Brittany Ferry and the home straight

Roscoff stands beside a natural harbour of a rugged granite  coastline that is a confusion of islands. The enormous tidal range exposes white sand beaches and a sometimes muddy harbour. Welcome relief from the heat of the road yesterday, the cool breeze has rain spitting in the wind.
Mid afternoon and embarkation enables a chance meeting up with another Morgan couple of travellers. Their's is a 2008 model with the 2 litre Duratec power unit and a little more powerful than our own but the year of manufacture the same. Their home just half an hours drive from us on the edge of Dartmoor. Hopefully we shall catch up again soon.

Riding the air-waves this pair of Gannets enjoy the ride north

He watches me watching him look me in the eye.

Mog away to Italy

Brexit vote already posted  we take the night ferry crossing from Plymouth to Roscoff  arriving at 8am into a damp blanket of low cloud. Within a mile of arrival a sobering sight greeted us. An accident victim was lying on the ground looking very bloodied, being comforted by someone, as a number of onlookers stood by. It appeared that his machine had been struck at our T junction and been thrown off the road into the field to our left. Ambulances sped to the scene as we headed away.
By the time we reached Le Mans the cloud cover and our spirits begin to lift. Then our first stop for fuel and refreshments. No sign of a fuel strike so far.
The Morgan is performing as it should, fully laden and on song.  We are escorted for several miles by a Ferrari which wafts by in gunmetal grey livery looking  good, and driven in gentle manner.  Two or three times we were hampered by heavy goods and only then did the growl of a Ferrari exhaust note tell of momentary frustration.
Our first rest stop is at Gannat and a new venue Hôtel-Logis La Coraline where the Mog is cocooned under a tarp and by early morning a clear sky dawns. Highly recommended is our finding. The charming hosts are Phillipe and Pascale.
Continuing towards Briancon, a more northerly route had to be taken due to closures. Saint Etienne, Chamberry, Valloire and the Col du Galibier gave us a splendid scenic route to Briancon.

As the mountain road ascended we were overtaken by a race-rally of some seriously quick sports machines and the Morgan enjoyed a moment of glory as we passed professional photographer; Griffopix .  Some burbled, others roared, turbo Porsches  drummed and a Lotus of some sort positively screamed by.  Now  here I had better add that the road surface was newly gritted and very dusty. Motorcyclists heading our way were riding well aware they had poor grip on lines of loose raised gravel. A sweeper truck was creating great clouds of dust and as we edged into the grass verge his high up driving cab was totally enveloped in the grey stuff.

  

Stop to admire the view

Heavy snows layered with Sahara desert sand fell this year

Going up and up

A chill wind here but soon  the descent leads into warm air

Photo  session here is halted by a sudden rain shower 

The Galibier tunnel from the south entrance

Brianson  B&B  of a rustic nature and run by a British couple.

La Vieille Ecurie served up delicious food but the greeting was a cold Basil Fawlty while Sybil seemed preoccupied strimming the lawn.  The apologetic young waitress was sweet enough, and it was left entirely to her to explain that there was a heating malfunction and no hot water for our bathroom. Helen was not best pleased  - We both left as dusty as we were on arrival.

Lost and found at Beer

Mariners, seafarers, navigators, adventurers and the like, have many ways to find their way about the wide open ocean.

A weighted plumb on the end of a long line, charged with a mass of sticky tallow. Deployed over the side into the sea, was soon retrieved with a sample from the ocean bed. With their knowledge of earlier passages the route could be re-traced by feeling and seeing what this primitive probe held at the foot. 

A leisurely walk along the tideline of Beer in Devon, revealed these few clues to my location. Nodules of flint, a scallop shell, a whelk and a sensor of some sort off a BMW engine.

The black plastic moulding is scuffed and smoothed all round its edges from the abrasion since being washed off the container ship Napoli, beached near here in January 2007. 

To remove this item from the beach at that time was soon to be made a criminal offence, but many took advantage of the opportunity regardless and items of far greater value than this were recovered from the shoreline.

