Drive to the End of the World

One day that first weekend, MJ and I went jogging by the harbor. I’ve hated to jog my whole life. I’ve usually only made myself do it by convincing myself that I was really going for a walk—I like walks—and then jogging in very brief thirty-second spurts after about five or ten minutes of walking. I hurt my knee a few years ago and that’s been an excuse, too—it hurts when I jog. So I told MJ not to wait for me—I had a feeling I’d be really slow.

Turns out my body surprised me. I started running and just didn’t want to stop. I wasn’t tired. My knee didn’t hurt. And the sea just spread out in front of me and I felt my heart open up. I just wanted to run. We ran all the way around the harbor and back, barely resting, and then jogged into Old Town.

So yeah, jogging is AWESOME. Did you guys...know about this?

When we left Concarneau, the plan was to drive to two of the big westernmost points in Bretagne—Pointe du Raz and Pointe de Penhir. Both are jagged promontories with towering cliffs and huge waves that jut out into the ocean. We drove through tiny villages full of ancient farmhouses and rolling farmlands full of Bretagne’s distinctive black wheat. Pointe du Raz was first. It was a bit crowded, but really beautiful.





Pointe de Penhir was my favorite, though. Its cliffs towered and we spent ages just watching the waves and the seabirds, perched on the edge of an enormous cliff sheltered from the wind. And there was an alignement nearby, with two intersecting rows of standing stones.




This picture would be totally bad-ass if not for the enormous stain on my shirt.

Finally, we drove down from Pointe de Penhir and found a little creperie by a sprawling beach where we ordered galettes--mine had scallops, a Breton specialty—and cider. This is the view from our picnic table!