Qui voit Ouessant voit son sang

Just back from a working holiday on the amazing island of Ouessant. Managed to complete the coastal walk started on a previous trip and highly recommend it: for me it is far the best of all the Breton islands, being harsher and more remote than much vaunted, pretty Belle-Ile. That sense of being far out in the Atlantic (with weather to match - from hot sun to a wind force I've never experienced), and the lengthy, often rough, journey to get there adds to the experience.

Qui voit Groix, voit sa croix

Trip to the Ile de Groix in very bad weather yesterday. Whilst walking for hours in sodden clothes is not my favourite occupation, it turned into a great day thanks to my companion, a geologist - an essential on this island once tortured by tectonic plate movements that have left the most spectacularly dense folding and the coloured stones for which Groix is famous. Garnet dust turns many sands red, and tiny garnets stud the deep blue/green glaucophane.

My other goal was to visit the haunts of one of my favourite poets, Yann-Ber Calloc'h, a tragic loss to Breton literature at the age of 28 in WWI. To hear his moving lines about his beloved native island read aloud in Breton beside his memorial on the cliff-top was an experience that saturation could not spoil.

We left in a brief of spell sunshine, past the very unusual convex beach of Grand Sables, Groix gleaming greenly in our wake.

Ile de Sein

On the Ile de Sein today for my chapter on Breton islands. It's eight years since I was last here but not surprisingly it seemed pretty much the same. Strange experience, as nowhere is more than 8m high, and the surrounding seas, even on a quiet day like today, were rough.
Not sure yet what theme I'll rest on, but women and/or death are sure to figure. Admired Mathurin Meheut's drawings of women at work in the museum, which also has an extensive section on the war. I think enough has probably been written already on Sein's contribution there, de Gaulle's admiration and the illustrious honour of the Ordre de la Liberation.
High recommendation for the restaurant at the Hotel Armen, where I had the best cod fillet in seaweed sauce (one of my favourite dishes) ever, plus good homemade bread and home smoked fish with salad to start.

Guided tour

I was pleased to do a guided tour for the association AIKB today, highlighting some of the great sights covered in my new Saints Shore Way book. First we visited the remarkable crypt in the church of St Melar at Lanmeur, followed by a quick look at the Romanesque church of Kernitron.
Onward to the coast at the Pointe de Primel (pictured above - with those of the group who wanted a bit of exercise after lunch) where we had a picnic and some walked out to the gouffre or chasm between the butte and the culminating rocky pinnacle. This was an Iron Age éperon barré, or fortified peninsula, where the natural landscape was enhanced by artifical ramparts to form an impressive defensive position, occupied over later centuries by the Vikings, the English, the Spanish (Wars of Religion) and the Germans in WWII. Finally to the neolithic cairn at Barnenez, a site I cannot visit often enough, for a glimpse into the life, death and values of people in Brittany around 4700BC. This monument was called "the Parthenon of the neolothic" by culture minister André Malraux in the 1950s when it was classified as a matter of urgency to stop a predatory developer who had begin dismantling several of the eleven passage graves under the cairn.

Great day for guiding work, with those three top criteria - quality sites, lovely people and kind weather.

La Paimpolaise

My latest research trip was a few days in Paimpol as I'm writing something about 19th century Breton cod-fishing in Iceland. This incredibly arduous, grim and frequently fatal endeavour was elevated into a kind of super-heroism by popular culture of the time, notably the novel Pecheur d'Islande (1886) by Pierre Loti and the song summarising its whole story in six verses by composer Theodore Botrel a few years later. The latter has a simple and hence infuriatingly catchy lilt that keeps it going round and round in my head ...
J'aime Paimpol et sa falaise
Son eglise et son grand Pardon
J'aime surtout la Paimpolaise
Qui m'attend au pays breton

There are no cliffs around Paimpol, but that rhyme's an irresistible gift ...

