I don't know about you but we're having a tropical spell of sunshine hereabouts. Yesterday, after several days below The Promise's buttock and futtocks - scrubbing, scraping, tapping and finally, antifouling - I decided to take the punt for a sail. My little tender is equipped with mast and spars, rudder and centerboard and sails like a little dear. I had a quick look over and shoved off the marina slip at Fouesnant heading, as I thought, out to the sparkling sea. Not so straightforward as before I rounded Cap Coz, the little forestay went off like a gun, leaving the pocket handkerchief sized mains't to flop to one side and lose all effective drive. A swift inspection revealed that the tiny bronze stem head shackle had sheared and gone for a swim. Now, I always like to keep oars aboard, so quick as a knife shot them out through the rowlocks to haul for the shore. The tide and wind was setting me westwards though, the wrong, or least best direction. Go with it, Treliven, I thought and before long drifted with the tide up a shallow bay that began to look interesting. These drying inlets are a haven of wildlife and a Mecca for shell fish hunters at low tide. That wouldn't be for a while but though I touched once or twice, the flood eased me over mud banks and shoals to a land of grassy marshes and quiet meadows. At the head of the estuary was a tide mill; castle like and ancient in appearance but to all intents and purposes in working order. I'd seen others, Ploumanach, for one, but this looked in good nick; not the usual ruin. A lake was dammed up behind the retaining wall while shady woods stretched away on either side. A path that ran on top, disappearing east and west.
I stamped my grapnel into the turf; determined to go exploring on foot, having left the sea so far behind. All I needed was a yard of decent nylon to make a jury forestay lanyard, but knew there was a little dingy hire place at the Cap. The sun was shining, I had a few Euros in my pocket, and if deck shoes aren't the best for rambling, they'd surely get me to the nearest cafe for a Pastis - once I'd purloined a bit of string. I'd reckoned on an hour before the tide turned. Easy...
