Showing posts with label 23 lost-pic le héaux-de-bréhat les-sept-îles et al. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 23 lost-pic le héaux-de-bréhat les-sept-îles et al. Show all posts

26.1.20

lost-pic, le héaux-de-bréhat, les-sept-îles et al

Also Erquy, Rosédo, La Croix, Kerjean… there are many others too…

Lunch at Erquy is a pleasant interlude (after Cap Fréhel, for instance) especially if you are looking out of the fishing harbour towards the wee pier light [shown left] and the weather is warm enough and the tourist totals are not high…

Without benefit of kayak or motorboat, helicopter, a bottomless purse – one is unlikely to be able to score all the phares and feux that pepper the Côtes d'Armor coastline. You'd need to be there for quite a while (a pleasant prospect) and keep your eyes peeled, undertake some research and planning with map and guides. The land and sea scapes are wonderful, the distant views of cherished objectives, tantalising. There is a lot to see and frustratingly for us, a lot beyond immediate reach.

So it was for the title phares of this post: we got only distant views to whet our appetites for more. I shall not trouble you with the very minor feux we did find while exploring this region but instead focus on those that JBH has paid attention to.

As elsewhere, many of these establishments are reconstructions or renovations of structures vandalised by war and in some cases now being vandalised again, by time and neglect from the authorities who seemingly forget that these lighthouses are an important part of France's coastal heritage. The Lighthouse Directory Côtes d'Armor  covers this group with supporting photographs so you'll need to go there to see the ones I can't include here…



Lost-pic is typical of many of the lights one encounters on this north east facing side of the Côtes d'Armor shores: many of them are built in pink granite, partially painted white and crenelated. All but one of these phares and feux were bashed over the head by the occupying forces in ww2 but the restorations have been sympathetic and characterful. I like them. I like the inclusion of the name in most cases so that one can be sure one is looking at a feu and not someone's garden folly.  Here is the same picture as above but some years (this year in fact, 2026, February) closer to now:





Les Héaux de Bréhat was seriously damaged in 1944. Another of the French giants, this lighthouse took years to build on almost submerged rocks and has been automated since 1981, faithfully restored to the way it was before ww2. Automated means it is controlled from afar, no one lives in it anymore. But you see my problem: so far out! My telephoto was of very modest range when I took this snap, but what one really needs is a boat… This phare featured in the film A Very Long Engagement with Audrey Tatou.

My, I'd like to climb this one! It is beautifully situated in a maze of granite boulder-islets. 187 feet high, occulting, red white or green depending on direction seen, three times every 12 seconds (that's on off on off on off for twelve seconds then on off on off on off  … and so on… I think). I took another stab at snapping Bréhat again in February 2026 but from even further south, over five miles away (ignore the assertion of distance on the montage it was a guesstimate). Still not got to this one as yet. And it is one of the best.






La Croix
sits in the mouth of the Trieux river: this river must sport more feux than any other in France! All minor but important in their own way: there are at least two significant lights (Paon and Rosedo) coming into this river anchorage before you pass La Croix, which is an occulting light, white every four seconds. No lantern you'll note. The rather dark JBH illustration shows the side one sees on the approach from the sea. The French often paint only the seaward side of their towers, it can be confusing. My view here is the nearest you can get to La Croix on land. It was once 'keepered' but is now automatic.

The 2026 views I now include herewith were gained from the right bank of the Trieux river.






Les Sept îles sits out there on the largest of the islands of the same name, out of reach entirely as the island is a national bird reserve and visitors are strictly limited if allowed at all. You will notice that we are now round on to the north facing coast of the Côtes d'Armor where the granite gets even more startling. Three white flashes every fifteen seconds, this one and it is wind powered! Respect. Rebuilt after ww2 of course…

I have to return to the Trieux river though, but shall do so on a separate post (Bodic & Perdrix; Triagoz & Beg Leger), because my dears, Bodic, arguably the most whacky light of them all, deserves it; tis a family favourite: why, I have a model of it even!


Mean-Ruz-Ploumanac'h
sits on the lovely 'pink' granite of which it made, reached by a footbridge and a popular spot with yer coastal tourist coves. An entirely different design to the tower it replaced, occulting red or white depending on your situation, every four seconds. Apparently the lamp counts as a lantern, albeit rather slim, not one you could get inside of.

Here endeth the first post on the Côtes d'Armor, apologies to all those simply left on the side. Sorry Rosédo, apologies Kerjean (a number of towers attached to keepers' cottages look like Kerjean …)
And further humbleness over my failure to hyphenate correctly here and there and miss off the pesky french acute accents all over the place. I do try, but apparently NOT HARD ENOUGH!

Illustrations by Jean Benoît Héron: as indicated above, Triagoz and Bodic are to follow.