Paimpol is one of those French towns that comes to life at six in the morning. The boulangerie and patisserie were open for trade, so too were the cafes and tabacs. That early morning buzz is something that is lost in the UK. The only thing open in the UK at that time in the morning is the all-night garage and McDonalds. I said goodbye and left Liz to embark on her return journey back to the UK by bus, which would end up taking her rather longer than she had anticipated.
We got a good sail in for 10 miles around the coast and anchored off Ils de Sept, which was a bird sanctuary. Only one part of the island is open to the public (with a number of ferries arriving from the mainland). After the last ferry Linda and I went for a walk in the drizzling rain, where we met some French conservationists keeping an eye on a family of sea lions. Or seals. Difficult to tell through the telephoto lens. I then took a row out to the other part of the island and scared the nesting birds. It was like a Hitchcock scene with hundreds of circling, squawking birds flying around me. Actually I think I was more scared and realising I was upsetting them I rowed my way back to the anchored boat to dry off.