In the end Plogoff was quiet and cute and was a worthwhile oceanside detour. Unfortunately we had a hard time leaving, and by that I mean we stopped a lot on our way out of town.
We were up early! We had all day! So 4 minutes after leaving the hotel, we first drove past and then turned back and stopped at this biscuiterie, mostly because this looked like a good photo op:
But also because we were leaving Bretagne and Agent Nelson still hadn't officially tasted a kouign amann. So, even though it was 100% a tourist trap we went in and I made Nelson spend €10 on something that had no right being any good.
Luckily, and that's an understatement, it was terrific, like the ultimate chocolate croissant plus crunchy salted caramel. I really really wish there was a way for one to survive the next week in 100 degree temperatures so i could shower Amsterdam with crunchy buttery caramel love.
I also wanted to stop at a real grocery store while we were still in Bretagne so I could pick up some of this seaweed tapenade, even though Nelson prefers not to eat anything that even reminds her of the ocean. Sometimes it's all about me me me.
By this time, unbeknownst to us, our travel logistics for the day were already fucked. It was the 2nd Samedi Noir of the summer, and we were heading to an island. As Bill Bryson likes to say, "if you want to get there by dinnertime tonight, you should've left by.....let's see.....last Wednesday."
After hitting the grocery store, we got in the car again and then also hit a local Saturday market, while still in the car. Guess our onboard nav system doesn't know about that shit.
So, roads were blocked off, detours everywhere, the town was crowded, and there was a bit of a 3 mile traffic jam because of a single traffic light. It was all very cute! This scene would replay itself throughout the day, alternating with sitting still on the highway, long stretches of empty ghost towns with 15mph speed limits or a big slow RV in front of us.
In short: it took us 7 hours to get to Noirmoutier. OK, but this is our last day to Give France a Chance, commmme onnnn...
Well, I must say, the campsite seemed beautiful. OK the ocean wasn't really an ocean, it was a waveless bay, but cute! The showers were free! Setting up the tent took 15 minutes, and the new air mattresses were even comfortable. Optimism!
We made dinner reservations at the terrace/snack bar, a kind of odd concept but yis, imagine if your local campground shoarma tent sold shrimp duck and mussels.
Nelson had another contender for "best vegetarian meal in France", which was of course, pizza. I myself had duck breast in port sauce because I kill things, plus the previous night's oysters had called into question the wisdom of eating seafood under less than optimal circumstances. Also because I could order duck at a campsite.
I fell asleep at about 11 to the sounds of salsa music from the moules frites place that was 50 meters away. I woke to the unmistakable sounds of fireworks and "hilarity". The fireworks sounded like they were going off right over the tent. The hilarity sounded like it was happening 10 feet away. The fireworks stopped some time in the night but the hilarity then relocated to the beach just on the other side of our tent, and was going on every time I woke up throughout the night, and was still going on at 6:45 am when we decided to say fuck France and pack up and go.
Thus today we are on our last enormous drive we hope, trying to get to San Sebastián by 5pm.