Klippen-Camping

Following the report about our adventure with the local gendarmerie, we received information from attentive readers that refugee smuggler gangs from Germany are being supplied with open rubber boats that carry 60 people, life jackets, and other equipment. The inspection of our hideout could have been triggered by suspicion that such materials were being delivered to the French coast.

That may be true because at the beach in Dannes, we witnessed a major operation by the local authorities. Firefighters, rescue services, helicopters, divers, speed boats, and a search and rescue ship are bringing a large black rubber boat ashore.
This is happening about a kilometer away. We head in the opposite direction as we do not want to gawk or, worse, be in the way.

However, here too we find clothes strewn across the sand. Pants, t-shirts, shoes, obviously left behind from a intercepted smuggling boat on the beach.
France has concluded an agreement with the United Kingdom to prevent the crossing of refugees across the English Channel. It is terrible what happens to the people around Calais who are waiting in the woods for their costly smugglers, and in the worst case, drowning during the crossing and never reaching their destination.

Now we are in Brittany and the heat wave has also arrived here. We postpone our planned exploration tours through the villages and towns to the early morning hours, and eventually, we skip those too. At nearly 40°C, strolls between heated stone houses cannot compare to relaxation on wind-cooled beaches. The days get longer with each kilometer heading west, and the sunsets become more colorful.

The overnight spots are somewhat fiercely contested. We arrive in time at a parking spot with a spectacular view and snatch a gap in the front row.
A cool breeze blows during dinner and the gathered camping community is pleased.

The respectable French couple next to us sets up for an aperitif in front of their oversized luxury RV and makes me a bit envious with ice-cold drinks from their air-conditioned vehicle.
While we manage well with our 'refrigerator'. Eggs, cheese, ham, and soda are well-protected from thieves and are placed in the damp grass overnight, where they are nicely chilled by morning. Everything is then wrapped in thick layers of blankets; several layers of down insulate excellently.
But an ice-cold rosé in a glass, with condensed moisture dripping onto the hot asphalt, creates an irresistible impression in these temperatures.

The Pössl campers arrive too late and have to settle for a spot in the second row. I suspect the two ladies from Rennes are a same-sex couple. Zappa argues they must be sisters. Admittedly, the gray short haircuts resemble each other like two peas in a pod, but the legs have very different lengths and shapes.

Interesting is the couple to our left who are traveling with two station wagons.
She has full-body tattoos, and we assume she is a vegan, autonomous anti-fascist from Heidelberg camping with her black, grumpy-looking dog in a black Peugeot.
He makes coffee for her, sports a hipster beard and a colorful tattoo on his shoulder, and judging by the license plate, he is Breton from this area, traveling in a white Dacia without any pets or hair.

We discuss several possibilities: either they met on an online platform and are testing their basics here.
Or they met at the last campsite, found each other likable and will never part.
Or he is simply offering her his services as a coffee maker on this romantic rock.

We will never know, for now Monsieur Rumpelkiste is squeezing into the little space between us, blocking every view. After he gets out, expresses his joy about the fresh breeze to everyone, and is snubbed by the distinguished luxury couple, he sits down in his rickety RV, closes the shutters, and stares at his phone for the rest of the evening. I can see it clearly!

We take a walk in the cool evening hours and then crawl into our hideout. Tomorrow will be another hot day, and there are still countless beautiful places ahead of us.