This is what Loti dubbed the Widows' Cross, sighting point for the return or non-return of the ships. The excellent Musée de la Mer tells the whole painful story with a variety of documents and artefacts. Well worth a visit, and nearby is the unmissable Abbaye de Beauport. I've been numerous times and it was not on the agenda, but it's just too good to pass by, especially on a sunny May morning...

Tréguier

I've been in Tréguier, one of my favourite places in Brittany, for some research on the rationalist philosopher Ernest Renan, and more specifically the clash between the religious establishment and progressive Republicans in 1903 when a statue to the great man, flanked by Athena, goddess of Reason, was provocatively erected opposite the entrance to the cathedral. This building is associated with Tugdual (or more accurately Tudgual), one of the seven founding saints of Brittany from the Dark Ages, and later with Saint Yves, whose tomb and grinning skull lie there. The latter is the patron saint of Brittany and was an historical figure from the 13th century (d1303). His reputation as a priest and ecclesiatical judge was that of one predisposed towards the poor and disadvantaged. Odd that he is now the patron saint of lawyers, who come from all over the world to celebrate the Pardon on May 19th. Yves is also that rare thing - an 'official' Breton saint, canonised by Pope Clement VI in 1347.

Both St Yves and Renan are sons of Tréguier (600 years apart), offering me a profitable juxtaposition for the new book. Renan's great sin was to present Christ as a 'very remarkable man' (and not the divine son of God) in his lectures and book The Life of Jesus, published in 1863. This led to suspension from his teaching post until the Republican govenrment of 1870 reinstated him. The vicious caricatures of Renan with the Devil's horns and pictures of armed soldiers trampling good, honest citizens to the floor during the confrontations of that wet day in 1903 reflect the often violent polarisation of state and church during the later part of the 19th century, resulting in the final separation in 1905.
The immediate response of the Catholic Church to Renan's statue was to commission the last great calvaire in Brittany, erected on the quay of the Jaudy river at the foot of the hill leading up to Renan's family house and his statue. This lavish monument (complete with lists of donors) is called both the Calvaire of Reparation or the Calvaire of Protestation, depending on your religious stance. Renan's earlier spiritual advisors - for he had been intended for the priesthood, only experiencing a crisis of faith at the very last moment - refused to join the outcry about his book in the 1860s, retaining their affection and respect for him to the last.

Cornish trip

Great trip to Cornwall, walking the Saints Way with a friend (the Cornish artist Haddow, www.haddow-art.com) and publicising my own Saints Shore Way book, which details a long-distance walking trail on the north coast of Brittany conceived as an extension of the Cornish route.
The Saints Way (Padstow - see Camel estuary above - to Fowey) took form in the 1980s from the discovery of ancient granite stiles in a valley near Luxulyan. These were probably part of an old drovers route but they gave the idea of a north to south coast path that earlier migrants may have followed to avoid dangerous seas around Lands End. The path today connects many Celtic crosses and churches to give character to the saints' theme. From the harbour at Fowey, these Dark Age pilgrims set sail for Brittany, or ultimately for Jerusalem or Compostela.

Our two day walk was slightly marred by driving winds which made lingering on the heights of Saint Breock Downs an unattractive prospect, but we had a restorative night at the excellent St Benets Abbey hotel/B&B. I had quite forgotten the old problems of walking in England with dubious directional arrows across fields, farmyards to avoid and bulls in waiting. We don't have any of that in Brittany, which certainly simplifies matters. Give me track walking any day for ease of nagivation and that welcome give underfoot - there was too much road slogging in the Saints Way for a fairly short route (42 kms).
Also managed quick visits to Penzance and St Ives in the rain before a very welcome meeting with John Fleet of CERES (Centre for European Research within Cornwall) in Truro. Overall it was a fine experience and I added a couple of days in London with my nearest and dearest thanks to the overnight sleeper train from Truro to Paddington. Have to say though, it's good to be home in France.