running off this main drag. Again there is no traffic noise. Brill.
You can just bet that once there was a lovely menhir here. This type of cross monstrosity is called a Calvary.
Point du Trec’h looking east.
Pointe du Trec’h looking north and west.
It is turning into a lovely day.
Transport seems to be bicycle or moped or motor-scooter with attached trailer. Grannies and Grandads whizzing by, grey hair blowing in the wind. Just the job.
Don’t know the waders, maybe a grebe. Oyster beds in the background. Very big on oysters around here.
I noted this is also in Portugal and Spain. Where we enclose our electrical transformers in high, unclimbable fences with razor wire to compliment the, ‘You will die,’ signs here, as there, they feel that the sign is more than enough.
Does that mean that our youth are more stupid or, that some jobsworth thinks that they are?
You’ll not like this, but back when the fences didn’t have razor wire, I and a beau climbed in and had coitus in one.
I can not imagine that the water was any better back in the day. Every drink came with free typhoid.
Perhaps it was a sacrificial well, got to get those menhir worshipers somehow.
Round the eastern peninsular and heading south again.
Very marshy the whole way along. Not doing the boots any good. Here though, a kind soul has plonked down a walkway to try to keep me dry. Marvellouso.

A small note, sad – well sad to me. I heard my first English since leaving the airport, though it wasn’t from a tourist but from a waitress, who was English and felt that she should let me know and speak English to me to make it easier. She triggered both my snobbery and patronised me. Sow.
I suppose that I must get used to the unasked for aid now that I’m greying and showing as an old un.