As the sun rose over Port Joinville’s marina, we prepared to join the mass exodus of boats leaving Ile d’Yeu on the morning’s tide. We planned to sail all the way to Belle-Ile – an eight hour sail according to Navionics. But with the tide with us all the way, and a brisk north-easterly, we had a smooth fetch at 7-8 knots all the way – reaching the ‘Beautiful Island’ after just seven hours, and raising our Breton courtesy flag en route! In the past three days, we’d sailed from the Charente region, through the Vendée, and were now back in Southern Brittany.

The picturesque cove of Port Kérel, on the island’s southern shore, has become a favourite anchorage of ours this summer: the combination of a sheltered bay, clear turquoise waters and a long sandy beach (plus coastal path for the daily dog walk) is hard to resist. True, there are no facilities on shore for some considerable distance (the town of Bangor is a good 40 minute walk uphill), but so long as one is prepared to be self-sufficient, it’s a dreamy place to overnight.

We barbecued spicy whole squid that we’d bought in Saint-Gilles market (inspired by the memorable grilled calamari we’d enjoyed at La Rochelle’s Le P’tit Bleu seafood shack) and watched a full moon rise over the headland, bright as a spotlight. Belle-Île is aptly named, and this particular cove might just be the most beautiful corner of it.

We left Port La Vie with the tide at midday, hoping to reach Ile d’Yeu by early afternoon and secure a dockside berth in the busy harbour there. But light winds meant we had a fairly leisurely sail and only reached Port Joinville at 5.30pm when the marina had begun to fill up. The harbour staff are very helpful though and always try to accommodate visiting yachts. We ended up sandwiched between two other boats – both with dogs on board, who greeted Buddy enthusiastically (at least, I think that was welcome barking…). Rafting is never ideal, but necessary and widespread in France in August, especially in popular spots like this.

At least we knew the town already, having visited Ile d’Yeu back in July – and happily, the excellent fishmonger here stays open till 7pm…long enough for us to nip ashore and snap up some ingredients for dinner. After a galley supper of baked fish with olive tapenade (bought in the market at Saint-Gilles-Croix-de-Vie) and some saffron risotto, we opted for an early night. Tomorrow would be a long day’s sail to Belle-Ile, and back into Breton waters!

The next stop on our journey north needed to be near a train station, so that my brother and niece could hop out and catch a train to Nantes. Les Sables was the nearest option but, at only two hours sail away from our anchorage, it seemed a shame not to enjoy the perfect NE conditions and sail a little further up the coast. After scanning the charts and pilot guide, we decided to carry on to St Gilles-Croix-de-Vie, which has a good, fast train link to Nantes, and a marina capacity for 1000 boats. Imray’s 2018 guide mentions challenging tidal conditions for entry at Port La Vie, as well as depth restrictions of 1.5m in the marina. But its entry on the boating app Navily (which is more up to date) suggested it was entirely possible for Exeat to berth there, if we entered at the optimum state of tide. We decided to try our luck.

Thankfully the online information was absolutely correct and, after four hours of champagne sailing, we sailed into Port La Vie on the last of the flood, and berthed at the visitors’ pontoon with assistance from the helpful dockside staff. The port at Saint-Gilles-Croix-de-Vie is the oldest in the Vendée region, renowned for its sardine fishing along the Atlantic “Coast of Light” (we even received a free tin of local sardines when we checked in at the capitainerie – along with iced bottles for the fridge, at a very reasonable 1 euro each). The marina is very central, with good shoreside facilities and a wide choice of nearby restaurants, thanks to the town’s popularity as a holiday resort. We dined at La Bouchon, which had a suitably child-friendly menu alongside some classic French dishes like Beef Tartare, Moules Frites and Crème Brûlée (the beef carpaccio with pesto, and dill-flavoured fish tartare were both exceptionally fresh and tasty).

The town’s unusally picturesque train station is less than ten minutes walk from the marina, with a well-stocked Spar supermarket nearby, and a food and clothing market open in the mornings; closer still was a “Chic Lavarie” with 6-20kg washing machines and touchscreen payment (chic indeed!). Over all, Port La Vie ticked all our shoreside boxes and we rated it an outstanding 9.5/10 – it only lost half a point after we spotted three sizeable rats scuttling along the pontoon as we made our way back to Exeat after supper. We kept the boat’s hatches tightly shut that night, despite the hot conditions!

Tempting as it was to keep on going south, after two months in France – sailing down the coast from Roscoff to La Rochelle – it was finally time to turn around and start the journey home (if we were to be back in the UK for the start of the autumn term for our two children).