The receiver of wrecks was nowhere to be seen yesterday, nine years after the hull of that stricken ship was cut up for scrap.

One of the divers engaged on the task of salvage operations was my nephew Jonathon. 

The seabed between Portland and Plymouth today remains littered with plenty more BMW motor parts. 

Roscoff ferry port

Killing time at Roscoff this morning a few of the more interesting items spotted included the sniffer dog barking an alarm at a hippy camper van. A lovely cream Daimler DB18 Drophead Coupé or something quite similar.  A trailer load of vintage citroen camper vans and a beautiful three wheeler Morgan parked near the market.

Note the badge bar

Cockpit with navigation gear

A dream machine for this boy.

Without a hood  and in the sunshine

A quartet of Citroen campers on their way to UK restorer & exporter

One is to be used selling Pizzas on the streets of New York and need not be a runner.  The yellow one in front had a dangling down C/V joint adrift with splined shaft all exposed. 

For peace of mind this bodger needs fix-it items "just in case".
Things that chug, puff, bang, and blow along in the wind, once in a while might require:-
Electrical tape,  gaffa tape, nylon tie strips, copper wire, pliers, mole grips (3), assorted spanners, screwdrivers (4) , two hammers (for eared wheel nuts), jack, wire wool, piano wire clips, Two spare relays, bulb set, latex gloves, paper wipes, two LED torches, grease gun, pot of grease, WD 40, rags, rug tool wrapper, fuses of various amperage, tarp and tie string, bungee cords, rope, umbrella, tyre pressure gauge,  breathalyzer kit, first aid kit, craft knife, magnetic probe for retrieving dropped bits from awkward places and so far not used ever.
Stored in the several voids beneath or inside the bodywork.
What went wrong you may ask.  Nothing at all went wrong with the Morgan. Why should it?

Easter Monday

Happy Family get-together and plenty of delicacies today then a warm sunny dash off to Plymouth.
The A38 road surface has been repaired and those awful trammelled sections eliminated.

A tall ship at Cap'n Jaspers and a walk along the Hoe was enjoyed by big crowds this bank holiday.

Cap'n Jasp'rs Plymouth, Lostwithial and Golant revisited

The Lido and Smeatons tower

The Hoe

 The Indian Summer blazes on in Devon today so Helen and Me choose the promenade walk along Plymouth Hoe and a coffee at Captain Jaspers where the upgrade to this iconic bikers cafe sees a revamped exterior with new Teak trimmings but the same quirky interior fitments and decor retained.The coffee is good at just £1 per cup minus a refundable 20p on return of the mug.

Fire engine was pumped by hand

At Lostwithial we visit the little museum and meet the curator ex bandsman who played the french horn in the army and showed us old photos of himself and friends, The exhibits are unusual to be sure and a lower floor reveals much of interest.  The 250 years old Nuttall Fire Engine was donated by the Earl of Mount Edgcumbe in 1761.

Antique shops predominate of one sort and another. including one with particularly distressed furniture and objects of curiosity at greatly inflated prices. Wandering on through the narrow street a busy sale room displayes a sign outside "Sale now on", however we are quickly recognised as paupers and my bum bag without a fist sized bulge fails to impress. It is quickly pointed out that the rooms are under preparation and that we might care to re-visit on sale day.   Perhaps we barged-in uninvited to some sort of preview. 

 Further down the lane we buy a coffee and cornish carrot cake to be consumed beside the river Foy.  

Heading now back on the road for a revisit to Golant and the secluded 15th Century church of St Sampson. Perched on a secluded hillside above the Foy estuary this charming little place is brightly lit inside, with the sun streaming in and added to, by spotlights attached to the carved roof timbers.

One bright interior with interesting barrel roof timbers.

Carving about the pulpit

St Sampson Church

Abandoned and all but forgotten

Another decaying hulk

Surely not sold as Bio Degradable 

Looked after I hope to preserve the Mog for several more years