Watching The Catch Come In. Friday 12th June 2009.

We headed out early today to explore some traditional fishing villages of Bretagne. The fun began on the way when we stopped for petrol. We filled up and drove to the booth to pay. You put your cash in a little dished area while sitting in your car, the lady pulls the money through to her side and ‘voila’ off you go. John had not put the money in far enough for it to be pulled through and the lady was trying to explain from behind her glassed booth. Well, John could not understand what she needed, he knew he had placed the right money there. Booth Lady became exasperated at first, but the longer the car rocked with belly laugh after belly laugh courtesy of Julie, AJ and I, she began to smile and to see the funny side of silly tourists without a handle on the language. I have not laughed so long in ages and boy do I love a good laugh. You should have seen the line of cars behind us by the time we got ourselves sorted out!

Next problem, we seem to have a slow leak in one of the tyres but after a few stops along the way JR is happy it is holding its own as we put it through its paces. Onward we go.

Our first stop is at a typical little village on the coast of Bretagne called Kerity. Kerity was once in the centre of the maritime routes of Western Europe. The weather is not so good today and the tide is out showing the ocean’s sandy and emerald green, weedy bottom. We are lucky the rain subsides while we have a car boot picnic of baguette, garlic laced cheese, coloummiers, tomato, peppered pork and lettuce - almost worthy of the 'picnic from hell' tag. We finish with a sweet wedge of buttery Gateau Breton pur Burre.

Marc, a local sailor is heading out to his sailing boat in his dinghy and stops for a chat, another delightful encounter. He is rugged up against the wet and cold with gum-booted feet. His salt and pepper hair is topped with a peaked cap and frames his smiling face, “Give me your email address and I’ll send you some photos of Kerity on a sunny day” he offers, he is proud of his little home town.

He shares his local knowledge and tells us to head to the village of St-Guenole at 4pm to see the fishing fleet returning from sea with their rich bounty. It was the highlight of the day. Boat after boat arrived at the pier, heavy with tattered nets of green and orange. Every boat was laden with langoustines, squid, sole, lobster, crabs, rays, mackerel and so much more. We watched bins filled with the sea’s offerings get hoisted from the boat’s decks onto the pier, stacked onto trolleys and wheeled into the seafood auction while gulls squawked overhead.








A little fast talking secured us all a seat inside the auction with stony-faced buyers solemnly concentrating on what was being offered. They communicated on phones beside their seats to the men with the money, and whoever was the first to press his button bought the catch. The boys out the back were happy to show us one of the stars of the day, a 2.6 kg lobster, a female we are told.

What an experience, between chance meetings with charming strangers on the pier, to side splitting laughter, our time in St-Guenole was an utter delight. Gosh you make me laugh Bugs!



A little further south is St-Pierre. The main street is lined on one side with huts of green, blue and earth, manned by grandmotherly women with crochet hooks in hands, working away. They sell their hand crocheted doyleys, gloves, place mats etc to the brim-filled tourist busses who pass this way. One of the old dears must be 80 is she is a day and began to crochet when she was just a girl of twelve. It is nice to see handmade works of art being created before your eyes, they have an authenticity about them mass produced things lack. Good on you ladies!

South again is Port du Guilvinec, the largest port of the area where all the tourists go. It comes complete with a high up viewing platform where visitors can watch the boats being unloaded but at a distance, much more controlled and clinical compared to the excited melee we have returned from with fishermen, locals, market traders and the occasional tourist happily mingling together, each playing their part in the daily spectacle. In the main street there is a little chocolatier with a window filled with round nougat creations cut into generous wedges, in flavours of caramel, butter and salt, pistachio, and almond; the sight alone makes us drool.



We end our day at the town of Concarneau whose old ramparts encourage anyone considering just passing through to stop. We wander through the ramparts to a charming little street lined with restaurants and cafes but there is no one about and everything is closed for the night. Julie and I are mesmerised by the sight of a guy with hair in golden dreadlocks, standing in a small, timber boat, pulling himself along a thick rope to reach his bigger boat. We stand, quietly watching, snapping photos and enjoying the scenery. As he walks past us to leave, we swivel our heads to enjoy one last look. Behind us stood his lady and she was a little unhappy at the obvious pleasure we had received from her partner’s lengthy floorshow. Oops and pardon Mademoiselle!

We don’t have much choice but to dine at a bar/restaurant in the main square, it was average at best but did the job and got us on our way home. We were all so tired, AJ constantly chatted to JR to keep him wide awake, I could tell what he was doing and it made me smile to think how thoughtful he was being when I am sure all he wanted to do was to close his tired eyes.