Carterette, FR

The Britton coast of France crashes with waves and foam below me today. The shore strewn with sharp knifelike rocks slanted upwards as though to ward off the ships at sea. A small chanel leads into the harbor through which a wary captain must time his entrance with care. For here the tides vary some 25' and much of the harbor bottom is visible a good portion of any given day. While walking the quay this morning I stopped to watch fisherman lower new lobster pots down onto their boat. It was a well found craft made of aluminum much as the purse seiners of Alaska are. The man on deck recieved the pot, quickly baited it with two hearing through the cone like entrance in the top and layed it in neat order along the stern, careful to keep the longline straing and untangled. While he did this the man above would fetch the next pot and tie it to the longline coiled at the top of the quay. They worked at a steady pace with practiced movements and soon the many pots were loaded aboard. The herring gulls cried for a handout, wheeling above the boat on the morning breeze.
Down the road I could see the beach and having promised some seashells for the kids I made my way along the walk toward the point. There is an old wall here made of flat stones and morter. Most of the structure was has crumbled and fallen into the sea long ago. I climb on top for a better vantage point and let my legs dangle the way the kids do while surveying this inspiring vista high above the beach. To my left is the channel leading to the harbor. With its jetty and lighthouse standing well out to sea. There are large waves bursting on the rocks at the terminus. To my right is a high promontory made of aged rock with fisures deep and dark. A house sits to one side of the tall radio tower on the hill. Ahead is the sea. The color a soft jade green flecked with white capped waves. Beyond the sea is the island of Jersey. Standing proud it casts a dark shadow along the horizon. A ferry boat bounces in the distance carrying passengers and goods on it way to the island.
Climbing down off my pearch I am greeted or purhaps scolded by a group of ravens who fly close overhead. You never know where you stand with ravens. They wheel their way to the North and dissapear over the clifftop. A path along the road provides easy access to the beach. As the tide is low I take advantage of my timing for a walk along the water. The beach here is broad. Purhaps a quarter mile or so from land to sea. As I come down the stone ramp, possibly made to haul fishing boats out of the water long ago, I find the sand coarse and colorfull. It's loose qualities let my feet sink an inch or so and is cool to the touch. I make my way toward the ocean and discover numerous rafts of large kelp washed in with the previous tide. These are dark brown with wide leaves and thick stems. Sand fleas scurry away when I lift the kelp to take a closer look. The ocean is very cool even now in September. I would be uncomfortable swimming here. To my right the rocks come down to the water and I walk that direction scanning back and forth in the way a beachcomer does, looking for interesting shells and bits of flotsome. At first I can only discern the broken shells and bits of seaweed. But as my eye became more practiced I found several treasures. The first was a large snail shell rolling in the edge of the surf. After a wave retreated I stepped forth boldly scouping up my prize. A worthy addition to Julianna's collection . Next as I moved through the rocky areas I noticed a strange white and reddish stone about the size of my palm. In turning it over I gave a small start of excitement as I realized it was no ordinary stone. Rather it was a chunk of clear quartz crystals that had at one time lined the inside of a geode. The small facets bounced the morning sun like so many diamonds. I washed it in the surf and after carefully placing it in my coat pocket continued mt walk. I also came upon some large seaglass. These pieces being dark green in color appeared to be the bottoms of wine bottles long ago thrown into the sea. Their edges were smooth and worn by the patience if the sea and sand. I added these to my ever bulging coat pockets. There were many tide pools among the rocks. Inhabited mostly by small limpets and rockweek clinging to the sides. I searched for crab and minnows but found none. Purhaps the action of the waves makes these areas too rough for the creatures.
At last I reached the point where the cliff came down to the sea. Here I could go no further without climbing the slippery rocks. Not having a death wish today I turned about only to find that while being absorbed in my beachcoming, the tide had begun to come in and I was trapped in a small cove still several minutes walk from the beach. To my good fortune the rocks here were low and for the most part flat. I jumped from one to another like a game of hpscotch only slipping once and landing neatly on my feet. My footprints along the beach had been errased and I noticed that the tide here rises much faster than at home on Wrightsville, NC. My return path led me closer to the shore as the small tidal flat I had previously crossed now held several inches of water.
Here i noticed the bath houses used by summer beachgoers. They line the upper beach area like so many blue and white soldiers. Small in size, only six feet by eight I would guess they all have bright royal blue doors and window trim. Contrasting their brilliant white paint and black rooves. I stopped to take a few photos before moving along the beach advancing ahead of my friend the tide.
On the way back to the "La Cap", our charming hotel, I said good morning to a couple of local gents. One on a bike, the other walking. Obviously good friends thay interupted their lively conversation only just long enough to acknowledge my Bonjour. I was begining to feel as though I could be a little French today. The thought of a little wine, cheese and part of a baggette came to mind and I quickened my pace homeward.
Avoir Mon Ami's