britTany
2003 - roscoff
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La Pointe de Bloscon, with
the St Barbara Chapel, separates the deep-water harbour of the
ferryport from the tidal harbours of Roscoff proper.
The approaches to the tidal
harbours thread through shoals, rocks and tiny islands. Not all
of them, by any means, marked with lights or other warning symbols.
Roscoff, the town, from
the eastern breakwater ...
... and from the main quayside
...
... with the town lighthouse.
Very few people were about
in Roscoff, at this 'early' hour (8:15am!). The low light made
avoidance of my shadow impossible in some shots, but here it seems
to emphasise the near-deserted 'early morning' nature of the place.
Roscoff 'old town' from
the main quay, with the Ile de Batz in the distance far-right.
This elevated causeway,
possibly 500m long and just wide enough for an emergency vehicle
to access (with pedestrians pressed closely against the rails),
leads from the main quay to the jetty for the ferry to the Ile
de Batz.
The spire on the parish
church of Notre-Dame-de-Croas-Batz was the first I had seen of
the typical Breton lacy style that I believe is supposed to present
less wind resistance and allow maximum sound transmission of the
pealing bells. There seems to be something of a touch of India
about these domed pinnacles.
Affixed to the wall of an
old building is this plaque commemorating one of Roscoff's claims
to fame, the others being that Mary Stuart landed here in 1548
on her way to be affianced to the Dauphin and Bonny Prince Charlie
fled there after the Battle of Culloden. It seems that the French
onion sellers who, up to about 50 years ago, travelled Britain
with strings of onions dangling about their bicycles believe that
they were christened Johnnies by the English. They seem to be
unaware that 'johnny', as well as being a euphemism for a condom,
was used as an alternative epithet to 'bloke, chap, fellow' or
even 'thing'.
Leaving Roscoff and heading
for our hotel we called in at Carantec where we found the parish
church with a similar but simpler bell-tower ...
... and the streets filled
with stalls for market day.
The purveyor of these monster
loaves and the cooked meats appeared to have travelled nearly
200 km to this market.
We were unable to experience
the view of the Baie de Morlaix from the Chapel on Ile Callot
as in the intervening four hours from arriving at the bare basins
of Roscoff the tide had risen to cover the access road.
The village of Le Dourduff
across the Morlaix River ...
... and journey's end, Morlaix.
Continued
in Part III
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