Benodet August 2017: Troisième et dernier post.

Our last day and time to head back to the ferry at Roscoff after a very enjoyable family holiday. As we weren't sailing until 4.45 pm we thought we'd take the opportunity to visit St Pol de Leon, a town about 5 miles from the ferry port (not the St Pol de Leon just outside of Penzance in Cornwall. Same name, same saint but different country). We were glad we did as it turned out to be an unexpected pleasure, as was the town of Roscoff itself. More than just a ferry terminal and well worth taking more time to wander over the next time we are in the area. 2018 maybe?

The most striking feature of St Pol de Leon as we approached the town was the spire of the Paul Aurelian Cathedral (oops, sorry, Cathedrale Saint-Paul-Aurelien). Who he? A Welsh monk who founded the original church in the 6th Century upon which the present 13th century building stands. I don't think the scaffolding is mediaeval but the way the French build things, who knows? It could be.

View of the cathedral nave with the choir in the distance. Although you can't see them, the choir stalls were magnificently carved in oak. Note that, unlike Quimper, the builders of this cathedral managed to keep to a straight line.



The lit dome above the main altar still retained its original paintings. Well worth risking a crick in the neck to look at these. See the pains I go to for my readers? I hope you are grateful.



Lots of excellent stained glass to admire but this, the Rose Window, is actually painted glass, and certainly none the less beautiful for that. It dates from 1873. There's a lot to see in this one. At the heart is a depiction of the "Holy Trinity" and around this image are eight angels playing various musical instruments and, in a ring around these eight angels, are a further sixteen paintings of prophets, martyrs and saints either singing or playing instruments. A veritable celestial choir to accompany soaring souls?

Here's something we puzzled over. That they contained bones was obvious but beyond that they were a bit of a mystery and very intriguing. Luckily there was a plaque nearby that filled in the details. Called "Les Etagères de la nuit", these wooden "skull boxes" or "boîtes à crâne" are kept behind a grill in the cathedral's ambulatory. Each box holds a skull and the box is inscribed with the name of the person to whom the skull belonged. The box takes the form of a small chapel surmounted by a cross with a trefoil shaped opening. At one time these "skull boxes" were common in Brittany and it was the practice up until the 19th century to remove skeletons from the cemetery after they had been buried for 5 years in order to create space for new remains. The bones were placed in the ossuary or charnel house but the skulls were passed to the deceased's family and many chose to have the skull placed in these chapel shaped boxes and kept on display. The skulls seen on the shelves come from all classes of society from a baker, a health inspector, an infant aged only 6 and a priest. Seriously morbid or fascinating? Take your pick.

Around the cathedral is a veritable warren of old streets, all named after the occupations of the original inhabitants. This is a view from the Rue de Buerre where, as the name suggests, the butter makers used to live. Towering over this part of town is the spire, not of the cathedral but of the Notre-Dame du Kreisker Chapel. At 80 m high, the tower is the highest in Brittany. 

The Kreisker Chapel, although based on an earlier wooden building, dates from the 14th and 15th centuries. One story is that the English (the Welsh didn't do things like that) burnt the wooden structure down and then rebuilt it in stone. Perhaps they wanted to show the French how to do it properly? Notwithstanding the xenophobia, the interior of the chapel is replete with artefacts of interest, not least of which is the Altar of the Visitation. Originally part of a convent, it was moved to its present position after the French Revolution. Another masterpiece of wood carving, with four highly intricate columns framing the painting in the middle. One thing I like doing is running my hands over such carvings, in part hoping that some of the skill would rub off on me. Of course, it never has and, of course, I would never indulge my fetish on such valuable carvings as these.

Columns and arches everywhere, necessary to support the weight of the high tower above.

Low tide at Plage de Sainte-Anne, which is just on the fringes of St Pol de Leon. When the tide is in, it seems to be quite the place for swimming, windsurfing etc. And when the tide is out, mud paddling might be the only option.

And we say farewell to France as our return voyage begins. It looks as if the ramp dumps cars straight into the sea: perhaps it will actually do this once Brexit is in force?

One out and one in. The next ferry standing off until ours is at sea. The crossing takes around 6 hours to cover the 120 miles or so and we were lucky on both legs as it was relatively smooth.

Just inside the Breakwater back at Plymouth lay this Fleet Auxilliary supply ship looking rather ghostly in the gloaming. How do I know it's an auxiliary vessel? Easy. It has a large 'A' in front of its number.

It's a reasonably high tide and the Breakwater is doing what it designed to do, breaking the waves.

Back where we started with a rear view of Drake's Island, with some of Plymouth's lights twinkling in the background. Somewhere over to the left and away about 15 miles is where we live. Unfortunately, the enhanced security at Passport Control and Customs meant that it was a long while before we could cover the final hop.

No family holiday would be complete without a family photograph - redacted, of course, to protect the innocent. Either that or we were all wearing mudpacks. Not a bad looking bunch, even with the mudpacks.