Flanery

 We were woken by vehicles parking up all around us. Of course we had to find out where everyone was going, and it turned out there was a car-boot sale nearby. There was much tat and some interesting stuff for people who have houses, one model for me, and some tomatoes I guess for us both.

Pretty good mask wearing. We'll look back at this blog in a few years' time and  go "Oh, yeah remember the Covid year? That was crazy!"

Ah, the classic 1969 Revell Stuka. Whatever, it was only 5€ so has at least gone to someone who cares, even if I don't usually do aircraft. (And at 1/32 this will be a big one.) Don't tell J but I've already spent another £20 on it, and I'll probably need paint...

We headed away from the excitement, north to the coast. We hit it back near Mont St Michel then headed west. The bay has more endless beach, this time with sand-yachting going on. Turns out we passed some stuff, but we only did our homework retrospectively (remind anyone of school? No? Just me then?) One thing we commented on was Uluru or as the French call theirs La Rocher du Mont Dol. It was a large lump of rock in the middle of the polder so stood out like, well, Uluru. (It turns out) it was a granite and dolorite corneal outcrop formed around 325 million years ago. Do you remember it Mum? You can see it for miles above the flat, and it would have had a great view as well if we'd bothered to stop.

Racing land-yachts. These were clearly not beginners as they were fair hoofing it.

Or target was a park-up in a supermarket but we found barriers over the entrance so were rather confused. We also found the shop was closing for the day, so that made it useless for anything! We worked out that the parks were around the other side but since by then we had a decent spot we just had lunch then headed in to town. I don't know what was up with my compass but it was 90 out so it'a  good thing J had her head on.

Cancale is a very popular spot even now at the end of a Covid-days holiday, and reminded me a lot of St Ives. Motorhomes aren't allowed to stop anywhere near the middle so it gave us some amusement to see a few trying it on. Still, it could have been us if J hadn't read the warnings. We looked over the oyster farms and saw the end produce that were being sucked down by the dozen all around us.

The tide has a huge range in these here parts. I hope the yacht at right goes with the tide rather than sitting on its side underwater.

There's an 18th C fort (at rear) to keep the Brits from stealing the oysters or otherwise troubling the port. No sign of German bunkers yet, but surely they're not far away?

The oyster farms. I really don't know how they work and there seem to be more modern ones down the coast. They look as if steel reinforcing for some massive building work has been left out. They are still worked though, but I suspect not as busily as some past time.

People seem to like the slimy little things.

They are in these bags in these racks, but what happens between tides? Do they just seal themselves up? I guess so.

There were seven competing stalls side by side which is an awful lot of oysters! I hope they last longer than a day.

And here they are, taken only with lemon.

The seagulls get to pick over anything left by the seafood slurpers, but it's mostly shell. Lots and lots of shell. (Why do I feel something useful used to be made from shells? I'm thinking they were burnt to make something... cement? gunpowder? fertiliser? what was it?

The seafront was wall to wall fruites-du-mer restaurants of course. The sun decided to revisit in the early afternoon and it got quite hot again, which was great frustrating since we had full rainy gear on. We flaneried for a few hours then headed back, and moved Reggie to an overnight stay with pizza van included (well, parked in the same carpark to be more precise). Not a bad pizza for vegetarian either.

(Click pic for full panorama)

J had too much speculoos biscuit, she claimed. This is the bit she couldn't eat. Pathetic. 😕