Carnac Plage

We wake up this morning to wind, rain and an angry ocean. Oh dear, the planned morning outside is a two and a half hour hike. We meet the group at the breakfast tables and watch the outside weather. There is much discussion about rain gear. In the end, only three people elect to skip the hike and hope for better conditions in the afternoon. Two of those people are Bill and me. We are fatiguee...

We enjoy a quiet morning in the hotel and take a walk through this charming beach town. Of course it would be more charming in better weather. Sigh.

The little shops are vacant and some are closed for the season. Many cafes and restaurants are shuttered.

The group returns after a wet, but not untenable hike among scattered dolmens and menhirs. Not all of these stones are enclosed within the museum's archeological grounds. Literally they are everywhere for miles around. No wonder people have used them to build their houses. In fact it was not until 1991 that these ancient stones were regarded as worthy of notice and research began.

We are off to lunch. Annie says it's the best fish in town. It looks like a dump. But my goodness, she knows her stuff!

There is a festive dinner scheduled for our last evening together, so most people order cautiously. The salad platters arrive and they are utterly astonishing. They are huge and fresh and beautiful.

I've ordered moules frites. The pot is the size that seems customary in this part of France. It contains five or six dozen small mussels in a fragrant white wine sauce with garlic and fresh parsley. I sincerely doubt that I will ever have sweeter, fresher mussels. It kind of ruins your appetite for the large green New Zealand mussels often served in the US. (inset heavy sigh here). I give up about three inches from the bottom of the pot. Mmmm.Læs mere