Ad Lib 80

 

Stargazer sets sail in search of a cooling breeze. As Vannes proves too well sheltered for this week's Saharan heatwave conditions.

Desert islands slip by. Robinson Crusoe picnickers seeking out the shade of their tall Scots Pines.

Swimmers plunge from slipways.

Whilst moored boats wait for their summer-season-owners. Before high walls, surrounding the manicured grounds of grand houses.

All hands turn out on deck to sweat up the heavy gaff of a pilot cutter.

Today's neap tide treats Stargazer more gently in the narrows than did the spring of our entry. 

Stargazer gurgles out of the Golfe du Morbihan. Making a sedate (for these waters) seven knots. We secure shortly after, in Crouesty, to decide our next move. 

Ad Lib 79

 

Rumours of an alcohol ban, in light of extreme heat levels, prove unfounded. With refreshingly cold lager served, in reusable plastic ‘glasses,’ to those on the hoof.

Whilst patrons seated before the overflowing bars and bistros, sip wine from bottles plunged into ice filled coolers.

Not that alcohol is required in order to enjoy the Fete de la Musique. Families turn the crowded quayside into an impromptu picnic table. To take their evening meals.

Snacking from street food stalls. Which have sprung up on the closed-to-traffic-carriageways of the Vannes harbourside and Old Town.

Almost every cafe has a live act performing. Music, of every genre, mingles in the Midsummer air.

 Complementing the main event, on a stage behind Stargazer. Where the sets share Celtic roots.

Usually with an edgy, electronic twist. For the twenty first century.

The repertoire a reminder of the ancient cultural bonds between Breizh (Brittany), Cymru (Wales), Eire (Ireland) and Kernow (Cornwall).

Ad Lib 78

Such is his Pied-Piper presence that, when the sorcerer with the speaking trumpet hails, all fall beneath his spell. And follow his lead.

Be they aboard a rowing club skiff or cooling off with a man overboard moment.

Be they human or hound.

The magician's dog, however, requires additional inducement, in the form of a thrown tennis ball (right hand).

Once the lock gates and bridges swing shut, the cruising boats stop moving.

 Leaving the Port of Vannes as the sheltered preserve of the Rowing Club. With its mesmeric chief instructor on hand, to entertain onlookers and motivate would be watersport enthusiasts.

Ad Lib 77

 

The weekend is here. Which means work to be done. For the skippers and preparateurs of the Glenans Sailing School.

The fleet has returned to Vannes. A jovial hubbub of fond farewells have been bidden. Between newfound brothers, and sisters, of the sea. The skippers are alone with their strangely silent craft.

 With practiced eyes, they survey the scene. Where to start? What to prioritise? Come what may, new clients are coming their way.

Some adopt a cerebral, paper based, approach to their preparations.

Others are instinctively more 'hands on.'

The fleet will celebrate tomorrow’s Summer Solstice at sea. Exploring the Golfe du Morbihan, and beyond. Sharing the wonders of a cruising life.

Across France, Fete de la Musique celebrations will be in full swing. For Vannes, the Midsummer Night festivities centre on the harbour. Where Stargazer and her skipper have secured a ringside seat. (Picture from La Rochelle, Fete de la Musique 2022)

Ad Lib 76

 

A projection of power fashioned from stone. To the height of available technology. Reflecting the depth of its builders' purse.

Like Carnac’s Le Géant de Manio, Vannes’ Cathedral Saint-Pierre crowns a hilltop. The two separated by just thirty miles, as the angel flies. But five thousand years in time.

Both dwarf their human creators. Reminding them to remain humble in the face of a higher authority. Saint Vincent Ferrer (see Ad Lib 75) stands at the cathedral's imposing double doors. His eyes drawn heavenward.

To the slender spire. . . .

. . . . chased with intricate gothic detail. . . .

. . . .which spears above the city rooftops.

Within, a stained glass story is told of the Christian scriptures: A lowly birth; the servant lord become peaceful shepherd; who tends a flock of saints and apostles.

Along with a suggestion that a more assertive and hierarchical interpretation, of the sacred texts, is possible. One of triumphant armed conquest, supplication and venerating crowds.

Perhaps rooted in more ambiguous religious times? Before the dawn of written history.

Ad Lib 75

Close set streets, built for exploration by human foot or horse's hoof, straggle up a shallow hillside. Cool shadows and warm pools of sunlight shake hands, from overhanging upper storey windows.

Space is at a premium within the mediaeval walls of Vannes. The city's spacious green lungs and lounging spaces lie beyond its ramparts.

With mighty gate arches granting, or denying, access between the two. The most imposing, Vannes's 'front door' if you will, gives onto the harbour.

Stargazer's skipper is able to marvel, daily, at its grandeur, seated in her cockpit. (Gate arch between the main and mizzen masts of the ketch)

Albeit from a low perch. Which necessitates a certain craning of the neck.

High above the milling crowds, Saint-Vincent Ferrer, after whom this ancient portal is named, raises a protective hand. Should he ever lower it, so local legend goes, Vannes will be swallowed in one gulp, by the Golfe du Morbihan.Like a lost Atlantis.

Ad Lib 74

 

Shutters are thrown open, in the stately facades of Vannes. The better to catch a cooling breeze and to bask in the embers of the setting sun. Languid evening strolls are enjoyed, around the quayside at which Stargazer rests.

We sailed from La Trinite with the long armed oyster boats. Not long after low water. 

When the aquatic farms, which they tend, have uncovered and wader clad 'field' hands set about their work.

Two hours later, Stargazer arrives at the mouth of the Golfe du Morbihan. Sucked in by a swirling spring tide. Seventeen knots of breeze on her quarter.

Stargazer's skipper saws at her tiller. Eyes rigidly fixed upon the white Petit Vezid daymark. Jib furled, to aid forward vision. Tide whirls and cross currents shake Stargazer's bow this way and that. Like the proverbial dog chewing at a tasty bone.

We bear off, for Ile Longue and Gavrinis. The current across us now. Running faster sideways than we are sailing forwards. Urging Stargazer toward hungry granite teeth.

We crab past Ile Berder. Into the heart of the inland sea. Stargazer's course straightens. Her skipper's heart rate reduces. 

The scenery slips by at a more sedate pace. Allowing time for the splendour and scale, of this watery wonderland, to strike home. Islets and pinnacles stud blue waters. Small craft put out from countless craggy coves.

A Breton lugger companionably keeps pace alongside. Withies, oyster racks and pastureland line the southern horizon.

Stargazer lopes along the Arradon shore. North of Ile Aux Moines and Ile d'Arz. Her skipper still attentive to pilotage, but venturing to brew a soothing pot of coffee. 

Before we gybe to clear the chapel topped Ile de Boedig. Clearing the Roguedas shoal. Stargazer's skipper once more alert at the tiller.

His eyes locked on 'the pink house.' Which indicates the leading line, to clear an unmarked reef, that lurks on the inside of the bend.

The close set, tree topped, cliffs of Port Anna blanket Stargazer's wind, for a while. Before an obliging tide, and a gentle zephyr, carry us to the head of the Vannes channel.