We spend one last night in Port-Louis, opposite Lorient, before setting off. Three centuries ago, the trading ships of the French East India Company arrived here to unload the finest silks, precious spices and precious woods from India and the Moluccas. When they did arrive. About a quarter of all the ships that had set sail from Port-Louis a year earlier never returned. Sunk in a storm, run aground on rocks due to inaccurate navigation, captured by pirates.
Some only failed on the very last day, with their home harbour almost in sight. They were lost in Brittany's waters, which were full of currents and shallows. Mostly when they tried to call at Port-Louis despite fog or onshore storms. Who could blame them for longing to finally moor in a familiar harbour after months of hardship at sea.
Also interesting:
With our Hallberg-Rassy 39 "Gwenavel", we want to take a closer look at this impressive coast in the west of Brittany, especially the region at the Pointe du Raz, also known as "Europe's Cape Horn". As a final exam in tidal navigation for every Breton sailing student, so to speak, it lies just 30 nautical miles south-west of Brest. "Cape Horn" because in terms of its imposing rocky backdrop, the frequency of fog and storms and the powerful tidal currents, it is hardly inferior to the southernmost tip of America.
Port Tudy profited from tuna fishing at the time
However, our first day's sailing will only take us to Île de Groix, four miles off the coast. But don't think you can just sail over there! At springtime, there are up to four knots of current under the citadel of Port-Louis at the southern exit of the deeply cut bay of Lorient. So you are well advised not to try to leave at high tide. In general, tide tables and current atlases will be our daily bread in the coming days. Above all, it is important to avoid a wind-against-current situation in the current-rich passages. Then a wild sea will build up on some stretches of coast.
Port Tudy, the picturesque harbour on the small, rocky Île de Groix, is still quite busy in late summer. All the places on the three short pontoons are taken. We manage to find a free mooring buoy in the outer harbour so that we can start our shore leave by pumping up the dinghy. At "Ty Beudeff", the charming, albeit somewhat run-down sailing cult pub, it's not just the seafaring islanders who meet up for an evening beer. You can find it on the way up to the village centre.
We talk to the landlord about the tuna that adorns the top of the church tower. Alain, grandson of the pub's founder, likes to tell us how, more than a hundred years ago, hundreds of wooden "Thoniers" landed their catch here on Groix every day in late summer during the heyday of tuna fishing. Not only did this provide food for the island's population, but the resale even brought a certain amount of prosperity for a time. Nowadays, the island's families are supported by their fathers, sons and daughters, who earn their wages in the navy or merchant shipping.
On the Glénan Islands, the change in water level due to the tide is up to six metres
The next morning we have to get up early. We want to take advantage of the north-westerly ebb current to cover 30 nautical miles in the course of the day to the nearest group of islands, the Îles de Glénan. On the back of the depression that passed through yesterday, however, a stiff north-westerly wind blows on our noses. Of course, the Pointe du Raz is not given to anyone! And so a 30-mile direct course turns into a sporty cross of around 50 miles at 6 Beaufort. This is no problem in open water, as the tidal current here is quite low at only about one knot.
After yesterday's rain, which fell from a pale grey stratus blanket, today we enjoy the increasingly clearing clouds. In the afternoon, we can finally make out the Penfret lighthouse on the horizon, the easternmost of the Glénan Islands. To leeward of the archipelago, the swell is getting smaller by the minute and so we finally hoist the main and headsail after a strenuous day's sailing. Under motor, we venture into the labyrinth of sandbanks and rocks ahead of us.
Anyone looking at the nautical chart of the Glénans will immediately think: "Impossible to sail there with a yacht with a draught of two metres." In fact, the chart shows water depths of just half a metre between the islands. But we are not in the Mediterranean, but in the Atlantic with a huge tidal range here. On the Glénan Islands, the change in water level between high and low tide is up to six metres at spring tide! Even at neap tide, it is still two metres.
But even if there is enough water, it is still not easy: between the seven islets that permanently peek out of the water are hundreds of small and tiny rocks that, depending on the tide, are sometimes visible and sometimes lie in wait for prey just below the surface.