As soon as the lock gate opened at Port de Saint-Martin we set off, sailing north for the first time in weeks. With a brisk north-easterly, we had a pleasant fetch back to mainland France, and anchored off Les Conches beach, near La Tranche sur Mer. It was such an unexpectedly stunning spot that we entered the anchorage onto Navily for other sailors to find. The vast swathe of golden sand here is bordered by an equally vast forest, making the beach relatively unoccupied (except for some sun-loving naturists). The only downside was the presence of some huge barrel jellyfish in the water, which put us all off swimming from the boat. Instead, we paddle-boarded ashore, and my young niece was delighted to find that the tide had left behind some warm pools of sea-water that she could practise her mermaid impression in.

It was a peaceful evening, despite the 18 knots NE wind, and the next morning we decided to make the most of the breeze and carry on north to Les Sables.

We couldn’t leave the Île de Re without visiting its capital and port of Saint Martin, accessible through a lock gate 3 hours before High Tide and 2.5 hours after.

This quintessentially French town clusters around the port with so many chic boutiques, appealing restaurants, and elegantly dressed holiday-makers strutting along the quay that it feels like Paris-on-sea. On a Sunday in August the town was busy, and we were rafted three boats abreast in the marina. On top of that, it was our most expensive berthing to date, at an eye-watering 60 euros for the night. But we had access to dockside electricity and water, nearby showers, and a single, in demand Miele washing machine and dryer.

In the evening, we strolled into the nearby park and ate grilled seafood platters and oysters at Ben-Hur Char à Huîtres – a casual but atmospheric eaterie under a marquee, with a live jazz band on hand to entertain diners (and very patient staff serving our table of eleven).

The next day we would begin our sail back north along the French coastline, in order to reach Roscoff by the end of the month and then back across the Channel to Plymouth.

For the past few days we’ve had more unsettled weather here in La Rochelle than we’ve had all summer, with some strong winds overnight and even a day of showers. Consequently we haven’t done as much overnight island-hopping as we’d planned, but have instead been taking day trips out of La Rochelle to explore the surrounding area, then retreating back to the safety of the city’s harbour for the night.

One bonus of this option is that the capitainerie offer a 3-for-2 night deal if you stay in the port for two consecutive nights. Another advantage is that being back in the port each night makes daily menu-planning and provisioning very easy, knowing we can go to La Rochelle’s excellent food market each morning and stock up with fresh produce. The only (minor) disadvantage is being restricted to leaving and entering when the lifting gate opens, at set times each day. But it’s good to know that if we ever came back too late to access the Vieux Port, we could always go to Minimes marina instead.

During this time, we managed to sail over to Île d’Aix (which is around three hours away from La Rochelle) but the wind and tide made for a very rolly sea so, after a swift lunch at anchor, we made a hasty return. Sadly we haven’t managed to get as far as the Île d’Oleron because the strong northerly winds could have made it challenging for us to sail back. Instead, we’ve taken to sailing to and around the Île de Ré, anchoring off the eastern shore at Anse de l’Oubye for lunch and swimming exploits. This anchorage has the dual benefits of being near a spectacular stretch of beach, with the magnificent urban backdrop of the bridge that links the island to La Rochelle.

On Sunday, we’ll make for St Martin de Ré and head into the port there to collect our son and enjoy a last night on the Île de Ré before starting the sail back up the French coastline.

After four nights on the Ile de Ré (two in the port of Ars-en-Ré and two anchored off the island’s eastern coastline at Anse de l’Oubye), we needed to sail into La Rochelle to collect my brother and niece, who were due to stay on Exeat with us for a week.

It’s been nearly twenty years since I was last in the city, but I still had a slightly faded memory of the beautiful old port, with its wraparound cafes and bars serving seafood platters, ice-creams, cold beers and other welcome treats. Of course, it’s completely different seeing a place from the water, and it was awe-inspiring to enter the harbour between its two 14th century stone towers – Saint Nicolas Tower and the Chain Tower, which together protected the city in ancient times. Now, the port is solely guarded by the capitainerrie, who are decidedly friendlier than the foreboding fortresses. The harbour-master who met us in the Vieux Port also spoke excellent English, and found us a berth for the night in the Bassin des Chalutiers – which is just beyond the old port, through a lifting gate that opens at set times throughout the day (depending on High Tide but check with the Capitain).

Another option for staying in La Rochelle is the big modern marina of Minimes but we liked the idea of being near La Vieux Port so we could be within walking distance of the shops, and immerse ourselves into the heart of this popular and picturesque city. The Bassin has the advantage of being slightly quieter at night than the Vieux Port itself, which seems to only accommodate small boats.

