Le Palais, Belle Ile 

Yet again the weather wasn't particularly stunning but the wind was in our favour and we left Kerneval just after lunch.  As we headed out the sea was pretty lumpy but my developing skill in helming, which I was practising again, has meant I have overcome much of the seasickness I was experiencing early in the adventure.  Chris insisted that when we were out of the shallow "harbour approach" area and on to our heading towards Belle Ile, the waves would be more settled and running with us.  He was right, but I had to grit my teeth for half an hour in the meantime.

With both the wind and tide in our favour this was a very smooth trip, the only moments of excitement arose from our top speed contest.  We had one reef in the main and had furled in some of the genoa yet I had achieved 6.9 knots whilst helming in a 14 knot breeze and Chris wondered why I could sail faster than him so I handed over the tiller and, though it took some time (and in stronger wind I reckon) he eventually clocked 7 knots!

As we approached Le Palais the sea’s lumpiness returned.  We thought we would drop the sails and motor straight into the harbour and pick up a mooring, but, outside the breakwaters a number of yachts seemed to be "hanging around".  In true British fashion I did not want to be seen jumping the queue so we waited too, feeling a little self-conscious.  Soon we heard a loud hoot from inside the harbour and out shot a large ferry!  Just as well we waited, the other yachts started to head in and we followed.  Once inside we realised they had probably been waiting for the lock gates into the wet basin to open.  We didn't want to be restricted by their opening times and so we rafted up beside a couple of French yachts already safely attached fore and aft to the visitors’ buoys in the harbour.  We decided there must have been a regatta under way because it seemed as if hundreds of yachts were pouring in and going up to the wet basin – it had not looked that large on the chart.  Much to the amusement of the neighboring and passing crews, Chris entertained them with his mooring buoy antics of hanging off the pulpit like a monkey to get our line through the eye in the buoy.  This is a method he prefers to use rather than the more conventional boathook and it earned him quite a round of applause!

We could have spent a week exploring Belle Ile, the largest island off the Brittany coast, but we made do with a couple of days!  As its name suggests, it is a beautiful place, and we were fortunate that the elements decided to remain at bay during our stay.  Being on a mooring it was necessary to pump up the dinghy in order to get ashore.  Once inflated, we paddled the dinghy to the nearest breakwater where I tied the painter to a ladder, but, as Chris stood to leave, the dinghy drifted away!  Chris was quick to inform me in a surpisingly calm manner that my knot failed, in a rather fundamental way, to enclose anything connected to the shore!  How am I ever going to live that down?

The ferry, mentioned earlier, moors up in the harbour over night and we watched as the crew threw lines to men on the shore. As we passed, one shouted "Madame, catch this!", in English and threw one of the leading ropes my way!  I just laughed and ducked, wondering how he could have known that I was not French!  As we rounded the edge of the harbour walls we were glad not to have attempted entering the wet basin because it was chock-a-block! 

The town is dominated by the Citadelle Vauban, a magnificent star shaped  construction with a long and fascinating history of which we learned more on our visit the next day.  We had not planned to pay a visit but having had our appetites whetted by the discovery of overgrown fortifications all around the town, we made plans to visit and find out more.  The Citadelle dates back to the 16th century but was extended and restructured a number of times.  Perhaps most notable, in terms of English history, was the time this apparently impregnable citadel was captured by the Royal Marines in 1761.  To this day the laurels, which were awarded to them for this feat, are still seen on their cap badge.

One of the highlights for me was a strange circular building called The Tower of the Powder Magazine.  Its domed roof encouraged the most amazing acoustics and standing on the centre spot on the wooden floor the slightest sound was greatly amplified.  I did a little tap dance there and laughed as it reverberated around us.  Highly amused, we were glad we'd had the place to ourselves, because behaving that way isn't entirely British!