A sure footed mountain goat surveys me from the ramparts. Sheltered, from the whistling west wind, by the masonry and by the bulk of the island. Which has its back to this weather.
I descend the steep stone steps, of a Sally Port.
Built to allow defenders to disrupt an enemy laying siege, without. Set within the thickness of the citadel's stone walls.
It emerges above a sandy cove. The cliffs forming a protected sun trap. The sally port offering respite, as short sharp rain squalls flit by.
Across the bay, there is a visible line of white caps, where the breeze touches down. After its deflection over the top of Belle Ile. My gaze is half on the view and half on the Fastnet Race tracker, as I eat my picnic.
For line honours have been claimed, in a record time, by Francois Gabart. Who stretched his lead, over Armel Le Cleac'h, on the way to the Cherbourg finish line. With more than half the fleet yet to round 'the rock.'
The forecast suggests a window, to head west, tomorrow. Albeit against wind and (slight) tide.
Picture Credits
SVR Lazartigue rounds the Fastnet rock. Courtesy of Kurt Arrigo / Rolex.
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