A small hop to the next Ville Close
Lesconil turned out to be a (probably) dull but slightly charming little place. All very pretty and all very quaint. We had a short wander around in search of a boulangerie. There was barely a soul on the streets and barely a sound could be heard.
A quiet Sunday morning in pretty Lesconil.
So, we grabbed our baguette and kouign-amann and headed back to Yuma and scuttled back out to sea.
Off to Concarneau
We had hoped to go out to the Îles de Glénan, supposedly Carribeanesque islands about 8 nm to the south that came recommended by the French Douaniers that had boarded us in July. Our plan was to anchor there for a couple of nights but the forecast winds and the exposed anchorages around the islands meant that wasn’t really an option. So instead, we opted for Concarneau, a walled town a similar distance east where we hoped we would be able to get a berth for a couple of nights – enough time to enjoy the sights, raid the fish market and to stock up on fruit and veg.
The harbour entrance to Concarneau.
A lazy Sunday morning
There wasn’t a breath of wind so with just 10 nm to Concarneau we decided to motor along at a leisurely pace. David kept watch while playing mandolin with sea-salt sticky fingers (not easy and sorry to the mandolin), while Frederieke checked on weather predictions and options for the trip ahead towards the Gulf of Morbihan. The water rolled along under us, smooth, metal blue and disturbed only by the occasional boil of sardines and tuna. The day oozed ‘laid-back’ and even the gulls and murres were too lethargic to get excited about the feeding opportunities presented by these boils. Instead, they just sat lethargic on the water watching and imagining how good those little fishies might have been inside them, if only they could be bothered.
The marina is right next to the walls, pretty cool!
Only one night?
In Concarneau, we pulled into a visitors berth and were immediately told by a harbour master, in no uncertain terms, that we were only welcome for one night. No discussion possible. So, we paid our dues and headed out for a walk to see the old fortified town.
The entry bridge into the Ville Close.
La Ville Close
Like St Malo, the Ville Close (the old walled inner city) has been given over to tourism. Thankfully though, it being outside the French summer holidays, it was busy but not extremely so.
Various bits of wall and fortifications around the Ville Close.
These fortifications were built in the 1400s but were subsequently updated by all and sundry; even our old mate Vauban had added a defensive flourish or two. They were certainly impressive and the old town, hidden away inside, was nice.
Street scenery inside the Ville Close.
We managed to fit in a couple of hours in the very interesting Musée de la Pêche (Fishery Museum). Lots of clever displays on fishing through the ages, along with the usual claims that more than 50% of fisheries are now sustainably fished.
Fish are everywhere in Brittany’s coastal towns, even as stencils on the walkways.
This latter claim being in direct contradiction to the evidence that almost without exception around the world (and including the best managed fisheries) they are being fished well beyond sustainability. Ah well, industry is like that.
A highlight in the Musée de la Pêche, a real coelacanth! Albeit dead.
Other Australians!
After an ice cream we wandered back to Yuma, stopping to chat with Jacky onboard CathayOz, the first Australian boat we’d encountered in 19 months of sailing. Later Wayne came to Yuma and invited us over for a drink after dinner. Social arrangements in place we headed back into the Ville Close for a scallop dinner (not nearly as good as in L’Aber Wrac’h), before heading to CathayOz where we met Sophie whose husband is the Chinese entrant, Xu Jinkung, in the Vendée Globe race leaving from Les Sables d’Olonne in a month or so. We had a very pleasant, chatty and late evening.
Concarneau outside the Ville Close was also quite pretty.
Another night
The next morning, not having seen all that we wanted to see in Concarneau, we went up to the Harbour Master and asked him if we could stay another day. The regatta that he was making space for didn’t start for another couple of days so there was no urgent need for us to depart that we could see. After some consulting of lists and a bit of constructive muttering he announced that staying another night would be fine and so we got to spend another day wandering around and even managed to squeeze in a pleasant run along the waterfront.
