The morning of the 7th July saw us through the Barrage Lock at Arzal which marked LJ’s return to sea water. We waved goodbye to Nina, who was driving our car home via Caen, whilst Richard and I sat waiting for sufficient tide to exit the river.
With no Radar, very little in the way of domestic Battery Power and an intermittent main navigation system and no wind readings Richard and I set off for England.
Whilst Nina was fighting her way to the top deck bar of the Brittany Ferry ‘Normandie’ for a deserved gin and tonic, Richard and I were having our own private battle against a fierce northerly wind as we headed for Port Haliguen at Quiberon. Arriving slightly battle wearied we had been assured of a fine dining experience at one of the numerous establishments in the refurbished marina. What we found however was a culinary desert. It would appear there was a slight confusion in French tense from our informant between the past tense of ‘the restaurants are built’ to what we found being more the present tense of ‘the restaurants are being built’. That aside, there was a bar and plenty of beer, so not all was lost.
This was to be a non-sightseeing tour and so:-
Day 2 : Quiberon to Saint Marine – another bar and a good pizza!
The highlight of this leg was having a French Border Force vessel come alongside and hail us on the VHF radio. They quizzed us about our passage as no doubt they had seen very little in the way of British boats moving within their waters over the past couple of years. My ‘Franglais’ was obviously improving, or just as confusing, but either way they very courteously wished us a safe passage and left.
Day 3 : Saint Marine to Brest via the Raz du Sein where our luck ran out…
Now that the UK is no longer part of Europe it has become necessary to get UK passports stamped on departure. This exercise becomes much easier when transiting through an Airport or Ferry terminal as they tend to have very smartly dressed officers with a stamp and an inkpad. If, however, you are departing by yacht then you have to present yourself at the Douanes office in a ‘nominated port’, Brest being one of them.
We dutifully arrived with all our papers, passports and our negative ‘fit to travel’ tests. We’d both had showers, wore clean shirts and even went the extra mile with a splash of ‘Old Spice’ for the occasion. It was a bright, sunny Saturday morning and we confidently sought out the building at 14 Quai de la Douane to find the office closed, in fact very closed, for the next three days.
We were advised to sail to Roscoff where, due to their being a ferry terminal, the Douane’s office was open 24 hours a day. We arrived slightly less presentable than at Brest having faced 60 miles of somewhat inclement weather. But it didn’t matter as this office was also closed.
Our only option was to embrace what any middle aged, grumpy old man would do and take things into their own hands and so we said goodbye to mainland Europe and headed north. By 10.30 pm that same day, as fugitives of France, we saw the familiar rolling hills of Devon and entered Dartmouth in the pouring rain.
Trip Mileage 254 miles
Mileage Completed 2526 miles