Ile de Brehat, a beautiful island

     The sun is rising around 8:10 and my 7:30 wake up time is creeping into the night.  The elderly owner of Hotel Sant Roch had breakfast waiting, at least what the French call breakfast. After eating everything I could to full the engine, I pedaled off from Langpol (sp), a few kilometers up the road from where I thought I had stopped yesterday.  I can't even find these place on goggle when zoomed in.  Of course, it was raining, a misty fine one, but rain nevertheless.  Eighteen miles northwest I arrived at the ferry for Ile de Brehat.  Alas, the sun appeared.  No cars just people and my bike which cost an extra 16€.  Riding over I stood on the foredeck and spread my arms like a cormorant to dry out.  The sweat created by my rain jacket is almost worse than the rain.  The jacket keeps my body temperature from falling to hypothermic levels.  One French man, riding over with his wife to close his shop for the season, chatted it up with me.  He called the local hotel which was too expensive so he recommended camping.  A big festival had just finished up yesterday, so the tourist had thinned out  to a comfortable level. With the campsite officially closed, the resident keeper said there was hot water and not to worry about pitching a tent. Talk about a view, I perched myself overlooking the bay with large rock outcroppings dotting water over to the mainland. After setting up, showering, I stripped down the bike and cycled to town.  The roads are not any wider than eight feet, the houses are stone and in pristine conditions.  I came along the french couple on the boat.  Their shop, "The Petit Masion", was tucked into a wall lining the road.  His directions and suggestions helped me navigate the island as well find a decent restaurant for a late lunch.  The ride out to the lighthouse was this idyllic paved path winding over small hills lined with houses into lower land where cows grazed.   With my bike, I Travered the island in no time. One interesting site was a small tractor pulling a cart with a draped coffin, with attendees walking behind.  Off came my hat as they passed me by, just feet away.  This place is intimate, no secrets are kept here.   The usual tourists were about but not oppressively so.  The summer here must be shear madness.  Coming into town, I found the market, stocked up and headed back to camp where I took in the view, had diner avec vin rouge, read and called it an early evening.  And of course, the rain came down throughout the night. Tomorrow the ferry leaves at 14:00 and twenty-seven miles west I have a Warmshowers place to stay for the night.