found and baited one with limpets and the other with little snails I found on some of the rocks (I think they are periwinkles). Nothing! I wasted about three hours with these particular offerings and the only interest I received was from rather small unappetising crabs.
Next on the menu was a jellyfish I found washed up and a bunch of tiny shrimp-like creatures I found in a rock pool which made the hook look a little like a wriggly fishy shish kebab. Success! Well, from the kebab, the jellyfish didn’t even attract the crabs. Over a two hour period I caught two reasonably sized sea bass and that was it for the day. Only trouble was that I don’t have any means of starting a fire to cook them. I suppose I could have eaten them raw, but I’m not that desperate just yet.
I settled down for the night in the cabin. Tomorrow I would explore the area.
Saturday, April 8th
I woke up just after six very refreshed, but very hungry. I walked to the top of the beach and began tracking the cliff line for an easy route up. It was not particularly high, but I am certainly no climber. I found a section with a gentler slope upwards and some good foot and hand holds and began my ascent. I got to half way and the adrenaline began to flow. I stupidly looked down and made matters worse, I was frozen stiff and unsure what to do. I must have remained fastened to the rock face for at least 10 minutes panicking. Then, common sense swept through me along with the new found fighting spirit I seem to have developed and up I went.
I reached the top and pulled myself up and into a dense forest. I walked directly away from the beach, leaving the occasional stick stuck in the ground to help find my way back. After 30 minutes of walking I reached a break in the forest and walked out and into a small but empty car park. The car park joined a small road, across from which stood two small shops, I walked closer to investigate.
One was a fishmonger and the other a bakery. I crossed the road to take a closer look. I was looking through the fishmonger’s window at the different fishes for sale and noticed the sea bass. 12 euros per kilogram for whole fish! And 21 euros per kilogram of fillets! That was enough of an invitation for me, I went inside.
There was nobody around, the shop was small and clean, whoever owned it really did take pride in their work. I coughed to gain the owner’s attention and it had the desired effect. A man in his mid-fifties walked out from the backroom still drinking a cup of coffee. He was quite fat and very untidy with a good few days’ growth of grey stubble on his chin. As I speak no French whatsoever and the man clearly spoke no English, our ‘conversation’ was comical.
As I left the shop we shook hands and smiled at each other. I think we had just agreed that I would bring him sea bass and he would give me money…
I did manage to communicate to him that I needed a lighter and some water, he obliged and I returned to the beach with my bounty.
I spent the rest of the day fishing with my little shrimp kebabs and in the evening I lit a small fire and cooked the two bass I caught yesterday. I stored the further eight I caught today in my rucksack to hopefully sell in the morning.
Sunday, April 9th
I woke up early and headed back to the fishmonger with my eight bass. The shop was closed when I arrived (I had forgotten it was a Sunday), I looked around the back and found a door, knocked gently and waited patiently in the cold morning air.
The untidy man opened the door and greeted me with a strong hand shake and a warm smile. I took out the fish and handed them to him. The expression on his face confirmed that he was happy and he disappeared inside with them. I waited excitedly for just a few moments and he returned with a crisp 20 euro note for me. We shook hands again and I went on my way.
I returned to the boat and got back to work. Five bass today, four to sell in the morning, one for me.
After fishing I set about camouflaging the boat the best I could with all of the bits of wood and leaves I could find. It was a very quiet beach and I had not seen a soul since arriving, but I figured that blending the boat into the landscape would be wise, just in case. It wasn’t a perfect job by any stretch of the imagination, you could still tell there was a boat on the beach, but it no longer looked out of place.
I decided that tomorrow I would wake up early and do a little more fishing before heading up to the shop. I would also take my map with me to see if I could figure out where I was and just how I can get to Paris.
Monday, April 10th
I awoke at 5:30, set up the two rods and settled down to eat my breakfast of last night’s bass. I promised myself there and then that I would stock up in the bakery if it was open as I am already getting very sick of eating barbequed fish!
I caught one more bass and two colourful fish which I had never seen before. I took them anyway, maybe they would be worth a couple of quid too.
