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Rum, women and kids name of God


Back after a short week, last week's holiday, as it is late September because eggs!

I left for a ride on a catamaran in the Gulf of Morbihan, with a fine team composed mostly of children under 5 years and some haggard adult trying to explain that playing in the sun 1,2,3 port or run with a rope around his neck that makes him too much.

Fortunately, the night we drank red.

Chance incredible, it made a wonderful time all week. More fun when you live to 10 in 20m2 is clear! There was even a day when a little agitated when everyone was struggling, the glassy eye and teeth clenched, while the cassoulet from noon attempting to regain his freedom ... But go to sea, it is also taking risks (credit Chuck Norris).

So we crossed the Atlantic aboard our boat between the islands of Hoedic, Houat, and Belle-Ile. Pif paf pouf

photo explanatory. FYI reminds me that Britain is in the top left. France.

Travelling by boat, it can go explore unexpected corners, anchor (haha, me too it makes me laugh) in small coves inaccessible.

I must say that I never expected not that ... Truly wild places preserved, gorgeous beaches that have nothing to envy to Australia.

Small flat on the local population still downright unfriendly. And believe me I'm in Paris, I not place the bar super high. Special Mention

so residents of Belle-Ile en Mer, renamed Connards-en-Mer. Too hard for them to live in a paradise, we must still agree to share it with big redneck tourists. Fortunately, they have made it clear we were not welcome, thanks particularly subtle ploys: do not answer, do not smile, raising his eyes to heaven and sighing when one enters their restaurant EMPTY 19h with kids. And even better if we can take to make us pay 15 balls a crepe with whipped icky spray. Obviously we like tourists in Britain when they raquent, they make no noise and they left after 17h. Big up to

Houat however, tiny unspoilt island of cars, with people over almost cool. Small footpaths, melancholy landscapes and charming shacks. I loved it! And here

The Boat. His name? Cocaline. I think I hesitated between owner and Exctamy Meroïne before deciding. Finally, the fact is that has not been checked by customs and it's a little miracle.

Oh Captain My Captain. Our skipper Benjamin, with his aide Baptist.

The first to guess the exact age of the master tube mytosil wins and 3 numbers Tralalire!

"What was the best of life on the boat the children?"
"The trampoliiiiiiiiiiiiiine!"
You astonish me.

On a boat, we made jokes what a. A bowline or a window is enough! Louise seem to appreciate anyway.

Cousin Celine, with, in order of appearance (on Earth), Camille Baptiste, and Louise.

Camille and Lubin.


Nancy Roc and Jean look away and talk about gulls. No doubt these are real sailors.


1, 2, 3, 4 and .... 5 dwarves! That account is good! Leander, our junior sailor.

This is all so picturesque is not it?


Kids


Louisette

His dad skipper bordering the coast to starboard or something like

is our boat at the bottom right!


Petit family portrait for Nancy, John Rock, and Leander Lubin

PS: thank you thank you again to all the protagonists in these great holiday !
PPS in an upcoming issue I will elaborate on the theme: living 20m2 with 5 dwarfs in the extreme experience!