Mega success
Brittany has a mysterious collection of megaliths and a mind-boggling array of ice-creams By Vicky Lissaman
Iwas about to do something I’d been given a lifetime of warnings against. Up there with climbing electricity pylons and returning to a just-lit firework, wading out to the Ile de Stuhan, a tiny island which gets cut off by the tide, jarred with every bit of my goody-two-shoes hard-wiring.
The surrounding seawater was already knee-deep on my two children, William, 10, and Charlotte, eight, and while we weighed up our chances of survival, a steady stream of tourists with rolled-up trousers sloshed swiftly back from the island to Men Du beach in Carnac as the waters rose behind them.
But it was one of those moments where we’d “come all this way on holiday” so we were totally doing it.
As the heat of the day faded into evening haze, we set off at a pace. Soon, the water was lapping at my shorts, but to go back would be further than forging ahead, so we paddled on until we reached the island. Hooray!
After posing for photos as if we’d conquered Everest, we walked to its tiny curved beach, then as we followed the circular route back, I psyched myself up for another soggy dash back through the waves.
To my surprise, however, the stretch of water between this little island gem and, well, mainland France, was now a curved sandbank, a bit like the yellow brick road.
We skipped back to the beach, a la Dorothy and her pals, as the sun began to set, feeling rather relieved.
Our base for the week was just down the road at Eurocamp’s Des Menhirs park. Set a few streets back from the main beach and glamorous promenade, and a two-minute
walk from the pavement cafes, restaurants, boutiques and souvenir shops, it’s in a great location for everything Carnac town has to offer.
We’d travelled there on a Covidsafe Brittany Ferries crossing the day after the first lockdown had lifted in July, catching the overnight ferry from Portsmouth to St Malo, then driving for about three hours to the west coast.
At the site, there was a sociallydistanced check-in, with masks and hand sanitiser.
Located in a quiet cul-de-sac, our threebedroom Azure mobile home with decking was so clean and shiny we couldn’t work out if we were the first guests staying in a brand new caravan, or if someone had just spent a very long time scrubbing and polishing every inch of it.
Next door was a friendly Dutch family. Our kids played badminton with their kids while we cracked open the wine. Across the road was a nice couple from Belgium.
The site has a well-maintained pool with slides, and plenty of sunbeds, as well as an indoor pool, playground, bar and restaurant, plus activities with the reps, such as fitness classes and sports, so there is a lot to keep you amused if you want to stick around.
But this is Carnac, famous for its five gorgeous beaches, 3,000 mysterious standing stones and, most importantly for our children, an ice-cream shop selling a mind-blowing 180 varieties.
Unfortunately, when we rocked up at L’igloo they’d run out of their potato, cactus and eucalyptus flavours – victims of their own successes, apparently.
But they did have, along with many, many others, cottage cheese, liquorice and Heineken flavour, so I went for that.
Lager-infused ice-cream is surprisingly refreshing when strolling through a pretty French seaside town when the sun is
Lager ice cream is surprisingly refreshing when the sun is shining
shining and the agapanthus are in full bloom.
The five beaches of Carnac also come with their own unique selling points. There’s a mile-and-a-half of fine sand and seashells on the main beach, Carnac Plage, along with its kids’ club, harbour and yachting club. There’s also Saint-colomban, Légenèse, Ty Bihan and the aforementioned Men Du with its own island escapade.
The 3,000-odd standing stones, or mysterious menhirs, marching in lines across four miles of Carnac countryside are another major attraction. Around 6,000 years old or more, it’s the largest gathering of stones of this type in the world. Some say they were once a place of worship or ritual.
When you stand beside the monumental architecture, you will no doubt come up with your own ideas. An ancient artist’s impression of an early sociallydistanced queue perhaps?
Just along the coast from Carnac is La Trinite-sur-mer, a smart harbour town and marina, famous for its yachting competitions and seafood restaurants dotted around the quay.
There’s a lovely view of the town from the 650ft Kerisper bridge, spanning the river Crac’h.
If you fancy a bit more adventure, head to the Quiberon peninsula. Jutting nine miles out into the sea, and just 72ft at its narrowest point, driving down its central road feels like journeying to the edge of the earth.
Turn right to the wind and the waves of the Cote Sauvage (wild coast), with its huge, sweeping beaches
for surfing, horse-riding and sand-yachting. Or turn left to the beaches of the sheltered east coast. We spent a morning cockle-picking at its Plage des Sables beach. Boiling our fishy finds on the stove at the caravan, they were heavenly with baguettes and salted butter bought from the camp shop.
Talking of food, a jaunt to a French hypermarket is an educational day trip in itself. At Carnac’s Super U there was all manner of fresh seafood laid out in patterns on ice, a full deli and fromage counter, wines by the hundred and plenty of options for those chilled-out evening barbecues back at the Eurocamp resort.
But more importantly, it stocked Cidre des Menhirs, top fizzy apple rocket fuel and our new favourite sipper as we sizzled French steaks surrounded by friendly European neighbours.
Driving down the peninsula felt like journeying to the edge of the earth