"Schnuggi, do we have a magnet?" Kuno asks on this lovely Thursday morning as we are getting ready to start our daily canal odyssey through Brittany. I continue to brush my teeth, pondering the question. Or, more precisely, the reason for the question. It doesn't take long to figure out that we have a problem on hand as Kuno sheepishly explains that he dropped the keys overboard. Generally a very bad move. We have two sets of keys on board and this bundle includes the engine key and the safe key containing our passports and money. They are now apparently very safe! While Kuno contemplates taking apart the boat speakers to get a magnet, it is clear to me that this is a folly and instead he needs to jump into the canal and find them before other boats start buzzing by. So in he goes. Now you need to understand that these canals are not intended for swimming, the water is murky and its best not to think about what floats there considering the boat traffic. However, as my mom used to say, there is a punishment for every act of stupidity, and Kuno reluctantly dives. After about 10 minutes, against the odds, he victoriously pulls out the bundle of errant keys and following a long hot shower, we can finally continue on our journey toward the historic towns of Malestroit and Josselin in Brittany.
We chose Brittany as our cruising ground for this year after pouring through brochures and websites, hoping for a rich history and beautiful nature. It was difficult for us to trade the option of Mediterranean sailing for a landlubber kind of boating, but Brittany, so far, did not disappoint. Proud to be different than the rest of France in heritage and attitudes (as pointed out to us but also observed), we are enjoying friendliness and hospitality that we have not encountered in other parts of France. Castles, old towns, rural bike routes, sun, cheese, baguette and fruit pies make a perfect vacation in our books. And now we discovered a local speciality, apple cider, and have added a bottle or two of this lovely beverage to our daily consumption to complete the happiness. Its rich yellow color and sweet, mildly alcoholic taste goes refreshingly well with the meandering rivers and canals that pass on the side of our boat, as we progress from Messac on the river Vilaine, through the Nantes-Brest canal to the medieval castle town of Josselin where we turn around and continue to other parts of the area. But not before we explore by bike what lies beyond, an "up and down" lock staircase over a mountain connecting two watersheds. Having two weeks gives us a luxury of time to stop and stay wherever we like it, not following a particular plan (gasp!). Yes, even I can do that occasionally.
Our days unfold slowly, but that is not to say they are without action. In fact, I am having tough time progressing through my book despite the fact that I like it very much. In the mornings, Kuno searches nearby villages ostensibly to get a fresh baguette for breakfast, but invariably comes back with all sorts of other goodies that he just couldn't resist. I suspect that sometimes there are also goodies that he bought but that never made it back to the boat, surely needed for Kuno's refreshment during the strenuous search of boulangeries. We generally spend a few hours on the boat going to the next destination and then hop on the bikes and explore the countryside, never forgetting to sample any patisserie that comes our way. 
Perhaps the part that I enjoy the most are the castles along the way and the picturesque old villages and towns. They are all very well maintained, and houses in the old towns are either made from rock or timber with slate roofs. The oldest one we saw was from early 1500's and other than being crooked so that the newly installed windows did not align with the originally vertical timber, it was just fine. And lived in.
We have concluded that the hierarchy of amenities to be found in a village is as follows (you will find more of this sequence with increase in the size of the village): Church or two, followed by at least two bars, a hairdresser or two, and only then a boulangerie and maybe if one is lucky a boucherie. A grocery store is way, way down the list and so we live on bread, cheese, pate and deserts. Occasionally we find a town market in progress and stock up on fruit and veggies. The local specialty seems to be something called a galette - it looks like crepe, but it is made from buckwheat flower filled with a selection of savoury or sweet stuff. It makes for a wonderful lunch.
It is harvest time in Brittany and as we bike through the countryside, it reminds me of the sounds and smells of my childhood; the hay, the cows, the summer rain, the river weir,... It dawns on me that these would not be the same smells that Tatiana would have in her memory and makes me ponder how different her childhood had been than mine. I wonder if hers would be ocean waves and salty wind. She is now happily at Cambridge, just finishing a week of leadership training and starting two weeks of law. As usual when she is happy, her texts to us are minimalistic and that means all is well.
