The Spell of Ille de Brehat

Jumble of Granite and Sea

A breeze ruffles my hair as I breakfast in Stargazer’s cockpit. We’re surrounded by craggy castles of rock standing in moats of rippled sea. Stargazer swings to her anchor adjusting herself to lie more comfortably; to balance the tug of the tide as it gurgles past against the playful shoves of the arriving sea breeze. We’re lying amidst a jumble of granite and sea off the south west tip of the Ile de Brehat. The mingled sounds of birdsong and the joyful Breton shrieks of children playing on an old boathouse slipway on the main island carry across the water 

Brehat Sunset

This morning I awoke to a mysterious, enchanted, soft fizzing, popping song from beneath Stargazer’s hull. Air bubbles escaping from the kelp beds close below our keel, the song of shrimps? Our arrival last night had an almost magical quality. After the long beat down from Guernsey a grey smudge on the horizon gradually resolved itself into: tumbles of golden brown granite; forests of navigation beacons, booms, towers and cardinal marks; inviting beaches, alluring pools, enticing anchorages. The setting sun highlights the natural pinks, reds and browns of the rock before sinking in an orange ball behind the black silhouette of a black tree crowned crag. By then Stargazer has gently felt her way in among the sheltering rocks and found herself a sheltered pool to lie in overnight whilst the tide drains silently away around her.

The breeze builds from playful shoves to a full sea breeze fed by the warming rays of the sun. The tide is making too. Stargazer is tugging restively at her anchor, straining at the leash, eager to be on her way. I finish my breakfast and make sail. We won’t go far today though. A spell has fallen over me. I must stay a while; explore more of Brehat’s delights. We head east to start a gentle anti clockwise circumnavigation of the island. La Chambre anchorage, on the south coast, slips past to starboard: Tall angular towers of rose pink granite, green trees, blue sky and sea. The turreted pink granite houses are oddly at one with the scenery; man made reflections of the natural forms surrounding them. The tide is up, cloaking Brehat’s hard craggy body with the soft shimmer and sparkle of the sea. We thread our way through a maze of markers, booms and buoys warily watching depth gauge, chart plotter and the swirl of the tide.

Breton Lugger outside La Corderie

We’ve timed it right. The tide draws us hungrily down back the west coast of Brehat towards the Trieux  river and on to Lezardrieux if we choose. Today though Brehat’s spell is still on me, beckoning us in to La Corderie on the north west tip of the island. Or as far in as a full draft boat can get at spring tide. We reach in under sail. Circle, tacking and gybing round on our chosen spot just west of the Men ar Fav beacon. It’s the classic spot and we have it ourselves! We circle imitating our swing on the long scope of anchor chain that we’ll need to cope with the height of tonight’s tide. I want to be sure that Stargazer will lie in the soft embrace of the sea tonight and not grind on the hard rocky bones of Brehat! The depth gauge says it’s too tight for comfort. It’s actually not that sheltered here either in this breeze. We harden up and I steer, disappointed, back out into the main channel. My spirits revive at the sight of a traditional Breton lugger foaming her way past Stargazer. Waves, greetings and smiles fly across the water.

"My" Desert Island

We feel our way back in among the sheltering granite in the long comet tail of shattered rock, golden sand and sparkling blue sea streaming downriver west and south of Brehat. We won’t have the bulk of the island to shelter behind tonight. But once we’re in our pool, and the big tide sucks its cloaking waters back out to sea, the sand and the crags will be our shelter.  I watch the anchor plunge down from our bow, through water as clear as the air above it, and bite on a sandy bottom. The tide drains away and Stargazer and I are left in our lagoon, cocooned by sand and rock. I row ashore. Sit on “my” desert island beach; watch Stargazer curtsey at her anchor to acknowledge the final buffeting crescendo of the sea breeze before it, like us, settles down for the night.