"Raz" is Celtic for "current-rich, dangerous passage off a cape"
Three of the islands are occupied by sailing students from the École de Voile des Glénan during the summer months. Only one island is inhabited almost all year round by a handful of weatherproof Bretons. Many non-sailors are now familiar with the mystical Glénan Islands and their enigmatic protagonists from the novels of "Commissaire Dupin".
We brought four baguettes, three dozen oysters, salted butter, cheese and a few bottles of Muscadet from Groix. There are no grocery shops for provisions on the Glénan Islands. So we spend the evening anchored in the middle of the archipelago with a view of Fort Cigogne, an old pirate fortress.
Before we go to bed, however, we have to do some maths: Tomorrow we first have to sail 20 nautical miles west to the Pointe de Penmarc'h, before heading 35 miles north-west to the "Raz". This is what the locals call the notorious passage between the Pointe du Raz and the storm-tossed Île de Sein, which is only two miles wide. "Raz" is Celtic and means something like "current-rich, dangerous passage off a cape".
Before there were reliable weather reports, radar equipment and current atlases, the "Raz de Sein" regularly took its toll on sailors. Older Breton fishermen still sometimes quote the saying "Qui voit Sein, voit sa fin" - "Whoever sees (the island of) Sein, sees its end". In concrete terms, this meant that a hundred years ago, anyone approaching the coast with a sailing ship in strong onshore winds, poor visibility, an inaccurate position and without an auxiliary engine had little chance of reaching a safe harbour safely.
Shortly before the Pointe du Raz
The 55 miles to the Raz seem a bit much for the next day. With the wind still blowing from the north-west, it won't be possible to predict exactly when we will get there. But this is absolutely necessary to avoid getting into a wind-against-current situation. The passage is only justifiable with a suitable tidal current. So what should we do?
The small fishing harbour of Audierne is only about ten nautical miles east of the Pointe du Raz. However, its approach is also dependent on the tide. Sandbanks in the harbour entrance block the way at low tide. It is only possible to enter the harbour safely at about half tide. The alternative would be to anchor in a bay to the west of the sandbanks. But then it would have to continue to blow offshore. The weather forecast gives us hope in this respect.
In fact, Aeolus and Poseidon are in a good mood the next morning and we can leave the Pointe de Penmarc'h with its two mighty lighthouses on our starboard side with a long sweep roughly to the west-south-west. It gets even better: around midday the wind shifts to the west so that we don't have to cross on the further course towards Audierne. Best Atlantic sailing. We approach the Pointe du Raz at more than six knots under a blue and white cumulus sky.
The temptation is great to stick the bow into the notorious passage this evening. But a glance at the current atlas and tide table is enough to bring us back down to earth. It can't be done today. So anchoring at Sainte-Evette? That would be a crazy roll at night with the wind now blowing from the west. Then off to Audierne? It's still 20 nautical miles away. But with our six knots of speed, it might be possible to get there in time. We'll give it a go!
Who dares wins - we pass the pier heads of Audierne at around 7.30 pm with a good metre of water under the keel. Against the ebb current, we motor towards the harbour at just under three knots over ground. Fortunately, the swell has subsided, so we don't have to worry about running aground in a wave trough. We moor alongside a fishing boat and then enjoy sole and a few glasses of Sancerre in the harbour restaurant. On the eve of the long-awaited and somewhat dreaded journey through the Raz de Sein, you could imagine worse things for a last meal.
Weather, current, tides and distances have to be harmonised and coordinated - a navigational challenge
After dinner, we do the maths for the highlight of the trip: tomorrow it's about ten miles to the Raz. So after about two hours we would be directly in front of the southern approach. Low tide is around 11.30 am. This means that we have to be over the sandbanks at the harbour exit of Audierne by 8.30 a.m. at the latest at half low tide. The low tide will then set from north to south in the Raz de Sein for another three hours before there is still water for about half an hour. After that, the tide will initially push northwards at three to four knots, later at a powerful five to six knots.
This means that after passing the Audierne sandbanks, we would arrive at the approach to the Raz about an hour early. In other words, we would have an hour's reserve. What more could a sailor want!