After tracking down my favourite shoreside facility (that’s right, a laundrette!), we queued up at the fabulous seafood shack Le P’tit Bleu for freshly grilled squid, razor clams, sardines and prawns. All superlative, and the perfect way to while away an hour or so until my brother and niece arrived into La Rochelle train station.

When we first started planning where to sail in Exeat this summer, we always hoped to reach France. But after our son was invited to stay with a friend on the Ile de Ré in August, our plans started to crystallise. We could sail him there!

Now, following months of planning and six weeks of sailing down the French coast from Roscoff (after crossing the Channel in early June), we have finally arrived at our destination: Ars-en-Ré in the north-west of the beautiful Ile de Ré, just off (and linked by bridge to) La Rochelle. En route, we’ve discovered some stunning islands, picture-postcard anchorages and delightful coastal towns. But Ars-en-Ré may just be the gem in the crown of this gorgeous coastline: the bijou marina is minutes from the town, where an array of welcoming restaurants spill over onto the streets (Chez Remi is expensive but wonderful, with service that matches its superb menu). Another nearby asset is the huge market, open every morning seven days/week during the summer, selling everything from clothes and pottery to artisan bread, cheese, saucisson and shellfish. (An added bonus is that the marina showers here are the best we’ve sampled yet in France!).

In short, I’d happily stay here for a week but the water level – both in the Bassin de la Criée marina and its shallow entrance – will soon become too low for Exeat’s 2m keel, as we move out of spring tides and head towards neeps. We entered at High Water on Saturday and even that was a bit hairy! So, two nights here is all Skipper will allow us, and then we must make for deeper water – possibly La Rochelle, or maybe the nearby Ile d’Oleron. I’m looking forward to exploring the anchorages here over the next week, while our son has some time on land with his friends. Then we’ll pick him up in a week’s time and begin our sail back.

Despite the light winds, we had a fantastic sail to Les Sables, spinnaker flying and whizzing Exeat along at a steady 7 knots.

We’d last been to Les Sables in 2009 to meet a friend returning from the legendary solo yacht race, the Vendée Globe. Our kids had been tiny then – the youngest still in a pushchair – so didn’t remember much of the place, other than making sandcastles on the beach. In truth, I can’t say I remembered the town very well either – it looked so different when it had been full of Vendée supporters, the press, and all the different sailing teams taking part. On the evening we arrived in Exeat, Les Sables looked more like Venice, with lights from all the riverside bars and bistros shimmering over the still water, and water taxis the only nocturnal traffic.

Before entering the marina, all visitors are required to stop at the waiting pontoon and go to the harbour-master in person. This meant only a small delay to berthing, and we were soon settled in Port Olona in the Port de Plaisance (marina). Better still, the Capitain traded five bottles of our (now defrosted) fridge water for newly iced bottles – only sailors with a broken fridge in the height of summer will know the joy this brought to us! Another joy for me was the automated lavarie (washing machines + tumble dryer, open 24/7) a short walk away, near a Carrefour supermarket – enabling me to kill two birds with one stone, and put a 10kg wash on while I shopped for a few fresh ingredients. I realise it must sound like I’m obsessed with laundrettes but, honestly, with four of us on board full-time, in hot weather, the laundry bag is never empty!

Tempting though the town’s many lively restaurants looked, we had tasty supplies from Port Joinville to barbecue, so ate on board while we planned the final leg of our journey. It’s strange to think our destination is now almost in sight, and that once we reach it we won’t be sailing any further south…on this adventure anyway.

With our water tanks re-filled, fridge replenished with ice, and galley cupboards re-stocked, we left the hustle and bustle of Port Joinville and headed down the coast to the south of the island.

The eastern edge of the Île d’Yeu is lined with vast sandy beaches and appealing inlets: we liked the look of Anse des Vieilles, a small cove just past the island’s southernmost tip. There were a few other boats anchored here before us, but possibly some sailors are put off by the numerous yellow swimming buoys that extend quite far out into the bay – restricting both how close you can anchor to the shoreline, and how many boats can actually fit within the shelter of the bay. We were anchored some distance away and consequently let out 45m of chain but, other than a longer dinghy ride to reach the shore, this didn’t really bother us. One other potential downside to this anchorage is the swell coming in from the west, which kicked in with force around 3am, making for a very bouncy night.

Otherwise, Anse des Vieilles is a pretty and peaceful spot, with a coastal path that makes for a good walk ashore, where there’s an ice-cream van, public toilets, kayak hire and recycling facilities serving the many beach-goers here. There’s also a designated stone harbour for tenders, which is useful for landing one’s dinghy when the beach is busy.

