Ad Lib 73

 

Lazy Boy, a tiger burning bright on the La Trinite pontoons. Yann Gapais' JPK 1050 is still in residence, after seizing third place at this spring's Spi Ouest regatta (fully crewed category). In which, yard owner, Jean-Pierre Kelbert (JPK) won all four of the double-handed races. Sailing with Alex Ozon, aboard JPK 1050 PersaiVert.

The JPK 1050 (described by JPK as 'a mini Class40') has taken the thirty-five foot, short handed, offshore racing scene by storm. Since Jean-Pierre celebrated the design's launch, last year, by winning the legendary Fastnet Race. Aboard his own JPK 1050 Leon, this time teamed up with Alex Loison.

Such is La Trinite's popularity, amongst racers and cruisers alike, that space to moor a boat is perenially at a premium. All available deep water long since occupied by moorings or marina pontoons.

A problem which the town has tackled by the construction of a giant Port-a-Sec, on a stretch of open land below the bridge, over the past couple of years. 

Boats are lifted ashore between outings. Relaunched as required. Which suits the seasonal, or occasional, use to which many owners subject their craft.

A summertime high hovers above Stargazer. Bringing long sun filled days and light easterly zephyrs. Conditions in which passage distances must necessarily be kept short. Tomorrow evening, we shall make for the island-bejeweled waters of the Golfe du Morbihan. Where tidal assistance will be available aplenty.

Ad Lib 72

 

A shaft of sunlight pierces the leaf canopy, to light the glade before me. Birdsong and wind-sigh fill a silence which hangs heavy as a velvet drape. In the distance, Sunday church bells peal.

Underfoot, the sharp crackle, of twig and pine cone, seem shockingly loud. As I follow an overgrown path further into the deep green of this forest realm. 

Fashioned from a fissure in a bluff, the Dolmen de Kermarquer slowly reveals itself, from amid dappled shadows. Built, by a mysterious civilisation, long before the coming of Christianity. 

Their edifices, oft as not, engineered around the curves and contours of the living landscape. Further on, the Tumulus of Keroc'h tops a natural rise. Its entrance marked by a standing stone. 

The man made works cloak themselves in nature's infinite variety of foliage: Dark and sharp. . . .

. . . .soft and bright. . . .

. . . .dainty and diaphanous. 

A wildflower meadow surrounds the Dolmen de Kermario.

Which is of wholly man made construction: walls as well as capstones. The setting lent presence through its encirclement, by the massed stone armies of Les Alignements de Carnac.

Which emerge from the shade of the broadleaf woodlands.

To file over hill and dell.

Stretching for as far as the eye can see. Their procession three miles long. Their complement three thousand strong. 

Similar creations, of a smaller scale, are spread across the shorelines of Atlantic France, the Isles of Scilly and on north to Scandinavia. Suggesting that a seafaring society was their architect.

The purpose of this extensive and elaborate stone sculpting is much speculated upon. For, its statement still resonates powerfully, five thousand years after completion.

Ad Lib 71

A gauzy curtain, of sea mist, is swept aside by a briskly rising sun. Sleepy sailors emerge to sample the still air. Treading dew damp decks.

A swift flowing tide sweeps up the La Trinite channel. Sending out scouts to explore each rill, pool and harbour basin, as it passes.

It slaloms through the meanders beyond the bridge. Where the oyster beds, and the spider-armed flat bottomed craft, which work them, lie.

Past a group of gentleman's day sailors. Gathered for a Saturday morning get together on a marina pontoon.

Past cruising boats resting from their travels.

Below them, Armel Tripon's multicoloured IMOCA and a cluster of Class40's also put their feet up. Today's conditions insufficiently spicy for their tastes.

At the first sniff of a sea breeze, sails are hoisted, amidst a mass clicking of winch pawls. The starting gun, for the weekend, has been fired.

Ad Lib 70

The latest and most radical of the Ultim trimaran tribe streaks by. Gitana 18's foils vapourising the blue seas above which she soars. A fledgling, launched on Valentine's Day.