The key question, however, remains: What will the situation be like in the Raz? If we want to use the tidal current, the forecast is 5 Beaufort in the north-west, which means a wind-against-current situation with a current of around five knots, resulting in breakers up to two metres high. But the alternative is to sail northwards against the ebb tide about an hour before the still water with only about two knots over ground. At least the sea will then be relatively calm, as the wind will be travelling in approximately the same direction as the current.
Our decision: better to sail in the desired direction at only two knots and in relatively calm seas than risk a wild ride through a witch's cauldron at eleven knots over ground. But will we have enough time to complete the two-mile-long passage of the Raz against the low tide? It could be tight again.
With a slightly increased adrenalin level in the southern approach to the Pointe du Raz
Fortunately, there is a third alternative: instead of sailing through the entire passage of the Raz in one go, you could change course to the west halfway through. There is an approach to the Île de Sein, which is only about two miles west of the centre of the Raz de Sein. There, closer to the island, the tidal current is much weaker.
In any case, the conditions are marvellous: good visibility, a moderately strong, predictable wind, a highly motivated crew and a boat, sails and engine in good condition. Thanks to two GPS devices on board, it should also be possible to precisely determine the course and speed over ground at all times. Last but not least, this is not the first time the skipper has done this. So let's set sail for Pointe du Raz!
With our adrenaline levels somewhat elevated, we arrive at the southern approach at around 1.30 pm the next day. Dolphins accompany us, easing the tension on board a little. The tide is still running southwards at around three knots, as predicted. High on the wind, we sail northwards at the same number of knots over the ground and six knots through the water. The sea is surprisingly calm in these notorious waters.
The ebb current is now weakening almost by the minute, and we manage, as planned, to take a bearing on the red approach beacon of Île de Sein Cornoc-Ar-Vaz-Nevez directly to the west at still water. The two lighthouses off the Pointe du Raz, La Vieille and La Plate, stand defiantly in front of the imposing rocky headland to starboard abeam. Time to furl the headsail. We can't sail the direct westerly course to Sein this high, and there are too many rocks in the way. So we switch on the engine. Motor-sailing with the main standing, we are finally out of the current trap a mile further west. Now a little slalom between three or four stones, then we can moor at a buoy in the outer harbour of Île de Sein. We've done it!
Wrecks served as a source of firewood
As darkness falls, the sky is bathed in colour all around. Beacons in all directions: We are directly in the green sector of the Men Brial pier light, further north Tevennec beams at us with its red flashing light. La Vieille, the listed lighthouse off the Pointe du Raz, shows us its white leading sector, and the large Sein lighthouse periodically sends its four white flashes out into the Atlantic.
The Île de Sein is worth sacrificing a day's sailing for an extensive shore leave. It doesn't take us three hours to walk round the island on foot over the surf-cut rocks. But lunch at "Chez Brigitte" takes a little longer. Ragout de Homard is on the menu and on the table in front of us half an hour later: lobster caught between the Île de Sein and the Pointe du Raz. When we tell our sailing friends in Germany, they'll say we only dreamt it all.
This is also the story of the island priest, who reports that his deceased predecessors had probably begged the Lord God in many a winter Sunday mass a century ago to finally send a ship to the rocks again. This was the only way for the poor islanders to get food and firewood during the cold, stormy season, when fishing was too dangerous and the crossing to the mainland was impossible.
Huge ship graveyard
Over the last two millennia, Greeks, Romans, Vikings, Hanseatic cogs, cargo ships of the various East India companies and finally banana freighters from the Bay of Biscay sailed along the coast. On the way to Brest or the English Channel, an approach to the shoal-ridden coast off Sein and Ouessant was never completely out of the question. They did not sail through the Raz de Sein, but as far west as possible of the Chaussée de Sein - the name given to the 1,000 stones that jut out into the Atlantic like a needle point up to 20 miles west of the Île de Sein. Nevertheless, there was always a certain risk of being wrecked man and mouse on one of the shoals.