We had to press on to Les Sables the following morning if we were to reach La Rochelle by the weekend, but hoped to return to Ile d’Yeu on our way back to Brittany at the end of August.

Leaving the dockside dramas of L’Herbaudiere far behind us, we had a delightful sail south to Île d’Yeu, with the clouds clearing – literally and metaphorically – as we sailed ever closer to the island.

We were grateful to arrive at Port Joinville (the island’s capital) early in the day, when the Capitain ushered us straight into a convenient pontoon berth. As other boats continued to enter the marina throughout the afternoon and evening, they ended up heavily rafted in the central pontoons (up to four abreast!), which no doubt would make for some fun and games at departure time. Thankfully nothing for us to worry about on this occasion.

Wandering into town, we decided that although Port Joinville had a similar buzz to Belle-Ile’s Le Palais, the architecture here seemed less French than any of the other seaside towns we’d stopped at. It reminded us all of a Spanish or Greek island, with its low, white-washed houses and terracotta roof tiles – though, of course, the ubiquitous wooden shutters, painted in a kaleidoscope of pastels, reassured us we were most definitely still in France. Perhaps the Mediterranean-influenced housing was a feature of the Vendée region that we were now sailing through.

Port Joinville was once the leading tuna fishing port on the west coast of France, so naturally we felt obliged to seek out some of the local catch. Fortunately, the town’s poissonerie is right on the main thoroughfare and we were able to buy some first-class ‘thon rouge’, which the fishmonger kindly sprinkled with ice so we could carry on shopping for our supper ingredients. A Super-U on the outskirts of town provided us with everything else we needed (there is also a Casino supermarket located a little closer to the marina), and we headed back to Exeat with our plunder.

We turned our poisson into Tuna Tartare, mincing and macerating the raw fish with lemon juice, chopped shallots, capers and a scoop of crème fraiche, and served it with a sweet & salty cucumber salad and buttered Île d’Yeu potatoes. Sublime!

Imray’s pilot guide suggests that it’s worth coming to Port Joinville for the fishmonger alone; excellent as our tuna was, I think that’s doing the town something of a disservice, which has much to commend it, including some delightful-looking restaurants and bars which sadly we didn’t have time to sample during our brief visit. All in all, it made for a very pleasant pitstop on our route south, and the sizeable marina is a reasonable 44.80 euros/night in peak season. Just be aware that, as the island’s capital, Port Joinville is a busy, bustling place with ferry boats to the mainland coming and going, as well as helicopters landing regularly at the nearby heliport.

Before continuing on our journey to La Rochelle, we thought we’d explore Île d’Yeu further, and decided to try and find an anchorage on the island’s south coast the following day.

We have finally left Brittany and entered the Vendée region of France. It felt a poignant moment to take down the Breton flag Exeat has been flying ever since arriving at Roscoff in June, but we were excited to be heading on south towards our final destination of La Rochelle.

Our first port of call in the Vendée was at L’Herbaudière on Noirmoutier-en-l’île. Pleasant as the port seems, I have to admit that we did not have the most auspicious stay here. Having safely docked at the visitors’ pontoon in the early afternoon, a torrent of boats proceeded to enter the harbour looking for berths for the night. As it is fairly small, and the only all-tide port on the île de Noirmoutier, visiting yachts are required to raft together. By the end of the day we had two boats rafted to Exeat, and three also rafted in the berth ahead of us – but their arrivals were not without drama! A large blue Beneteau collided with our anchor as it tried to berth (removing some paint on their bowsprit, but not causing us any significant damage thankfully). Minutes later, another Beneteau was heading towards us at high speed, blown onto our starboard side by the wind and tide, and seemingly with very little control to slow the boat’s progress. My son and I leapt to Exeat’s stern and held the Beneteau at bay, until she came to a halt and we were able to fit some fenders between our boats, and help secure her to Exeat for the night.

While all this was taking place on the pontoon, Skipper managed to source several ice bottles from the capitainerie. As we waited for the ice to take effect and lower the temperature of our defunct fridge, we ventured ashore to one of the port’s bars and sampled some delicious local oysters – the unique Vendee Atlantique variety are a deserved speciality of the region.

