La Houle, the Biscay groundswell, lurks offshore. Hardly noticeable, in calm conditions, until the depth shallows. Sending the orbiting water particles tumbling, head over heels.
To reach the shore as surf. Rearing high enough to give would be beach bathers, contemplating a refreshing dip, pause for thought.
Such is the case, for the Bourgenay entrance. Whose starboard (green) marker is placed at the tripping point.
On the quayside, the Capitainerie, cum tourist office, enjoys a ringside seat. A line of pavement cafes beside it. With bright parasols, casting an inviting shade, upon their customers.
Tall pines clamber up the slope to the village. With a gothic chateau, once home to a revivalist religious sect, and a small camp site, nestled beneath their cooling canopy.
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