Daybreak was accompanied by pleasant birdsong, including a nearby cuckoo. We first heard a distant one last Monday but this one was right beside the truck.
After coming round a bit we decided to head for Le Pointe de Corsen; the westernmost cardinal point on continental France. It was only about 20K south of where we'd kipped and we agreed it should be one of those 'why not' type of things.
It was right enough, too. It was by no means busy or overplayed but there were some useful and interesting information panels etc around and about, including the inevitable multi-fingered signpost giving the distances to some fairly interesting places; and some cities that I'd personally never want to visit.
Whilst there, we saw a Brittany Ferries ferry rounding the headland and heading south towards the Bay of Biscay and presumably thereafter Bilbao or Santander. We could see through the binoculars that it was being pitched about pretty violently and shared glib and slightly scoffing tales of how things must be aboard.
With something of a rather less detached glibness It then occured to me that within four hours or so we ourselves were due to sail out of Roscoff for Plymouth and - what with the Atlantic being quite big and all that - we were very probably soon going to be rather less scoffing about such things. Or me, anyway: Emma could do such crossings whilst in a fairground waltzer whilst drunk and still experience not even the slightest nausea.
The drive back to Roscoff was a straightforward affair and the port queues and officialdom a comparative breeze. We did - of course - have the invariable spin by border force officers, which followed the usual pattern of one officer initially demanding entry whilst looking very stern, but within a few minutes a gaggle of them smiling, nodding and chatting between themselves whilst pointing out various features of the truck's fit out, equipment and systems.
Though I don't routinely report it these days, the truck has again on this short trip drawn an awful lot of attention and interest and we've had many positive interactions with people pointing, smiling, waving, thumbs-upping and, on three or four occasions, have even hosted brief walk-arounds and peer-ins. Such brief positive encounters can, and often do, leave a mild egomaniac misanthrope conflicted.
Anyway, post by-now positively cheerful border officials we bumbled onto the ferry and commence with the purgatory.
Tonight, because of our late arrival, we plan to sleep at Plymouth port and then do a parkrun quite close to the port first thing tomorrow morning. Thereafter it'll be a steady bumble back up through England with an ETA at the place we sort of call home around midday on Sunday.
All in, this has been a really pleasant break. Emma's had a great solo adventure and I (then we) have had a really laid back pootle through some lovely bits of France, enjoying some lovely Spring landscapes and a few unexpected bird sightings. The bits of Brittany we traversed this time were (mainly) very much bits that do not feature in guide books, and the region has risen a point or two in our estimation as a result.
Indeed by keeping things mainly off piste we haven't even seen that many camping cars and the ones we did see were all French bar a couple of Belgians and Dutch.
OK, we're under way and clearing the harbour: feeling seasick now ...
Post composed at 15:00 on Friday 10th April from a ship about to hit some swell @ N 48.74843°, W 03.94340° / http://maps.google.com/maps?q=loc:48.74843%2C-03.94340
