Sunday, November 09, 2014

Kernéléhen peninsular


More from our September holiday.

After we had stopped at the beach facing the island of Sterec and looked at the woodhenge, we walked on. Tom had found a rock he took a liking too, a satisfying chunk of white quartz, 


and insisted on carrying it home.  It's sitting, with a friend, on the bottom step of the stairs now.


We rounded the end of the peninsular and came inland slightly, where we met some sheep, who might, it seemed, safely graze.  


Though most of them seemed to be lying around, a little like ruminant woolly seals, chewing the cud:


After losing the footpath and being directed by a German lady outside her holiday home, who asked, in German, if I spoke German, which I think is a first for me anywhere, even in Germany. I cautiously said 'ein Bisschen' and did manage to understand her instructions, and we found ourselves in a sunken lane, where the trees seemed to be having a conversation too:


Land and water here intermingle, the lane gave onto a stretch of beach,


where pine needles and pebbles mix freely and promiscuously


grass and seaweed,


driftwood and dropped leaves.


and cars and boats (this one reminded me of Soize, who loves a 2CV)


There were more decaying hulks of boats,




The tall house across the water in the picture above, with its blue door and windows and white dormer eyebrows, and its back to the woods, has always been an intriguing landmark to us.

This isn't a tidy, pretty place exactly, neither is it one of wild and picturesque beauty, you don't come here to swim or sunbathe, there's a rough little restaurant nearby that does very good seafood, but that's not open much when we're there. It's rather feral and derelict, a backwater of gravel and mud and foreshore, yet it is a living, busy, honest one, where birds and people pick and potter and hunt for shellfish and crustaceans, though we rarely seem to see many people:




There's rust a-plenty






ragged claws and empty shells:







 


 We leave the shore and pick up the road back to our billet,


past quiet houses with stone walls and flowery gardens.





 


Funny old place, it's found its way into our hearts.


6 comments:

Zhoen said...

An inbetween place, a little past it, but still elegant in a wabi-sabi esthetic.

Catalyst/Taylor said...

Your photographs are simply stunning!

The Crow said...

The ruffled white oyster shell reminds me of the frilly skirt of a flamenco dancer's dress.

Love your photos, Lucy.

Stella said...

I don't think I've ever seen a flock of sheep lying down, and had to look up. The search revealed that "lying down in green pastures" indicates a relaxed, confident and trusting state of mind for the animals. Beautiful!

Soize said...

hé ! c'est gentil de penser à moi :-)

polish chick said...

looks peaceful and sleepy. and i'm in awe that there are still green and growing things in the world!

that photo with hydrangeas along the stone wall must be my favourite.