29^th August– 23^rd September

It took us 31 hours to cross from Falmouth to Brest, arriving late in the evening, in a rainstorm. Slowly we sailed with wind from behind, right up until Chenal du Four where the current carried us along nicely at 10 knots… Our maximum speed is usually 7.

Brest has a big bay with a small entrance that you can enter with the tide, several beautiful islands lie in the centre, with sandy beaches stretching along the coast. There are also many military bases, boats, helicopters and aeroplanes that fly alarmingly close to the mast, way too early in the morning. We didn’t love Brest, and after a hike to the supermarket, we left our dodgy little anchorage where the anchor really wasn’t holding. Since Niels hadn’t left the boat for 3 days and we were going slightly crazy, we went for a walk in the rain, finding loads of blackberries, and “burrowing” some gorgeous crispy apples from a garden on our way. There´s wild herbs growing along the coastal paths, fennel, mint, lemonbalm and oregano, and we made some interesting pesto! The coastline is incredibly beautiful despite the rain, maybe because of the rain. An early autumn feeling crept up on us, with the apples and berries already ripe, but many plants are still only beginning to blossom,  we could really appreciate the long evening light with a bottle of cider on a wet bench before ´pruning´ a big bay tree on our way home.

On the 1^st of September we sailed to Cameret-Sur-Mer where we had our first croissants of the journey, and bought a rucksack full of cheese which we immediately ate on the beach until the tide came up. The following morning we sailed 21 miles to Douarnenez in perfect conditions, it only took 4 hours and we could take a scenic detour between some crazy rocks that stood maybe 5 meters out of the sea. We also accidentally found ourselves in the front of a regatta.

The next few weeks where around 30 degrees every day. We installed our water maker (that transforms sea water into drinking water through osmosis, incredibly cool!) and messed around in the water, pulling each other behind the boat on ropes. This was great fun until I saw a barrel jelly fish, so called because they are the size of a barrel, and I never wanted to get in the water again. From Dournenez we went around the Pont-Du-Raz into the Bay of Biscay, heading to Lorient where we would pick up my sister Saskia. There was hardly any wind, and we had a few long frustrating days where we mostly went backwards. It was also our first experience of Atlantic swell, which made some anchorages very unstable, and getting to the beach by dingy basically impossible. One of the hardest times was a beach near Gulvinec, where Niels put out the back anchor so that the waves came from the back not the side, and found a little bird in the water. After sleeping in a saucepan for the night, it had the ride of its life the following day in the dingy. Here we met a friend, and as we sat and watched the bird adjust to land life we spoke about sailing, Brittany, crossing the Atlantic and losing his boat on the Atlantic. No big deal, he´s standing here today he says!

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The Blackberry Pirate would sing

Purple juice running down his chin

Of sweet autumn nights, and the hedgrow fights

that this Blackberry Pirate did win 

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We went on, slowly creeping down the coast in huge zigzags, that took us almost back to where we started that day… the only blessing was the dolphins, more than I have ever seen, maybe 20 surrounding us, huge and playful, splashing us as they breathe. They are in it for the race and when the wind goes, so do they, to the next fastest boat, leaving us boring sailors to do our boring zig zags against the wind.

It was around this time that we met some real life ´pirates´. At the time a group of six in two sailing dingies, but at the beginning of the summer there had been 8 boats, who knows what happened to the rest… They Sail for the whole summer down the coast, and the following summer back up, sleeping on the beach and cooking on fires, playing music in the evenings and eating seaweed. They had rainbow decorated boats with funky fabrics, and a homemade spinnaker made out of umbrellas. They travel without sea maps or  VHF radios, but have a an experienced captain on each boat, most of the time. We had a fire together and headed back to our boat feeling like kings and queens with our luxurious little boat, with its cooker, cupboards, and roof.

On the evening of the 9^th we picked Saskia up after another eventful day sailing against the wind. There was one of those moments where the sky changed and went orange, with ominoiusly shaped clouds. This has happened a couple of times, and every time we´ve been distracted by how weird it looks that we forget to check the wind. It reached the other boats first and sent them sideways so we knew what was coming, unfortunately there was still food on the table and I was not prepared which I helpfully shouted to Niels, as though he could pause it just for a moment please.

The sun has never not shone on Saskia´s birthday, and this was no exception. In fact the whole week was bloody boiling, and there was no wind. Perfect for exploring the many beautiful little islands. Our dry bags came in very useful and we packed our towels, snacks, and swam to shore to lay on warm rocks and pick blackberries. It was also great weather to scrub some of the algae which began to grow on the bottom of the boat in the last weeks probably because we were sailing so slowly! Together we went on many long night walks looking for supermarket bins, but were very unsuccessful until we found 2 Koalas behind a Super-U, and some pallets which we had to carry for miles to make a bonfire. It wasn’t very relaxing, as all the beach-bugs of the night proceeded to crawl into the fire where they wriggled around and burnt while we tried to pull them out, only for them to dart straight back in.

