Standing stones and the people that fell from the sky…

Leaving our vintage caravan site behind us as we headed south west towards the megalithic monuments at Carnac in the Golfe du Morbihan, an air of quiet anxiety settled over us as we had flash-backs of our last adventure in Menhir-land on Corsica…

There, the ‘imposing megaliths’ turned out to be not that tall, and not that imposing, and whilst we enjoyed our trundle around the site at Filitosa on Corsica, it would be fair to say that we left a little underwhelmed. Having now embarked on a trip specifically to see fields full of standing stones, we hoped that what we may not find imposing in height, we may at least make up imposing in numbers.

The ancient site at Carnac is reckoned to be the most important prehistoric centre in Europe, and may have been continuously inhabited longer than anywhere else in the world, perhaps since 5700 BCE. With over 2000 stones making up various ‘alignments,’ there are certainly a lot of menhirs to marvel at...

Parking up at the free area for camping cars near the Maison des Mégalithes, we found ourselves free to wander around the fenced off stones, or, wait for a French language tour that would allow us into the fenced area. Our French leaving a lot to be desired, we decided that getting up reasonably close would do, and so we spent a good 90 minutes taking a leisurely stroll around the perimeter of the different alignments, with very few other visitors to be seen.

The stones were certainly impressive in quantity (including one with what we think might be a resident sparrowhawk), and whilst the experts are not agreed on their purpose, they do deliver an imposing experience of the scale of human endeavour. Particularly when you take into account that the people who started the trend only lived to the age of 30ish – that’s a lot of time, for a lot of your life focussed on stones, whatever their purpose. And, as we were reflecting on the visit over lunch, we were hard pressed to think of what from our own times might still be around in almost 6000 years times – other than plastic in the oceans…

We’d plumped for a trip to the Presqu’île de Quiberon for our camp up in this area, jutting out into the Atlantic as it does, marking the western end of the gulf area. It was a bit of a gamble, as once we’d started onto the peninsula, the only way to go was right to the end, and if we didn’t like it, turn around and retrace our steps.

With the weather brightening but windy, we opted for camping Les Joncs du Roch on the tip of the peninsula near the town of Quiberon, on the lee shore and adjacent to the local aerodrome where, we had read, much entertainment could be had as a variety of light aircraft took off and landed! The site’s location also delivered on being close to a number of beaches and cycle paths – in the unlikely event that it got hot enough to go to the beach of course!

Strangely, the day after we arrived was warm enough for us to spend a few hours at the beach, giving us an unexpected northerly intro to what we hoped would become a regular pattern later in the trip!

Sufficiently sunned by late afternoon, we returned to the van and debated overly long about whether to take a dip in the large and covered pool – it had closed by the time we’d decided it might be fun! The sea was certainly still too cold, for us anyway, this far north and cooled by Atlantic breezes (aka moderate to strong winds) for us not to try more than a swift dip of the toes!

The next day started cloudy – an ideal opportunity to get those bikes out and explore the nearby cycle paths. With the port of Santa Maria just around the corner on the côte sauvage, we ventured out with no clear plan, other than to see what the port area had to deliver. Luckily, we had chanced upon market day, and whilst the prices were all too reminiscent of the ‘70s when exchange rates were also not in favour of the UK, it was fun to wander around and marvel at the prices of fruit and veg, as well as admire the local cuisine, with its galletes and crêpes vying for savoury or sweet customers. Leaving just enough time to make a visit to the local sardine factory outlet/museum, and wonder at French planning permission laws as we spotted a Disney-esque château on a nearby promontory, we made our way back to the site via the other port on the west coast, Port Haliguen, arriving at the van in time for afternoon tea.

It was whilst we were enjoying our cuppas that we heard an eerie noise overhead, and strange shadows were cast across our pitch… And as we looked up, more than a little warily, we were treated to the site of a series of parachutists coming in to land at the aerodrome across the road!

It was only later when we wandered over to the aerodrome that we discovered that there was a local parachute club that offered tandem rides – so of course we stayed to watch the next batch of pretty terrified folk go through their landing drills, before they were whisked off to the north in the jump plane, only to return in short order from on high, attached to the front of their instructors!

We really enjoyed our stay on Quiberon and, had the winds abated enough to tempt us back to the beaches, we could have stayed a little longer. As it was, the pull of the south was getting stronger and after completing our visit with a drive back along the wild, western coast, we plotted our course for our first stop in the neighbouring region of Loire-Atlantique; the salt flats town of Batz-sur-mer, coincidentally twinned with Salies-de-Bearn, the home of Chris and Sue who we have visited on a couple of our trips to and from Spain, without spotting the twinned town we were about to visit!

S&J