Camping Orangerie, Quimper, Brittany, 18th August 1985
Left the camp site heading 55km west to Cap du Van, a land of gorse, stone walls, heather covered heaths and rugged cliffs plunging into the Atlantic, Finistere, finis terrae, end of the earth. At first, the cape appeared a bleak and rugged place laced with paths cut into the cliffs by tramping visitors’ feet. Then a surprise. We turned off a lightly used road and discovered a small local fair with crepe and ice cream stalls, and vans selling souvenirs and postcard vans. The center piece was a carousel with ponies yoked and walking patiently round in a circle giving children rides. It called to mind horse powered threshing rounds and water pumps in far off times and places. The proprietor kept goats and dogs and his wife sold sweets. Nearby, visitors climbed pilgrim-like up to the 17th century Saint They chapel. Two stony lichen-flecked figures perched on buttresses under the bell tower looked hopefully out to sea. We ate hot, sticky honey and lemon crepes in a warm wind under a mackerel sky. It was a strange gathering in a place miles from anywhere, at the end of the earth.