Overnight a North-Easterly came in, blowing the wind and waves straight through the harbour entrance and onto the hammerhead pontoons, making for a very unsettled night. Skipper was up rearranging fenders and lines for half the night, and by 9am he had decided we would beat a hasty retreat. But first we had to unraft ourselves from our neighbours – who were none too pleased at having to move their boat, when they had planned to head off for a cycle round the island that morning. Some fruity French phrases filled the air while they re-arranged lines and power cables. We managed to slip away from the pontoon stern-first, and headed gratefully out of L’Herbaudiare for the Ile d’Yeu, hoping for a calmer stay.

Boat was great, the weather was not as nice.

A 5 day crossing turned into a 7 day nightmare. Strong winds, rain squalls and mechanical problems resulted in a very rough ride.

Perhaps I was being unfair to Pornichet in my last post. After staying a second night (due to inclement weather), I discovered some hidden gems in the town that made me feel a little more favourably towards it – and certainly made the enforced additional day in Port de Pornichet a whole lot more enjoyable than it first promised:

1. In the centre of town there is the most incredible covered food market, selling a vast array of seafood, as well as cheeses, bread, olives, fresh meat, fruit and vegetables. It’s open from 8am-1pm Tuesday to Sunday, and on Mondays during July and August.
2. Opposite the market is a Rotisserie selling whole cooked chickens, pork joints, and potatoes drenched in the flavoursome juices of the meat they’ve been cooked beneath, which my children declared to be “the best potatoes we’ve ever eaten”. I almost always buy a rotisserie chicken when I can because they make such delicious, easy lunches on the boat – pulled apart and piled onto baguettes, or tipped into salads, or added to risotto and pasta dishes. On this occasion, skipper chose a pork joint and potatoes, and we reheated both in our on-board oven for a simple supper. It disappeared post haste.
3. Also in town is a fabulously chic patisserie which I walked past, drooling, twice, before finally succumbing and snapping up a chocolate gateau that looked like Nutella in cake form. It was heavenly, and worth every cent and calorie.
4. Down a shady side-street between the seafront and the town square is a sweet little bar L’Annexe which served me the first properly chilled glass of Chardonnay that I’d had since our fridge broke down last week. It made waiting for the laundry an absolute pleasure.

Would these things alone be enough for me to return to Pornichet? Probably not. But I think they almost made up for the lack of ice, basic marina facilities, and forty minute round trip walking to the nearest laundrette carrying three bags of washing.

We needed to get our daughter’s friend to a train station for Monday morning, and Pornichet seemed to be the best option from our anchorage near Le Croisic. It was a few hours sail along our route south, had a marina that could hold 1000 boats, and the train station had direct trains to Nantes (from where you can either fly from Nantes airport, or catch fast trains to Paris and, from there, the Eurostar). In retrospect, its proximity to a station may be the only thing to really commend it.

Port de Pornichet is at the far end of the Baie du Pouliguen, whose wraparound sandy beach is flanked by a heavily-developed seafront. Blocks of flats (hotels presumably) span the shoreline as far as the eye can see – somewhat of a shock to us after all the deserted beaches we’d been anchoring at for the past few weeks.

Pornichet’s marina – though large, with well-maintained pontoons and dockside power and water – had slightly disappointing facilities (particularly when an overnight berth in High Season costs 58 euros). The teens had been longing for “proper” showers but found the unisex shower block fairly basic, and certainly little improvement on the boat heads. A minor annoyance for us was the feature on the pontoon power supplies of a green button that times-out after a few hours, requiring you to actively go and switch it on again to keep the electricity flowing. A greater disaster was the total absence of laundry facilities – highly unusual in a marina of this size. (The nearest option is the Laverie du Marché launderette in the town square, fifteen minutes walk away – but fellow users: do note you can only pay in cash). And the final disappointment was not being able to get hold of any ice – either from the Capitain or any of the town’s supermarkets (a Spar, Casino and, further out, an Intermarché). Quel horreur! With a broken fridge and daily temperatures in the high twenties, we were restricted in what fresh food we could store on board until we could stock up with ice again, which meant shopping for things like milk, cheese, meat and fish on a daily basis.

We decided to raise crew morale with dinner out. One thing the marina does have in good supply is a number of lively restaurants and bars. We plumped for Le Ponant, which seemed to have a wide variety of dishes that would hopefully suit all five members of our party but wouldn’t break the bank. It proved a safe choice, and between us we dined on moules frites, steak, baked cod and a chicken burger, followed by the fabulously French desserts of chocolate fondant, crème brûlée, and my new discovery of Cafe Gourmand – a shot of coffee surrounded by four or five miniature desserts, which I shared out. While we ate, we watched the antics of a hapless yacht trying to berth in the tightly packed marina without an operational engine and in full sail; we may have a broken fridge and non-functioning generator, but we could count our blessings that at least Exeat was safely docked and we had nothing more to do for now than relax in each other’s company and enjoy the sun setting on this balmy evening.

