Camaret, The Alne and Chateaulin

As we were promised, Camaret has proved to be a real favourite for us.
When we first got here the weather- which always plays a primary role – was fairly unsettled. Sea mist hung persistently in air for several days and at times visibility was reduced so that the street lights of the shoreline were difficult to make out.
Sunny jim was anchored 300 meters from the mole- the man made breakwater that offered protection from the atlantic swell and from here we could see the comings and goings of small commercial fishing boats, ferries and pleasure craft. Across the mouth of the bay, sandy beaches lines the shoreline, and further on a grass footpath followed its way up a steep cliff along the waterfront.

Although most of the weather we had at Camaret was unsettled, we did have a few sunny days. On one occasion, after a quick reccy in the dinghy, we all decided to go along the pebble shore to explore the beach. Upon closing the land, we were greeted by a huge rock formation unmasked by the ebb tide and climbed onto the beach, our feet slipping on the large pebbles which covered the shore and heaved up the dinghy to a safe level before securing it with rope around a large boulder. The sun shone overhead and the jagged edge of the cliff face worked its way down creating a natural barrier between where we stood and the other side of the rock. A low arch, carved out of the stone allowed us entrance onto a private pebble spit, hidden on the other side of the cliff face where the ebb tide lapped gently on the shore, uncovering and covering humps of granite rock embedded close inshore. The water, although cool, was crystal clear and we could see oysters partly camouflaged, clinging on to there rocky homes. Great colonies of mussells clung together in groups and we would have dug in if it had not been out of season and the mussells were small. Instead, using a chisel and a stone I chipped away at the oysters and sucked out the meat.
Later, whilst Clare and Henry played in our hidden cove, I climbed a slate rock to have a look at what was over the other side. The slate descended down onto a flat stone platform and beyond that, derelict concrete posts layed horizontaly together to form a kind of concrete rectangle spanning 40 metres across to the other side of the bay. I stood on the platform, following the route I would have to take across to get to the other side. A concrete wall which spanned the width of the structure prevented- at low water, the sea from surging into the cove so on one side the sea lapped up against the wall, and on the other side, the clear water stood still. It was like looking at an enormous part man made fish tank teeming with sea flora and colourful weeds. As I walked along the front wall I became aware of a really unusual sound. There must have been some kind of hole in the wall, beneath the waterline level leading from one side to the other. The flow of water, sucking through, made a heavy breathing sound –as if a giant in deep sleep taking in a deep breath through huge nostrils, pausing, then breathing out again. This went on continuously and I felt like I was 9 again- discovering new and exciting things by the sea.

It was Camaret that we met Mike, who was anchored just a short distance from us. After a couple of days of friendly waves passed, Mike rowed over to us and introduced himself. During the course of drinking tea in the cockpit we discovered that there were in fact some really interesting places to go to in the Rade de Brest, information which we had heard contrary to in the past so planned to follow Sea-Witch – Mikes boat up to Chateaulin along the river Alne. It was only a short distance to the Rade de Brest, and then into the Alne estuary following the river for 20 odd miles inland it would take 3 days of unhurried sailing/motoring. After the jostling we had had recently in uncomfortable swells, the prospect of sitting at anchor somewhere up a calm river seemed like a good idea, so we made preparations to leave.

Sunny jim had been motoring for miles up the unbuoyed and sometimes shallow waters of the river Alne. We spent one night just anchored in the river looking up at the steep hillsides populated with dense undergrowth, and took Henry for a walk ashore along the river bank.
The following day, we continued to follow Mike up to Port Lornay, through a lock, and moored up alongside the riverbank which ran parallel to this remote village. Although the rain was extreemly persistent, the views of the hillsides in the distance loosly shuffled behind one another in shades of grey, gave the impression we had travelled through somewhere far more exotic.
That evening we lay listening to the sound of the wind rising and falling gently buffeting the side of the boat in the gusts.

Chateaulin was everything Mike mike said it would be. The Alne winds its way up and is crossed by a low arched bridge in the centre of town which prevented any further progress up the river. We had come alongside the quay wall and threw out our lines and quickly settled in a place which offered us all of the ameinities that you might expect from a town and full protection from bad weather, without the expense of marina’s. The supermarket is 2 minutes away, wifi is offered cheaply and we have managed to blag a key to the showers without paying for it. It remains to be seen as to whether we are able to get access to the showers for our stay here without getting clobbered for the bill.

We have also done some fairly big jobs during our stay here. The engine has clocked up its 150 hours of use so a full service has been undertaken. We discovered that you can purchase oxalic acid in the local supermarket so have also attacked the cockpit with scourers and brought the scum and ingrained dirt out of the gel coat, finally finishing the job with a good dose of teak oil and a squirt or two of wax. The boat is looking really good – better than it has ever looked to be honest, and both of us await a delivery of English books at the poste restante before we go back to Camaret and jump off into the blue. Its getting a little late in the day for an ocean crossing in these latitudes but with careful timing our next arrival will be a place considerably warmer than here.