If you head South from anse de Dinan, you will (eventually) reach the southern tip of the Crozon peninsula, the Cap de la Chèvre. The promontory is fairly disappointing at first, especially after Penhir. The view is nothing new. The Marine Nationale holds the best lands, once again. There is another memorial, to the dead of Aéronautique Navale, including some pioneering balloon flights victims. The memorial itself looks to me like a huge accusatory index pointing at the sea.
But as you go back north on its western side, in the shelter of the high spine of Cap de la Chèvre, the peninsula reveals its most glittering facet. The water is beautiful; turquoise, calm and clear. It has carved caves and arches in the tall sandstone cliffs, leaving islets and peninsulas, in particular the Ile Vierge, Virgin Island. Beautiful pebble beaches are on the most part inaccessible from the land, unless you have ropes. You could be in a pirate movie. Or in Corsica, if it was 20 degrees warmer! It is as beautiful as unexpected.
Bracken and gorse give way to dry woods of maritime pines, gorse and heather. Signs warn against fire (Curious? See and read here). The coastal path is rocky at times, crumbly at others, precipitous almost always. Tortuous, it has had to change its course as the soil tumbled down. It also goes around dangerous chimneys where rainwater has eroded the soft stone out to sea. You have to be a goat to be comfortable walking here. Could it be where the Cap de la Chèvre got its name?
As I eat my picnic and rest my sore legs, a family passes by in a sea kayak, a long way down from me. Next time, I will hire a sea kayak, it looks much easier than walking. And it lets you land on the beaches. I wave at them, and the little boy shouts “Coucou!”. I reply, and then I am amazed to hear him clearly when he suggests to his parents they could see me tomorrow. The air is as still and clear as the water. For the first time in Crozon, there is no wind.
Eventually, the trees become taller and I enter the wood of Kador. Its eighteenth century fort used to defend the pretty harbour of Morgat. Now derelict, it hosts a rare colony of bats (Curious? See and read here) . Morgat was a traditional sardine harbour, before over-exploitation led to its local extinction. You can still see the remnants of this history, the rusting carcasses of sardine boats, not in Morgat but in Camaret-sur-Mer, as outdated as its Vauban tower.
Morgat’s marina is too prim for rusting boats. It was developed as a seaside resort from 1885, and is somewhat reminiscent of some English resorts. Sheltered from the West by Cap de la Chèvre, Morgat’s sandy beach faces South-East. Its water is warm, clear, quiet, perfect for all sorts of family fun. Ice creams and crêpes on the promenade, well deserved after such a demanding walk.
When you leave the presqu’île de Crozon, your eyes filled with wonders “en avoir plein les mirettes“, there is one last magnificent sight for you. The pont de Térénez is a fan cable-stayed bridge which takes you over the Aulne river. It provides a beautiful viewpoint on the wooded valley, with the tidal river at the bottom. But its curves and lines are so graceful that it becomes the view. Thankfully now, architecture connects rather than defends.