After several weeks exploring the Morbihan and islands in the Quiberon Bay area, we were ready to resume our sail south and begin heading down the coast towards La Rochelle. We were due there for the 1st August – to deliver our son to a friend’s house on the Île de Ré, so we had a comfortable week to work our way down the coastline, perhaps stopping at the Ile d’Yeu en route.

First stop out of the Vilaine was an anchorage off the beach at Rade de Croisic, between La Turballe and the harbour at Le Croisic. As we approached, there were still some big swells coming into the bay, but the westerly wind was due to die down later that evening so we took our chances and dropped the hook. The beach opposite is vast and sandy (though a portion of it, La Plage de Pen Bron, is designated for naturists), and the water appealingly clear. Even a cluster of tiny comb jellies didn’t put the teens off from swimming late into the evening and most of the following morning too.

For once, we were the only boat anchored in the bay – though I imagine it’s usually a popular spot. The westerly wind had no doubt put most sailors off on this occasion, but our gamble paid off and we had a peaceful evening as the wind continued to drop.

La Roche-Bernard is the first town you reach on the banks of the Vilaine (although there is a marina just beyond the lock gate, and you can also anchor in the river outside of the main channel).

On arrival, we were directed by the Capitain to a visitor’s berth at the Port-Neuf marina, which has walk-ashore pontoons with power and water. Surprisingly (given that there’s also a campsite adjacent to the marina) shopping facilities are some distance from the port, with the nearest bakery and supermarket a good twenty minutes walk uphill – though we did manage to buy frozen water for our broken fridge from the capitainerie (at 2 euros a bottle).

There are several bistros bordering the waterfront near the Vieux Port, but – lured by the sound of live jazz floating through the air – we wandered into the pretty medieval town to explore our options for dinner. The town square near the Artisan Quarter is encircled by cafes and restaurants (including the Michelin-recommended Auberge des Deux Magots). We were drawn to the shady courtyard of the Creperie de la Roche which delivered delicious galettes and excellent service (including offering Buddy a water bowl, which he gratefully lapped up after a long day on the boat).

The following morning, we planned to head back out of the Vilaine, catching the 2pm lock opening (check times and requirements here). Another time, I would love to explore the river further – you can sail all the way up the Vilaine to Redon. But as we needed to be in La Rochelle in a week’s time, we would have to leave that discovery until our next visit.

The anchorage at Treac’h er Goured on the eastern edge of Houat was busier than ever (now that we were in the middle of the summer holidays) but no less lovely. Buddy was in raptures at being able to run the length of the glittering white beach, and the teens spent the afternoon diving and swimming off the boat. After a barbecue of some excellent lamb kebabs from the butcher in Vannes, we settled down to sleep…only to be woken at 2am by the boat rocking and rolling in some very heavy swells. A northerly wind had blown in during the night, and was due to pick up further the following evening with gusts of 30 knots forecast. After a restless night, we raised the anchor at first light and decided to make for the shelter of the Vilaine river.

When we reached the lock gate in the Vilaine, we realised we weren’t the only ones with this idea – the gate entrance was crammed with yachts and motorboats all jostling to get through when the gate next opened at 2pm. We tied Exeat alongside a holding pontoon, and waited for instructions from the harbour-master. As the different vessels threw lines round chains on the lock walls to keep them in some sort of secure formation, we were beckoned over to join the throng. It was all hands on deck (in lifejackets, as per the Capitain’s orders) to move fenders where they were needed, throw lines, and gently steer Exeat into the tightly-packed bundle of boats. Then the lock gates were closed and the water level raised. Our son was fascinated by the mechanics behind it all, and watched with interest as the boats were lifted up by the rising water, and released when the lock gate at the other end opened. Eventually we were out the other side, and sailed in short tacks up the Vilaine to La Roche-Bernard.

It’s often said that sailing is shorthand for fixing your boat in exotic locations. Well, having left Cowes in May, and been in constant use for two and a half months, Exeat is now starting to fulfil that idiom. Last week the generator stopped working – not critical, but useful to have when we’re anchored and off-grid for several days. And this morning, the fridge went on strike – to its credit, it had worked incredibly hard during the recent heatwaves, so I’m not surprised it finally said “Fini!”.

