Our first stop is near the farm of the Barbadienne family at La Bouille, Maman’s grave in the little country cemetery that I visited last with Marylise. We are here at her request, and I sit by the stone marked Antoinette Barbadienne Lessart and talk to her about Yann and Stephane and Benjamin, about Marcel and Marylise, about Christine’s family, and mine. Jean and Mary-Claire as always are quietly by.
On our way to Sizun, we pass the Cimitière des Bateaux de Guerre at Landévennec– another cemetery, this one filled with the hulls of discarded war ships. What a stunning site, nestled in the sand and rock and woodlands of the Brittany coast. The connection is inescapable, Maman who lived through the horrors of that war only to die young, a collateral damage perhaps of their destruction.
Sizun has an unusually sumptuous church. I learn the Breton de Tal ar Groz, at the foot of the cross, and Mamm-goz, Grandma and Tad-coz, Grandpa. This church honors Saint Suliau with a reliquary bust, unlike the usual box or church or cross shape. In the adjoining museum bookstore, I score a treasure trove of books, the Saints and Chapels of Brittany, Breton Coifs and Costumes, Beliefs and Superstitions. Mary-Claire buys recipe books – and ends up giving me the one inadvertently bought in Italian to send to Katie. I am smitten with the mermaid gargoyles in this coastal community.
After lunch we visit the Chapel of Our Lady of Rocamadour 1610-1683 and the Tour Vauban at Camaret. The little harbor is a gem.
We stop at the Pointe des Espagnols to look across the bay to Brest with its long history, the 14th and 16th century battles with the English, and then the Bridge of Recouvrance, and the Chateau de Brest, which is now the National Marine Museum. We explore the perimeter of the Arsenal of Brest, a military base with warships at dock and World War II German submarine covers of massive concrete. In 1944 Brest was in ruins.
Just outside St. Mathieu are two ancient crosses, which in fact are prehistoric menhirs with crosses imposed on top, the marriage of Celtic beliefs and the new Christian faith that was grafted to it. “Croix bénies, Croix sacrées, Mettez mon coeur en bonne pensée, Et que mon âme soit sauvée.” (Blessed Crosses, Sacred Crosses, Put in my heart good thoughts, That my soul might be saved.)
At Saint Mathew’s Point is the 17th century Abbey of Saint Maur, originally a 6th century monastery with the ancient stone tower light, the modern lighthouse – and the military lighthouse built in its shadow.
There is an imposing monument on the cliffs behind the abbey to honor sailors lost at sea.
We make a short stop at Brélès with its pretty little church and a well that Mary-Claire wants to take home with her.
At Le Conquet we circle the little church with its unusual 15th century statue of Christ in chains, patron of slaves, and note the statues of saints, decapitated during the Revolution.
At Portsall we stop to contemplate the monumental reminder of man’s stewardship of the earth: the anchor of the Amoco Cadiz, the tanker that dumped 19 tons of crude oil in the bay in 1978. In spite of the catastrophic consequences, another such ecological disaster happened recently, the sinking of the Erica 7 years ago in a storm off the coast of Brittany, leaving this region whose economy depends on fishing and tourism in a black quagmire.
Merci, Jean and Marie-Claire, for such a splendid tour, an unexpected family vacation. Your company is a cure for the woes of solitude. Brittany is a source of endless delight. You are certainly one of the highlights.
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