For now, her flight is faltering. She rises and falls like an LA lowrider 'cruising' on a Saturday night. So radical are her foil, rudder and rig designs, that a summer-long tune up will be required, to ready her for October's Route du Rhum. 

Stargazer stole out of Concarneau by the light of a sickle moon. The skies still studded with stars. Six knots of breeze ruffle smooth waters.

Gently they belly Stargazer's cruising chute. Magically conjouring silent motion.

Dawn breaks. Drying dew drops from the decks.

Stargazer clears the point, at Trevignon. Her skipper bears off, onto the rhumb line. Heading east toward an ascending sun. Groix visible, off the port bow, by breakfast.

Soon Stargazer is beneath the tall cliffs of the craggy, emerald topped, island. For the tide has turned fair and the heat of the day is fanning a sea breeze into action.

Gitana 18 taxis for takeoff. Out on commissioning manoeuvres, from Lorient La Base. Sensing, like Stargazer, the promise in the day's forecast.

White horses begin to prance. Stargazer's speed rises, to the low seven's of knots. Her skipper debates whether it is wise (for the health of the sail) to continue to carry the cruising chute. Deciding that this ride is too much fun to miss.

One gybe carries us through the Teignouse pass. Its stubby light tower guides us clear of the pinnacles and outcrops. Which litter this short cut through the midpoint of the Quiberon peninsula. Stargazer surfs on a rising swell, topping eight knots.

We race toward La Trinite. Armel Tripon (he who  commissioned Sam Manuard to bring the scow bow to the IMOCA class in 2020 - thus issuing in a new design era) rockets out of the entrance. 

Stargazer's skipper scrambles about her foredeck, as soon as we come under the lee of La Trinite's welcoming headland. Dowsing sails, throwing out fenders, readying lines.

Armel fast disappears into the seagoing playground of Quiberon Bay. A warm sun beams upon the crew lining his rail. A jolie-brise sings in the rigging. Spray flies, swell pumps. It is the stuff of sailors' dreams.

Ad Lib 69

 

Small figures hoist huge high-tech sails from springy trampolines. Which are strung between SVR Lazartigue's slender hulls.

The powered halyard winches are carefully controlled, by watchful eyes beneath the jet fighter style cockpit canopy.

As the Ultim trimaran prepares for sea, in the light airs  of yesterday morning. Before the walls of Concarneau's Ville Close.

Meercat heads appear through hatches. Blinking in the bright sunshine. 

Before burrowing back into the dark recesses of the floats. Which house the complex foil control hydraulics, required to keep SVR airborne at forty knots.

If our luck is in, Stargazer may have fleet-footed company during today's passage east. (Written before setting sail.)

Ad Lib 68

 

The black dog's evident excitement, together with its owner’s slightly overwhelmed air, convey something of the Ville Close experience.

Access is via a stocky stone bridge. Which is built narrow and arcing left. To simultaneously defeat a battering ram charge at the gates; and to disadvantage advancing, right handed, swordsmen.

The deterrent, of a mediaeval drawbridge, has been replaced by a more welcoming modern fixed structure. Those who would enter, have important choices before them:

Linger, listening to the softly strummed folk melodies of the busker beside the portcullis?

Stroll around the battlements?

For the Ville Close is a rocky island, fortified and made stronghold for the townsfolk, of Concarneau, in time of strife.

March purposefully toward the designer boutiques? Which have sprung up where market traders once hawked exotic wares, to a waiting garrison.

Filling cobbled alleys with their enticing cries. The air rich with the scent of roasting sweetmeats. Crowds milling, sampling; moving from stall to stall. Like honey bees, foraging for nectar, in a wildflower meadow.

Explore the quieter, residential corners, enclosed within the walls?

Or rest a while in the square? Surveying the swirling, shifting, people-scape.

  

Whatever the distractions within, Stargazer's skipper must heed the wise words of the weather man. Who foretells that our fortunate run of west winds is to end. Tomorrow, Stargazer must make good her easting.