Finistere Coast

After a lifetime of long and short walks along the footpaths of Britain, I have just returned from a brief walking holiday in Finistere, full of enthusiasm and eager to set out upon more Grande Randonnees. The coast and countryside of Brittany offer superb walks – enough hills to make it interesting but not too arduous (we usually carry large camping backpacks); enough wild land to feel one is truly beyond the reach of civilisation; fascinating little communities, exquisite architecture and wonderful woodlands; footpaths that are well-maintained, well-signed and largely tarmac free; only occasional encounters with other walkers, and invariably we exchange cheery “Bonjours” as we pass.

Arriving at Roscoff, we set off west along the northern coast to

Brignogan-Plage – a relatively low-lying and very rocky seaboard with many sandy beaches and an immense tidal zone, often allowing, at low tide, the removal of boots to wade across the several abers or estuaries that pierce the coast. Highlights were a high tide walk inland along the luxuriant east bank of a river to St Jacques, then back up the west bank to Mogueriec for a mussel lunch: and the extraordinary low tide sand-scape in the bay to the east of Plouneour-Trez, a vast plain of wet sand and massive rocky outcrops, sprinkled with locals equipped with rakes and buckets to harvest the bountiful supply of cockles. At high tide, this was just a wide bay of the ocean: at low tide, it resembled rather the deserts of Arizona, the sea nowhere to be seen, somewhere over the northern horizon.

Our second stretch of coastpath walking took us from Douarnenez to the Pointe du Raz on the west coast, then back to the port of Audierne. This is a distinctly more wild and rugged coastline, reminiscent of the extreme southwest of Cornwall yet wonderfully free of the tacky trappings of tourism – in fact, so free that we were forced inland, on one occasion, to stock up on provisions. GR 34 follows an ancient coastguard track, amongst heather and gorse, meandering over the low cliffs with a few descents to idyllic and largely deserted sandy coves. The path goes on and on, kilometre after kilometre – a truly magnificent piece of walking with never a road and barely a house to be seen. We camped on grassy headlands overlooking bird covered rocky islands, bathed in crystal clear bays, sheltered from the midday sun in pine groves or in the shade of huge Neolithic menhirs.

After three days of walking we reached the dramatic promontories

of Pointe du Van and Pointe du Raz, separated by a sweeping curve of sand and surf that matches any of Cornwall’s famous surfing beaches, only without the tat and commerce of an English seaside resort. The Pointe du Raz – the French “Land’s End” – is popular, of course, but it is not spoilt by the hordes who clamber over the mountainous piles of rocks to get as close as possible to the turbulent sea and the magnetic and much-photographed lighthouse. The visitors’ centre, shops and cafes are at least a kilometre inland and, it must be said, the French do that kind of thing far better than us English.

The south coast of the Cap de Sizun is less rugged, easier going, and slightly more populated, but still splendid walking with several good surf beaches, culminating in the fine town of Audierne and – highly recommended – a boat trip to the remarkable Ile de Sein, lying low in the waters to the west of the Pointe du Raz.

So, that’s about two percent of the wonders of Brittany covered. More next year, I hope.