We had a tentative appointment with some engineers in La Trinité to look at the generator but, when we arrived at the marina, we discovered the town was in full swing of the Drheam Cup sailing event. Initially we thought we’d be turned away but the Capitain took pity on us, and squeezed us into a temporary berth for one night. It was incredible to see some of the race’s maxi-trimarans up close, including the boats for Team Koesio, IDEC SPORT, and winning tri Leyton (skippered by the British sailor, Sam Goodchild). As competitors from different classes trickled into the marina over the course of the evening, we sampled another batch of Morbihan oysters that we’d bought earlier from a little huitrerie on the shores of the Ile-aux-Moines; they were so fresh it was like swallowing mouthfuls of briny sunshine.

The following morning, the engineers we’d been in touch with e-mailed to say they could no longer see us this week, so – as ever with sailing – we came up with a new plan. We’d have to get the generator mended once we reached La Rochelle at the end of the month. As for the fridge, we resolved to treat it like a cool-box until we could get it serviced: I bought several bottles of ice (it’s a thing in France!), laid them in the bottom of the fridge and piled the meat, cheese and beers on top. Skipper thought the beers should have gone in first, but I think I’d rather choose warm beer over food poisoning.

We decided to visit the Ile d’Houat one last time before starting our journey south on Friday. So, after fresh pain-a-chocolat from town, we headed out of busy la Trinité to find an anchorage for the night.

There’s something about being in France that makes me want to cook all those classic French dishes we associate with the country. Homemade galettes were a bit of a disaster – that thin lacy buckwheat batter is surprisingly hard to work with. Moules Mariniere went down rather better with my crew. And today’s French onion tart was one of the most popular on-board meals yet.

I started with a BBC Good Food recipe and adapted it to suit my ingredients and galley facilities. The pastry was actually incredibly easy and satisfying to make (and would be even easier if you had access to a food processor), but you can buy ready rolled pastry in most supermarkets if you’d rather take a shortcut for this step. And if, like me, you don’t have any baking beans to hand, fear not – dried beans such as kidney beans, or even dry lentils, work just as well to weigh the pastry down when you’re baking the tart case.

Ingredients

For the pastry:

• 200g plain flour
• 100g very cold butter, grated
• 50g finely grated Emmental / Gruyere / Comte cheese
• 1 tablespoon chopped thyme leaves
• 1 teaspoon salt
• freshly ground pepper
• 2-3 tablespoons cold water

For the filling

• olive oil and butter
• 3 large onions, halved and finely sliced into half-moons
• sea salt and black pepper
• 2 tablespoon white wine vinegar
• 100g of your favourite cheese – I used a mixture of Emmental and a Dolcelatte-style blue cheese
• 300ml double cream
• 2 large eggs

Method

1. Grate the cold butter into the flour, and add the salt and a good grinding of pepper, along with the finely grated cheese and chopped thyme. Mix well, and add the water gradually until the pastry starts to come together. Wrap into a ball and chill for at least half an hour.
2. Meanwhile, pour some olive oil and a knob of butter into a frying pan, and cook the sliced onions on a gentle heat. Sprinkle with sea salt and stir regularly to prevent them sticking. After 30-40 minutes they should have begun to caramelise and colour. You may need to add a sprinkling of sugar to speed the process up. Once the onions have softened and are looking suitably sticky, add the white wine vinegar and cook for a further five minutes until this has been absorbed. Then remove from the heat.
3. Roll out the pastry dough and place into a lined tart tin. Lay a sheet of baking paper over the pastry, and fill the tart with baking beans or raw kidney beans. Bake in the oven for 15 minutes. Then remove the beans and bake for a further five minutes, or until the dough no longer has any raw patches.
4. Whisk the eggs and cream together, then add the grated cheese and the caramelised onions. Pour into the pre-baked tart shell and bake for 25-30 minutes until the filling is set, but retains a slight wobble.
5. Once you have taken it out of the oven, let the cooked tart cool for 15 minutes before slicing and serving with green salad and new potatoes.

It’s always delightful to be in Vannes, even in an extreme heatwave. Luckily the swing bridge and lock gate opened early that morning (you can check times on the port’s website), so we were in the marina by 11.30am. While the teens had the first of many showers that day, Jerry and I dashed into town while the heat was just about bearable to buy supplies. Although many independent shops (such as the poissonerie, butcher, Nicolas off-license and most stalls in the Halles Des Lices) in Vannes are closed on Mondays, the local Casino store is open, and a few bakeries – notably the famed Francoise. At least we now had water and Kouign-Amann!

