The one who dances with the seals

Meanwhile, I have recovered from the shock of deleting entire files and the associated new fear of loss. I overcome my inhibitions and dare to touch the keyboard again, which is also intended to serve the therapy of the current trauma and the processing of the damage.

So here it is, Normandy again:

With our own eyes, we experience that the people in Normandy must indeed be descendants of the Viking leader Rollo, with correspondingly thick fur.

For tonight, we find a small parking lot, the access here is very narrow and motorhome drivers are strongly warned that there is no turning option for large vehicles. But there is enough space for the Kangoo, and so we are looking forward to a peaceful and solitary night.

For the sunset, we take a seat in the front row behind the dune on the beach and enjoy the view of the thick rocks, which are scattered artistically in the water. There is still time until the dramatic sinking of the glowing red fireball in the English Channel. With almost every kilometer to the west, the spectacle takes place a few minutes later.

I continue reading a little and Zappa looks into the air again. At some point, I think I hear a loud, voluminous snorting. I look at my fellow traveler. Does he have a problem? So far, I haven't heard such noises from him.

But the second time I see that the sounds must originate between the rocks in the sea. While I ponder who could be responsible for this, after all, we are alone in this place, Zappa claims to have seen a seal. I've seen this before, while I unknowingly read around in strange worlds, Zappa spot dolphins, snakes, and more curious creatures.

So now I stare and behold: what looked like a round black stone in the cold element at first glance turns out to be the head of a seal when you look closely. It wavers with the waves, disappears into the water and reappears elsewhere, making a powerful snort. So I didn't imagine the snorting after all.

We are completely fascinated and distracted by the sunset and spot two more animals.

In the meantime, Monsieur Viking has appeared on the scene. He quickly gets rid of his clothes, grabs snorkel and waterproof camera, and jumps into the icy waters. Apparently, he knows the marine creatures, calls them, plays with them, swims towards them, takes pictures of them, the three of them pose and gladly allow it.

The water is at most 15°C, the air is not much warmer at this time of day, and the seal tamer has been in the freezing waters for more than half an hour without neoprene or other climate protection equipment! That's only possible if Viking blood flows in your veins.

We also go into the English Channel every day, but it's just for a quick refreshing, I can't stand it for longer than a few minutes. The cold bites into my feet and legs, not to mention the rest of my body!

Once again, the sun has sunk into the sea with an impressive display of colors, and it becomes uncomfortable on the beach. Monsieur Viking says goodbye to the seals and to us as well, it's time to crawl into the warm bed.

We now bid farewell to the seals and Normandy. This region has surprised us with its lonely rocky beaches, high cliffs, palm trees, banana plants, fig bushes, and very communicative people. Even though the cold wind makes me shudder again and again, we will probably come back.

Now our path continues to Brittany. Let's see what surprises the Celts have in store for us.