On the corner of the Rue du Paradis, a vermilion hollyhock climbs a sun bleached cottage wall.
The road name, perhaps, a reference to Yeu's role, in offering ancient Renaults (a common sight) an afterlife. Once their mainland road running days are done.
Car-and-a-half wide carriageways, and an island two miles wide by four long, means that there is no call for the latest automotive technology. Bicycles comfortably outnumbering cars.
Rue du Paradis slopes gently up a low rise (for Yeu is all but flat), to arrive at the church. Its square tower, and stone walls, set off by the terracotta pantiles of its roof. And a white flagged plaza, shaded by trees.
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Broad steps lead down to the Port Joinville quayside. With its cafes and bars. Catering to the needs of sightseers, arrived (from Saint-Gilles-Croix-de-Vie and Les Sables d’Olonne) by ferry, vedette or helicopter-taxi. According to taste and means.
Beyond the harbour walls, lies a shoreline of rock pools, secluded sandy bays, jutting talons of rock and cobalt blue waters. Which cries out for exploration.
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