After two nights camping in Paris – yes you can camp in Paris, with a dog! – it was time to scrub the pigeon poop off our moist tents and pack the car for our next destination: Brittany’s Savage Coast. We were still undecided on where to stay exactly, but the 526km drive would provide ample time for online mobile searching and deciding on a campground. It was May after all, and the forecast was for rain, so I didn’t anticipate the region to be busy with tourists. Of course, the weather today would be warm and sunny for the drive, which could’ve come a day earlier when we’d been walking around the streets of Paris, soaked.
The landscape is relatively repetitive as we drive towards the coast; mostly flat, verdant fields, as I had expected, until we elevate quite a bit before descending again. We’re close now, the houses have changed to what I’ve seen online as classic Breton; white walled with triangular, black-tiled roofing. Kind of like a thatch roof with tiles instead. Perhaps a modern version of a traditional style? I like it. I find a campground online that looks perfect in a commune called Quiberon, sporting quaint villages along a wild peninsula where we’d be at least guaranteed protection on one side or the other if the weather really did turn foul.
Our generous ‘Grand Comfort’ tent site at a whopping 130 m2, much bigger than the apartment we used to rent!
The road straightens through a thin section of the peninsula, water glittering on either side. Our first take is, wow, this place is gorgeous. The sun has disappeared beneath the clouds and the air is cooling. We find the campsite a little after 4pm, check in with the friendly bilingual staff, and are a little embarrassed to discover the size of our pitch. I’d booked the ‘Grand Comfort’ pitch (130 m2, at only 35 euros per night?!) as we had two tents plus the car and also wanted a little bit of space to settle in for few days and let Sage run around, especially after being somewhat confined in Paris. But the campground, immersed in lush foliage and landscaped gardens, is very quiet – being pre-season and having recently officially opened – and our pitch feels extremely luxurious, grassy and partly shaded, and even protected from most of the wind. Better yet, the beach is literally across the road.
We set up camp and then walk across over to the beach, past a cute public book library box and an electric-fenced zone where sheep graze under the pines. Sage learns the hard way that the electric current is on. Sailboats bob along the water. The kids explore the rock pools and Remy and I soak up the last of the day’s light, breathing in the fresh ocean air and feeling incredibly at ease. We wrap our arms around each other and appreciate this time. For all our nomadic wanderings as a family, the last couple of years have seen us mostly settled in our rental house in Ondres in the southwest, where we’d been going through a tough journey trying to have a baby. It feels natural for us to be on the road again, exploring new places as a family, slowing down, connecting. We feel most at home in this kind of setting.
The kids exploring the rock pools.
The seascape reminds me somewhat of Victor Harbor in South Australia, a southern coastal community where I spent a lot of my time as a child and teenager visiting on family holidays and later my own surf adventures. It must be the pines, the overcast sky, the tidal pools, and the tranquility of this bay we’re now frolicking beside. Sage leaps from rock to rock, following the kids, exerting the energy she’d stored up on the day’s drive. Everyone wears a smile.
Remy’s hot pot of mussels.
It’s dinner time now, and we walk across to the campground’s sister restaurant, Sablé, and take a table outside on the deck. We’d failed to buy a camp stove before setting off from home (would you believe they were sold out?!), and could not find one at all in Paris. So our plans for a budget adventure went somewhat through the tent roof and we’d succumbed to investing more than planned on eating out. But it was Bretagne, and the food is renowned, so maybe this isn’t the worst dilemma. The prices here fair much like what we’re used to back home; both being popular tourist destinations in the summer, the menus tend to be a little inflated, but geez the food looks good. Oysters, local and fat, are delicious. I shuck them back – a whole plate to myself (no one else likes them!) – and pair the succulent shellfish with a glass of rosé. Hunter, having missed out on a burger in Paris, orders one without fail tonight and Ryder follows suit. Remy opts for the mussels, another local specialty, and I wish I’d done the same for my fish and chips is somewhat of a letdown (over crunchy and more batter than fish). He bravely rounds the night out with the restaurants star dessert dish, profiteroles, and I’m sure I’ll be rolling him up the road later for the dish is absolute gourmandise. We order a hot pot of Earl Grey tea to share – I’m hoping this will help us digest before bed – and thank each other for a delightful evening. Sage has slept calmy by our feet this whole time and enjoys our short stroll back to camp before we unzip our tents and lay to rest.
To be continued…
Further Resources
Sauvage Quiberon Campground - where we stayed and highly recommend. Aside from generous tent pitches, they have new, well equipped wood cabins if tent camping isn’t your thing, and are also RV - and DOG - friendly.
Sablé - fantastic restaurant opposite the campground and beach. Seafood is the specialty but the menu is extensive enough to suit all palettes.
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