The afternoon passed slowly and torturously trying to keep Exeat cool and shady as the mercury climbed to 43 C, and the slight breeze had little effect in fanning us. The usually brilliant French train network was also struggling in the insane heat, and our friend’s train from Paris was delayed, then cancelled, then rescheduled to 9pm. We were glad to have made the decision to stay in Vannes for the night, rather than rely on the bateaux-bus in and out of the Morbihan (with the last one to the île d’Arz leaving Vannes at 19.45)

At 6.30pm, having eaten little but chilled watermelon all afternoon, we ventured out to buy ice-cream and walk Buddy through the public gardens bordering Vannes’ medieval ramparts. The sight of this lush expanse of grass, dotted with ornately planted flowerbeds, made us all feel fractionally cooler, and we leant gratefully against the ancient stone walls to finish our ice-creams. Our friend’s train from Paris eventually arrived just before midnight, when the temperature was still a balmy 29 C.

The following morning, we bid Au revoir once more to Vannes, and headed out into the Golfe du Morbihan, hoping to sail on to the Île d’Houat. But as we reached the mouth of the Morbihan, the wind picked up, and the sea state became far rougher. Conditions out in Quiberon Bay would be amplified yet again, which we knew would not make for very teen-friendly sailing. Skipper turned Exeat around and we anchored on the sheltered eastern side of Île-aux-Moines, where the teenagers happily swum all evening, explored the shoreline, and ate local oysters (no doubt from the very oyster beds opposite our anchorage!).

We exited Quiberon harbour as a fiery red sun rose from its slumber. Exeat was the first boat in the bay and, with a healthy easterly breeze we enjoyed a brisk beat into the Morbihan. In a week’s time we would continue our journey south to La Rochelle, but tomorrow we had a friend joining the boat for a few days so it made sense to stay in this beautiful playground a little longer.

Having previously anchored by the Île aux Moines and Île d’Arz when staying in the Golfe du Morbihan, we thought we’d try somewhere new, and plumped for the little island of Île Llur. This proved a quieter anchorage than some of the more popular spots, and has a sandy beach which gradually filled up with sunbathers and swimmers throughout the day. What’s not allowed on its golden shores though are Les Chiens. A fierce ranger turned Buddy away as we tried to land the dinghy, so across the channel, back to the Ile d’Arz we went, and walked Buddy into the island’s town. Despite the heat, the place was buzzing on a sunny Sunday, with holidaymakers sitting out at cafes and creperies, and cyclists weaving expertly through its winding streets. There’s also a post office in town and a Spar (open 8.30-8pm weekdays, and 6pm Sundays).

As the day progressed the temperature climbed relentlessly into the mid-thirties, and we were glad of a sea breeze wafting over Exeat’s deck. Tomorrow we planned to sail into Vannes to collect our friend, and the forecast was for it to be the hottest day of the year so far at 37 C. The city would no doubt feel like a furnace but, on balance, we decided it would be better to have Exeat in the marina there (where we could at least shelter in her shade) rather than have to traipse on foot between Vannes’ train station and the ferry ports in the sweltering heat. Skipper was also quite looking forward to revisiting his old stomping ground (and no doubt paying a visit to his favourite bakery…). We could only hope that some cooling breeze would follow us into Vannes.

Although Hœdic island looks deserted, there is some infrastructure on land, with a clutch of holiday cottages and cafés just inshore from the anchorage of Portz Guen. We were delighted to score some fresh pain-au-chocolat from the bakery, and ate them as we walked back through the sand dunes to the boat.

After three nights at anchor, we needed to restock Exeat’s galley cupboards, fill up with water, offload our bags of recycling, and empty the boat’s bulging laundry bag (which seems to fill up impossibly quickly with four of us on board full-time). Port Haliguen marina in Quiberon seemed a good destination to make for – it was a short sail away from Hœdic, and had all the shoreside facilities you’d expect of a modern, newly renovated marina. We could tick off all of the above, then head into Quiberon town for supper once the day had cooled down enough to attempt the half hour walk.

In the end, the town proved something of a disappointment compared to the shiny modernism of Port Haliguen, with the seafront establishments here looking shabbier and busier than the marina’s slick new bistros. Any restaurant with a half-decent rating was packed, and every second venue seemed to be a creperie – much as we all love Breton galettes, we fancied something heartier after a long day of sailing and chores. Eventually, we found a table at L’Huîtrière in Quiberon, with a delicious sea breeze cooling us as we sat on their first floor terrace and ate moules frites with chilled rosé – it might not have been the best meal we’d had in Brittany, but it was gratefully received (especially the excellent desserts of salted caramel mousse and chocolate “delice”).

We planned a dawn start the following morning to catch high tide at the Morbihan, and were all happy to have an early night in the peaceful setting of Port Haliguen.