After the frenetic atmosphere of Pont Aven over the weekend we truly appreciated the peace and quiet of the aire de camping car in Nevez. We had the place to ourselves until late afternoon, then another van arrived. It was owned by a French couple who lived near Brest. Though they were both Bretons they had never visited this particular spot in their home region. This is not unusual, we have lived on the fringes of the Peak District National Park for 35 years and there are still some parts of it we have never visited.
We never found out the names of our neighbours but we were introduced to their pets - a small grey hairy dog called Gadget and more unusually to Marshmallow, a large white and pink parrot. We know from being surrogate parents of a dachshund that dog ownership is not something to be taken on lightly, but it's burdens pale into significance compared to being responsible for a parrot's well-being. Marshmallow was five years old. Typically they can live for forty years and exceptionally have been known to reach 'three score and ten'. In Marshmallow's case, his owners, in their sixties by the look of it, had extracted reassurances from both children and grandchildren that after they had passed away the following two generations were equally committed to keeping Marshmallow safely locked up. There was something about the arrangement that made me feel disconsolate. Caging birds for entertainment is not something I think we should tolerate never mind encourage.
We needed to find a campsite, after a couple of days using the on-board facilities we begin to crave a proper shower, we required a washing machine too. There were plenty of Acsi sites to choose nearby, we opted for one of the nearest at Raguenes Plage.
It's a pleasant wooded site with hedged, generously sized pitches. A path from the leads across the fields to the coast about half a kilometre away.
It seemed all very familiar, though we have never stayed at this site, we used the nearby beach a lot when camping with the kids as it was only a ten minute drive from the Domain de Kerlan we used on family holidays.
The coast here is certainly not unfrequented, but it's much less busy than the bay of Concarneau around Benodet and Loctudy. One reason why this area between Raguenes and Port Manech is less developed is there is no road along the litoral.
A string of headlands and small coves are connected by a waymarked footpath. It's a lovely undeveloped stretch of coastline.
Westwards a minor road runs towards the Point de Trevignon. Next day we unloaded the bikes and pedalled towards the small settlement.
We recalled there used to be a fresh fish stall on the quayside. Would it still be there we wondered, or would leisure craft have entirely replaced the small flotilla of inshore fishing boats that used to moor here?
We were glad to see a queue of people at the stall, it was shellfish rather than whitefish on offer, but it was heartening to see that local fishermen were still making a living here.
However, we were not here for the fish. The local creperie across the road from the harbour had excellent reviews and following our somewhat underwhelming experience in Binic we felt we could not leave Brittany without having truly delicious 'ble noir et froment'.
La Mariniere came up trumps on both fronts. The place itself had a great seaside vibe and the people running the place were lovely.
We had booked into Raguenes Plage for three nights. On the final day we pedalled along the coast to the nearby village of Kerascoët. It's famous for 'les chaumiéres' - thatched cottages, quite common in parts of southern England, but rare in France.
The village is quite literally a living museum, there are inhabitants but they are outnumbered most of the time by tourists clicking away.
So in a sense the photos I took completely misrepresent the place as I chose shots which deliberately excluded all other people holding up phones taking similar pictures as me.
Consequently every one of my photos has been de-humanised, ideal as a subject for a jigsaw puzzle but bearing little resemblance to how the place actually looked.
Beyond the village a narrow lane drops down to the sea. The Anse de Rospico is somewhere else we came with the kids. It's a sheltered narrow inlet with a gently shelving beach, safe for toddlers.
The sand is white and the tidal lagoon goes turquoise blue when the sun shines.
We did have some great family holidays hereabouts. However it's easy to over-romanticise them with hindsight.
The experience of the last couple of days, camping next to an English family with three kids reminded us of some of the challenges. Not that their children were badly behaved, if anything the elder two seemed oddly quiet. The youngest looked about fifteen months and was going through the phase of what we dubbed 'the screamin' abdabs'. Her outbursts of pure fury during the day were not so bad, but the child found settling at night difficult and had a tendency to join in with the dawn chorus. It was only when we moved on from the campsite to being the only occupants of a Camping Car Park on the outskirts of Douarnenez that I fully appreciated how much I need peace and quiet these days.
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