I packed up the fish and the map, had a quick but breathtakingly cold wash in the sea and set off to the shop. I reached the shop a little after 10:00am and was delighted to see that the bakery was indeed open. I walked into the fishmonger and was welcomed by my new friend. I pulled the fish out of the bag, he looked at the bass, smiled and laid them to one side. He took the two colourful fish behind the counter and dropped them straight into the bin and said, “Merde!” I knew what that meant.
“Café?” he asked. “Oui,” I replied. He disappeared out the back and returned with a cup of coffee, croissant and 15 euros for the fish. I thanked him and sat in the seat he pulled out for me. I pulled out my map and with a series of points and shrugs managed to ask him where we were. He looked at the map for a few moments, shoved the last bite of croissant into his mouth and pointed. It appeared I had travelled a little further from St Malo than I thought and was just along the coast from a little town called Saint-Lunaire. There seemed to be plenty of roads in the area, which made me think it would be pretty straight forward getting to Paris. By using my fingers as legs on the map and repeating the word ‘Paris’ while pointing at myself I think I managed to ask him how to get there.
He pointed at Saint-Lunaire and in very basic French (so I could understand) managed to explain to me that I needed to catch three buses. One from Saint-Lunaire into St Malo, another from St Malo to Rennes, and a final one to Paris. He seemed to think that it would take about five or six hours to do the trip.
I sat and relaxed with him in the shop for a few hours. We drank coffee, ate cheese and bread and just sat in silence enjoying each other’s company which was only interrupted when a customer came in, which wasn’t often, business did seem slow. I guessed he lived alone, but couldn’t be sure.
I left the fishmonger and then visited the bakery to pick up some bread and a few pastries and returned to my little boat with a full stomach and a plan.
Tuesday, April 11th
The 17th is fast approaching. I wonder if Sasha will make it. I worry that it was not Sasha and I have set myself a trap. The 17th is Sasha’s birthday (which is why I picked it). I hope she doesn’t mind my not getting her a present, I hope that I am enough.
Wednesday, April 12th
Thursday, April 13th
Wednesday, April 14th
Thursday, April 15th
Friday, April 16th
Dear diary, apologies for my break in communication I am sat on my bed in a hotel room in Saint-Lunaire writing this. I have spent the last few days just catching fish and sitting in the fishmonger’s not speaking with my new best friend.
I left my boat this morning with a heavy feeling in my heart. I had really grown to love it. It had served me so well, it had gotten me across the English Channel and been my home for the last week or so. I hope someone else finds it and loves it as much as I did. I popped in on my friend and gave him a final goodbye handshake and set off on my 20-mile cross country trek to Saint-Lunaire.
I arrived in Saint-Lunaire at around 2pm, located the bus station and bought my tickets for Paris, I have to catch three buses tomorrow. The first leaves Saint-Lunaire at 9:15 and arrives in St Malo at 9:50. From St Malo I catch the 10:30 bus to Rennes, which
arrives at 11:40. My final bus leaves Rennes at 12:30 and gets into Paris, Gare du Nord at 4:30pm. This gives me plenty of time and allows for any potential problems.
With my tickets purchased, I scouted the town for the cheapest hotel I could find, and here I am.
Must dash as I am about to have the longest shower in the history of personal hygiene to get rid of the stink of fish which seems to have lodged itself in every single pore of my body.
Jail or Sasha? Either way I will be ready, clean and smelling nice.
Saturday, April 17th
I leapt out of bus number three with a completely numb arse and dead legs and walked as fast as I could towards the train station without running so as not to arouse any suspicion. I reached the station entrance and looked in, it was busy. Really busy!
Buses truly are the most unreliable bloody things! The first two buses were like clockwork, but the third was cancelled. I sat in the bus station listening to a tannoy system giving useless information about god knows what for four hours. I really am going to have to learn some French, I wish to god I had paid more attention in Mdm Jones’s classes instead of just lusting after her giant baps! Four hours late, surely that even rivals the British rail system!
The time was 8:47pm, I had made it and I was actually a little early too.