In addition to the navigational problems caused by the tides, the waters off the western tip of France have a whopping 30 per cent chance of fog, especially in summer. Old nautical charts showing the wrecks that lie outside the shipping lanes bear witness to a macabre reality: there is a huge ship graveyard here in western Europe. Probably only the Isles of Scilly to the west of Land's End off Cornwall can compete with it.
But back to the present: hadn't someone said something about a wild ride in the Raz de Sein? So far we haven't seen anything of it. If the weather is good, we plan to continue our journey towards Camaret tomorrow instead. The forecast promises a steady westerly wind of 4 Beaufort. That's all we need. This time, however, it will be a bit more sporty, as we want to take advantage of the north-setting tide while the wind is across the current. It's not an overly explosive constellation, but we can expect a little more swell than when we approached Sein two days earlier.
The GPS shows an impressive 11.6 knots over ground, which is at least five knots of current
On the way back east into the Raz, only the rigging of some yachts that are also sailing north can be seen at times. The hulls disappear into the wave troughs, the swell has increased. In no time at all, we too are fully in the current. As if by magic, the La Vieille and La Plate lighthouses off the Pointe du Raz flit past on our starboard side. The GPS shows an impressive 11.6 knots over ground, that's at least five knots of current!
In the middle of the rocks off the cape, a local fisherman motors against the current while his boat rolls a good 40 degrees to either side. Two miles further north, the current eases considerably, but we are still travelling at over eight knots over ground as we approach the last harbour before Brest: Camaret.
The town was a lobster fishing harbour until the 1930s. Its rich maritime history can be seen impressively in the wrecks of the wooden hulls that are slowly rotting away in front of the long pier. Interestingly, Breton lobsters have been seen again in the crates of local fishermen for a few years now. This is astonishing, as it was assumed for almost a century that the animals had been wiped out in Brittany as a result of overfishing.
We are moored for one night in Port Vauban, a small marina that is popular with yachts travelling through from the Bay of Biscay or sailing out of the English Channel towards A Coruña. Now, in late summer, crews of yachts from Germany, Denmark, England, Sweden, Norway and the Netherlands mingle here. All with the goal of "off to the warmth". Some want to go to the Mediterranean, others to the Canary Islands, some to the Caribbean.
We only have eight miles to go to Brest. Then it's done, the final test for our crew has been passed and we are rightly delighted with what we have achieved together. And who knows, maybe one or two of us will later tell their grandchildren about the great adventure at the "Cape Horn of Europe".
Precinct information
The precinct
Brittany is a tidal, challenging sailing area that will delight ambitious sailors. The tidal range in Brest varies between two and nine metres depending on the phase of the moon. The coastline is varied, with numerous anchor bays between rocky capes as well as many marinas and simple fishing harbours. There are also good anchorages around the many offshore islands. The food is excellent and you can buy fresh seafood in every harbour.
Journey
By plane or train to Paris. Then take the TGV from Paris/Gare Montparnasse to Lorient or Brest in three hours. Flying from Paris to Lorient or Brest is possible, but not worthwhile due to the long waiting times at the airports.
Wind & Weather
The best sailing season is from April to October. In summer, the average wind speed is 3 to 4 Beaufort. However, Atlantic low-pressure systems with strong winds of up to 8 Beaufort can pass through at any time. The average wind speed in the winter months is 4 to 5 Beaufort, but then storm lows pass through more frequently. The air temperature in summer fluctuates between 15 and 28 degrees Celsius, while the water temperature varies between 16 and 18 degrees in the summer months.
Charter
- Lorient: atlantic-yachting.fr
- Brest: eridan-naviroise.com,
- skippered Charter (with the author and others): sail-bretagne-atlantic.eu
Literature & Charts
- Harbour handbook: "Atlantic France" by Nick Chavasse, Edition Imray, 2023
- Navigation: "Sailing in tidal waters", Wilfried Krusekopf, Delius Klasing 2020
- Territory guide: "Reed's Nautical Almanac" and its French counterpart "Bloc Marine", updated annually
- Shore leave: "Brittany Travel Guide" by Wilfried Krusekopf, Reise-Know-How, 2024
- Nautical charts: NV-Verlag FR 4+5
- Electricity atlas: F 560-UJA "Atlas des courants"
