Full sail ahead for the Bréhat archipelago experience

Welcome aboard the Emae!

The two parallel hulls, broad deck and trampoline mean that we have no problem spotting Etienne’s white boat in the port of Paimpol. For me, it’s the first time aboard the star of regattas: the catamaran. I’m over the moon. It’s not often you get to do this without breaking the bank! “Welcome aboard the Emae!” I smile. Etienne is no old sea-dog; he's a young skipper who’s comfortable in his deckshoes. I place one foot on the trampoline, then on the deck. “She’s steady!” This is a treat for Lena, a student in Quebec who’s with us today. Guy, an experienced sailor from Paimpol, is already aboard. He’ll be taking the helm.

Through the lock to the channel

The tide is rising; we steer into the lock, keeping pace with the holiday sailors, barges of oyster farmers and lobster fishermen. Etienne teaches us the code of good conduct. “Working fishermen have right of way!” Fair play, our skipper gives way to two old chaps who look a bit unsteady. “Game on, Guy?” The boat is made fast in the lock. We drop below dock level. Wow! Etienne advises us to brace ourselves. I can see why. As the wooden lock gate opens, we get a fresh blast of salt sea breeze and there, before our eyes, is the open sea. But did you know that the sea has motorways? We’re in a channel, under motor power. It’s a seaway with buoys for roadmarkings. The only difference is: no tailbacks! I’m eager to get the sails up.

Leisure sailing

Fine day, calm sea, wind from the North". So where are we heading? Etienne explains that, under sail, the sailor changes course depending on the winds and today, they are changeable. We will go where the wind takes us, I love that idea! He shows me his signpost: a telltale, a fabric windvane fluttering on the 'shroud' (a rope that holds the mast up). It’s that simple! “Shall we raise the mainsail?” Magic words which send a shiver up my spine. Etienne invites me to pull the line called the 'halyard', while he raises the sail. How do you do that? Bend the legs a little. But it’s child’s play with Etienne. His boat is most definitely designed for ease of handling. And for this passenger, that’s just how I like it. With this young skipper as my teacher, learning the ropes of leisure sailing is a pleasure. But the sail’s flapping, what now? “Lee ho”. The boom swings, watch my head! Now, as the boat moves ahead? “Hoist the jib” (a small foresail). Then, “the gennaker”. The gennaker is my favourite sail, a blue and billowing foresail, it looks beautiful! And even better, we are picking up speed. Glorious feeling of gliding along! Etienne is a master at his craft. Do I mean his profession or his catamaran? I mean both, Cap’n! “It responds quickly to handling and doesn’t lean too much”. You don’t need sea-legs to get a buzz out of this, I can tell you!

Ploughing through the sea

At low tide, what’s that below our keel? Etienne shows us two posts rising from the waves. This is a surprise: oyster farms! To port, I see floats marking lobster pots. The sea is a series of allotments! Etienne marks the Bréhat archipelago on the chart for me with its myriad islands and ribbons of rocks. To starboard, the sea darkens, what is it? “Shallows”. I realise that it takes a dedicated sailor to navigate around here! Hats off to our skipper. He lets me into a secret. “My parents are Swiss, I'm the only sailor in my family!" I tell myself that the sea belongs to us all, the sailor’s passion knows no frontiers!

When the wind dies down

Shall we be alone in the world? No, Etienne knows the coasts of Goëlo by heart. He knows how to steer us safely to the coast of Bréhat, a much loved island with its granite cliffs, maritime pines, gorse-lined paths and inlets of ochre-coloured sand. Rising from the silver waves, the enchanting coastline unfolds before our eyes. Around us, those magical names, a roll call of islets: Grand Taurel, L’Hospic with its lighthouse, Pointe de Bilfot, Mez de Goëlo… We are close by those rugged islands where seabirds nest when Etienne suggests a coffee break. I revel in the warmth. I hold my breath. A northern gannet dives, terns chatter and cormorants flap their wings. Shall we turn about? The Saint-Riom archipelago lies before me like a Japanese print or a field dotted with pines. I learn that Guillaume uses horses to plough his potato field. My mouth is watering. Would the flesh of this produce taste as good as the picture he paints suggests?

Such a joy to gaze upon this Breton Arcadia. With the lapping of waves in my ears, I drop the anchors. Back on land, I know that this wonderful experience of sailing with Etienne, his smile and his skill, will stay with me like a safe harbour whenever I fancy setting out onto the broad, deep sea!

Text: Christine Barbedet