Our last stop with Sas was the Gulf de Morbihan. An infamous bay with a narrow entrance and over 40 islands inside. Tidal currents rush between each one, and to even enter the gulf needs careful planning. We did not have a plan for once we had entered the gulf, and proceeded to drift backwards while we panicked trying to work out where to anchor.

Finally we decided on an island. The anchor didn’t hold, no matter what we did, so we put a weight on the chain and hoped for the best. We proceeded to drift in circles around the anchor chain all night as due to an anomaly in the current. Tall pine trees guarded the lands edge, and as we quietly walked across it (it was apparently a private island which is ridiculous) we saw two huge eagles fly up through the trees into the evening sky. We collected crazy oyster shells growing in abstract clusters, and watched the sun go down. Back on the boat we saw that we had neighbours. Their anchor also wasn’t holding, and we spent the evening trying to work out if we were drifting towards each other, and watching them do the same, laughing whenever we flashed our head torches at the same time.

After dropping Saskia back on land for her 30 hour journey home we tried to leave the gulf against the current. It did not work, and we were propelled backwards back in at 9 knots, allot of fun only when there´s no other boats around! A few hours later we made it out, and after watching all the other boats go into a harbour, we anchored nearby wondering why we were the only ones. It was very windy, and the anchor didn’t hold. At 3am we felt the anchor slipping (its very loud), and we had to move to the other side of the bay, further away from the rocks we were drifting towards.

Our plan was to sail straight to Nantes to visit friends, and then cross the Bay of Biscay, but how often do things really go to plan when sailing…

We made it 19 miles on the 16^th of September before the wind completely died. It was a further 57 miles to Nante, a long way to motor. Hoedic, a tiny island was just a mile or so behind us, and we motored there for the night. It was here that our plans changed.

Firstly, to go Nantes would be too expensive and too much of a detour inland.

 Secondly there was a big Atlantic storm coming, bringing huge swell into the Biscay, we would have to stay in a harbour for at least a week, which would also be very expensive. The Bay of Biscay has mostly harbours the further you go in, we didn’t want to get stuck waiting for a window to cross over, paying 50€ a night.

A river would provide the most protection, so we decided to head back towards Douarnenez, shelter from this storm, and wait for a weather window that would let us continue on down south. We sailed 62 miles through the night, Arriving at 4:40am in the Odet, a river that runs through Quimper. The glowing dolphins followed us almost all the way again. Here we were safe from the storm. For 6 nights we sheltered in our little boat, and exploring the forests and fields in the gaps between the rain. There was a huge golf course, ripe chestnuts and hazelnuts, blackberries and bushes of wild samphire which we ate every night with lemon and olive oil. There was also loads of reduced price cheese at the supermarket. Perfect for a storm!

 It was so peaceful on the Odet that we genuinely considered staying for the winter. We also hadn’t stayed in one place for more than 2 nights since we left Falmouth, and the realisation that we had been rushing forwards ever since leaving Germany in May was dawning . Trying to get to Norway by this deadline, and Scotland by the next. There wasn’t always time to connect with people on the way, time to climb a mountain, or explore every forest we wanted to and it was catching up with us. We also hadn’t had time to do much work on the boat, or spend relaxing or creative time together. It had been such a whirlwind since leaving that I think we forgot some of the things that are really important to us, like community and music, and craft. With these realisations still fresh in our minds, our sail back to Douarnenez felt significant. Like we were looking for somewhere to settle for a few months. Somewhere with a music scene and funky sailors, (not just retired old men on fancy boats).

61 miles later in Douarnenez, we were welcomed by the most incredible bioluminescence we had ever seen, and we made our first friends in a bookshop/jazz club/events-space. We danced like animals, and later found a crazy rock concert, where while eating crisps for dinner on a wall at midnight, I decided that this is where I want to stay. That night We also met Constanze through her street facing window, who introduced us to everyone we needed to know, told us about all the best hardware shops, climbing trees, beaches to swim naked without getting shouted at by angry French people, music nights, zombie games, bakeries and she let us store 75 kilos of grain in her living room, even when we discovered that they were full of moths. Thank you Constanze.

In just under 4 months, we have sailed 2,564 miles, landing in 9 different countries with massively diverse landscapes and sailing conditions. From rocky Swedish islands guarded by mosquito colonies to the 300 meter deep Norwegian fjords, navigating between oil rigs on the North Sea and speeding along the Scottish coast on unexpected currents. We´ve been chased by Irish seals while in the dingy, followed glowing dolphins to Cornwall, fished our first three fish, and had a traumatising experience with an apparently immortal mackerel. We learned that `Spring Tide´ is not only in spring ( it´s very high and very low water every full moon) and also had our first taste of Atlantic swell in the bay of Biscay, all to be continued next year…

Now we are stretching our roots into the rainy soil of Brittany, burning wooden vegetable boxes from the street to keep the boat dry, and manifesting projects and dreams for the following months; with our sewing machine, welder, pasta maker and new sourdough baby.