Like yesterday, today will be a day outdoors. And today we have again decided to go for a hike. We’re heading to the western end of Finistère to Pointe Saint-Mathieu. It’s simultaneously a memorial for all deceased Breton sailors and the site of an old monastery ruin and a lighthouse. A very popular destination, as it turns out.

On the drive there, we’re accompanied by dense drizzle that almost makes us turn back. But we stick to our original plan, which we won’t regret. Already during the drive, the sky clears up and by the time we arrive, it’s blue and cloudless.

We start from the full parking lot directly in front of the monastery in a southeastern direction, always following the GR34 along the coast. The path leads us along rugged and steep cliffs. Some are extended by stone walls that were once ramps from which algae were hoisted up.

It’s beautiful here. The sun is shining and it’s warm. The sea sparkles from the sunrays. The GR34 runs directly along the coast. Sometimes so close to the edge that it makes me uneasy. After about three kilometers, we turn inland. But we’re never far from the ocean, which always remains in sight.

It’s breathtakingly beautiful to walk along narrow, barely traveled country roads. Around us vast green fields that reach to the horizon and seem to plunge into the sea. Here and there a few buildings – farms. In the distance, the roofs of a settlement. Otherwise, an area devoid of people.

After another three kilometers, we reach Lochrist, where we make a detour to the small chapel at the cemetery – Cimetière de Le Conquet. A place of absolute silence, which I thoroughly enjoy. From there, we walk down the only wide road to the sea. And then we turn again onto the GR34, which leads us back to the monastery and the parking lot.

I’ve been having very severe back pain for a few days, which accompanies me on this hike and becomes unbearable from Lochrist onward. I have to sit down or kneel repeatedly before I can continue. I also can’t feel my legs anymore and feel exhausted. This last part becomes torture.

She suggests stopping at Ruscumunoc and spending some time at the beach – Plage des Charrettes – where we were yesterday and which we liked so much. At first, I don’t think much of it, as I’m so plagued by pain. But later at the car, a reason occurs to me. We are here now. Maybe we’ll never come back here, and who knows what tomorrow will bring. Life is here and now.

And so we are in a short time at this beautiful beach, where we spend the next two hours watching the sea perform its magical spectacle of incoming waves. First right at the front on the rocks, where the waves crash against them and fly into the air in millions of tiny water droplets. Later, as the water comes closer, we stand or sit on the warm white sand and stare at the sea. It’s a meditation with the waves. Here my pain disappears, at least for the time we are there. But it also awakens in me the desire to live near such a place. A beautiful weekend comes to an end here.