One of Commisaire Dupin’s early crime scenes happened in Pont-Aven. The village is famous for artists like Paul Gauguin, impressionists and synthetism.

The museum is worth a visit and reveals: impressionism is not my cup of tea. Still, the museum takes care of different people with different taste in art, it consequently offers varying exhibitions. Apart from that, the building itself and also the entire village is nice enough for an excursion along the way.

The little port with idling boats perfectly reflects the atmosphere of a lazy Sunday morning. Galleries and nice little shops complete the picture of a lovely spot – especially when a nice lunch comes on top of all the beauty.

Happy with today’s views, I get back to Hector and move on to a campsite near Pointe de la Torche. I assume that it must be close to a beach and heard something about attractive landscape around. With only an hour on tiny roads away from today’s destination, it should be a piece of cake.

Time will tell if this expectation will work out well…

I will miss uncounted sunrises, once when holiday-mood will take over. But as for now, I am still haunted by work topics (“dream job”, I would say) and wake up early enough to see multi-coloured skies enfold just in front of my doorstep.

Motivated to use this day as much as I can, I hop on my folded bike and make it to Sainte-Martine. It is not even mentioned in my travel guide, but offers a handful of picturesque houses and two cafés around the sleepy port. From a more practical point of view, it is ideal as it offers a tiny ferry that takes pedestrians and bikers over the fjord-like water to Benodet (and from there, further on). Sitting on a table close to the ferry quay, I enjoy a coffee while waiting for the boat.

About 45 minutes later, I understand that the ferry is out of service without further notice or reason. Great opportunity for lunch and, thanks to fantastic fish on my plate, no regrets.

Yet, I still have an urge for efficiency in my sightseeing plans. Consequently, I take Hector for an excursion to Concarneau. The town is famous for the “Ville Close” and for Monsieur le commissaire Dupin.

In the end, Commissaire Dupin is a fictive character and nowhere to be seen. The Ville Close with its fortress walls is corrupted by a strong overtourism. I call it the “Mont-Saint-Michel” effect: medieval houses lose all of their charm when being changed into obtrusive souvenir shops. In the end, it is nice to cross it off my list.

Next attempt of a bike tour is to the other side: From Île-Tudy downtown (another micro-port) a shuttle ferry is supposed to bring men and bikes to Loctudy. However, due to Covid / illness among the mechanics and lack of required parts or tools, this is out of service. Meanwhile, I totally get it: the Universe tells me to calm down and relax.

Lazy hours at the beach and first dives into the ice-cold sea take over and I begin to oversleep sunrise-hours. Biggest sensation is the detection of one of the “eyes” = mosaïc œuvres all over the coast of the Finistère. Even better is the exposition of sand pictures in the building next door. Fascinating photographs that make me see the sand at my feet in a different light.

Another highlight is dinner at l’Estran, the very best restaurant of my first week – even beating lunch of Ste. Martine! The rest of my stay on Île-Tudy is beach, sand all over Hector’s couch and the fresh sea right at my feet.

The only thing missing is waves. And ferries increasing my bike-range. Hence, after wonderful beach days, it is time to move on. But before that, Hector leaves his signature on the beach, just to make a clear statement.

Hector (Van-Perspective): Men are stupid enough to plant trees between the camper parking and the castle – incredible species! So close and still out of sight – must be real life, then. At least, the overnight fee (11,-€) is lower than the entrance to the castle (14,-€). Perhaps some of the costumed persons on their horses come around later, after the show. I might tell them that I have 130 times more horsepower than any of them 😊.

B (Driver’s Perspective): So now Hector is huffy just because of a handful of trees, blocking the view on the huge, really huge castle Chambord. I will buy a postcard later. Coming along with a wonderful red wine, it should all be at ease this evening. But for now, I have places to go.

I have seen Chambord  35  25 years ago during school exchange program. It impressed me by far more than any other chateau along the Loire, to the extent that any other castle I have ever seen is just trying to become as fantastic as this. Neuschwanstein included (small, undone).

The umpteen little towers and details refer to various styles from any decade between 1519 and 1920. Strict geometrics in the general setting meet superfluous mini-towers on top. Enormous space on each floor enabled royal flat-sharing to Polish, French and other kings in the 16^th century, with a Molière theatre included.

These days, art expositions fill the higher floors, while historic furniture demonstrates life in long-gone eras below. I am more than happy, wandering through aisles and rooms, still stunned.

H: After all, the place is not too bad. About 20 other motorhomes stay for the night, most of them much younger and certainly bigger. But none as cool as me! Just like the Tardis: unobtrusive outside, cosy inside. With a living room, kitchen, bathroom and bedroom on only 5,60m – and the cockpit even comes on top!

The next morning comes with grey skies and with a wonderful view: as soon as we hit the first “rond-point”, the visual axis is all there. THE castle. Chambord.

And then it is there: Departure-Day, finally! As soon as Hector and me hit the road, freedom enfolds. Braincells meander in all possible directions, letting loose of stressful months. Becoming conscious, once more, of the real things in life. How little we are defined by work and how much by general values.

Driving becomes meditation and thoughts get clear. What is it, that makes life become full of joyful colours? Loving without recertification. Being loved among friends and family. Being free to choose how to live, how to work, and how we treat our body and our planet. Strangest sensation: the insight comes all by itself, without alcohol or expensive seminars – guess travelling still works well for me!

Meanwhile, my TomTom navi plays bingo, ignoring highways or dual carriageways of the well-marked kind. Or, more true, Hector decided that he likes France so much that he aims to see as much as possible. Landscape, especially.

After all, this is not our first trip and with only 40km of detour (blocked roads included), we arrive at “deep in the heart of nowhere” by mid-afternoon. The campsite must have been state-of-the-art in the 1980ies, but still it has a certain charm and a heated indoor pool. There is nothing better than a pool to relax back and shoulders after eight hours of driving!

Tired, but happy – that is the outcome of day 1. Once the journey starts, there is no questioning anymore. Just me, my van and the joy of travelling.