Brittany Finistère from Roscoff to Pont-Aven
New Tro Breiz until the end of the old world overlooking the unleashing of waves of funds,
Ambushed in the fold of a hollow road of the Monts d'Arrée between Cornouaille and Léon,
Stoned without mercy by a strong kornog wind, the westerly wind, on the foreshore of a strike,
As Yann Queffélec says, "let's take the edge in the bed of the avel" of the north wind without truce.
Separated from the corsair city of Roscoff by a narrow channel bristling with fearsome reefs,
"Enez Vaz", the Island of Batz erect its grassy dunes in the middle of the moor of devils,
Close to farmland where potatoes and cauliflowers are grown in the villages,
After the seafarers became market gardeners, they enriched the land with seaweed.
Dominated by the laces of the Renaissance bell tower of Notre Dame de Kroaz-Baz perching,
Roscoff displays an old opulence by the wealthy mansions of the shipowners of the coast,
But it was his rosy onion blossoming in the leon of the leonard country that made his glory,
Thanks to the Johnnies, young boys, carrying the onion braids in boots across the Channel.
Posed on the coast, St Pol de Léon has the greatest religious character of Armorique,
Notre Dame du Kreisker chapel and the highest granite bell tower in Armor,
His major curiosity of the 32 boxes with skulls painted black white or white, with the name of the dead,
His house "Prebendale" where the canon encumbered the prebends, his ecclesiastical revenues.
The Monts d'Arrée, "mountains that are no longer but remember to have been,"
A forgotten strategic axis with, as far as the eye can see, moors, peat bogs and sharp rocks,
An immensity of yellow, ocher and red and sometimes the green glow of a tender graze, pardieu,
Where circulates the legend of "karriguel an Ankou", the cart of death haunting places.
In the Ar Coat we are plunged under the sign of mystery in the warlike Gaul forest,
The magnificent hardwoods of the forest of Huelgoat hide an impressive rocky chaos,
These gigantic masses of granite placed on green carpet of fluorescent thick foam,
Answer the household name of the Virgin, Devil's Cave or Trembling and Oscillating Rock.
Small port at the end of the world, Kon Léon or Le Conquet remains the little jewel of Finistère
Built on a hillside, the village overlooks an aber that sinks into the land,
The "roachers of the seas" of this small port at the end of the world traded towards the Atlantic,
From now on the Conquetois sailors have made it an important crabeater and rustic fish port.
At Pointe St Mathieu the land and the ocean play with light to unite their passion,
Near the ruins of the abbey, the soul of the missing sailors hovers over the ocean, without consequences,
The "gallows of the monks", two old Gallic stelae of stone, seem twin in compassion,
Their cupules to the controversial legend is under the supervision of the lighthouse keeper of the site.
Crossing the Elorn the Iroise cable-stayed bridge opens the door of Brest, coquettish and modest,
Home port of the great navigators, the Bridge of the Recouvrance links the arsenal to the fortress,
The medieval tower Tanguy houses the Museum of Fine Arts and its peppered roof,
The valley of Stang-Altar allows you to dream to distant horizons with its botanical garden.
Let's take the ocean air at the end of the peninsula of Crozon where on his cross stands Camaret,
At the end of the furrow, the Vauban Tower, dressed in red, watches through its loopholes,
On board their small cutters it is with the lobster that the fishermen lived the great epic,
But it is by the alignments of Lagatjar that the legend of the menhirs petrified by a witch persists.
On the northern branch of the cross, the Pointe des Espagnols unveils Brest the radial white,
At the end of the central point, facing the roaring waves of foam, the rock of the lion,
On the Pointe de Pen Hir stands the huge cross of Lorraine in memory of the Bretons fighters,
They left the Isle of Sein to join the Free French Forces during the Second World War.
Head for "Penn ar Bed", at the end of the old world where you expect the excesses of the Pointe du Raz,
Ripped by the wind and chiseled by the waves, the ridge of the mountain has turned into a promontory,
Leaving in the distance the Island of Sein and its myriad reefs from the end of the world in pageantry,
Marked by the fire towers of Tévennec and La Vieille setting the guard peremptorily.
While the Atlantic waves explode on the rocky banks of the Pointe du Raz and Penmarch,
The rollers break on the beaches of the Bay of Audierne before spreading in festoons of foam,
In this circular arc crisscrossed by the customs footpath overhanging the sea in costume,
The endless beach strewn with dunes reveals "the Ero Vili" with millennial pebbles risers.
Like a flowered balcony suspended by enchantment at an elbow of the Odet the domain of Boutiguery,
As a real impressionist canvas flares up every year, in springtime,
In a real chromatic firework, the ball comes alive with rhododendrons and azaleas
The bright green leaves make the roses, whites, mauves, yellow and orange, dance.
It is also in Gouesnach that Eric Tabarly discovered the legendary monohull sailboat Pen-Duick,
Winner twice of the deckchair alone he became the "Sphynx Bénodet", logically,
When transporting the century-old boat to the Irish Sea, the "Sage of the Ocean" disappeared tragically,
Leaving these friends to recollect before the sea, this great cemetery under the skies of Armoric.
A two-thousand-year-old town of Gallo-Roman, Episcopal, and Quimper origin with a medieval look,
Throne in the heart of Cornwall, with its ramparts surrounding St Corentin Cathedral,
His faience of Breton art tracing all the repertoire of Armorican folklore,
His festival where parade bagadous ringing, binious, bombardes and bagpipes ancestral.
Sheltered in the bay of Fouesnant, Concarneau developed around its island of Conq,
Alongside the military role of the "closed city", life revolves around sardine fishing,
The unexpected disappearance of the blue-backed fish made the marine families sink into misery.
The centenary festival of Les Filets Bleus recalls every year the solidarity actions of the time.
Cut in two by the river Aven, renowned for its patches "Traou Mad" blessed,
Immortalized by Gauguin loving Brittany where he found the primitive nature,
He said of Pont Aven, "When my hooves resound on this granite floor,
I hear the dull, dull and powerful sound I'm looking for in painting. "
One day steeped in dreams, I embarked,
In the wind of the sea I traced furrows,
Breathing in the open sea, wind and iodine I sniffed,
Riding the waves, I jostled the horizon.
ARIÉ ... .JOIE