Bag om Weaving of Worlds
The ferry crossing from Fromentine, on the Bay of Biscay, to Île d'Yeu is new to me, and yet the island's coastline appears as if it were a remembered shore. Halfway into the eleven-nautical-mile passage through a lazy swell, a faint blur smudges the horizon. In the wind, sea gulls sway and swoop. The blur stretches slowly into a black line that rises between sky and water to embody the reddish-brown, rocky shelf of the island's east coast.
I am visiting France from Australia this European summer with my wife Monique. Dominique Turbé and his wife also named Dominique Turbé, née Deschamps, whom we have known for many years, now live in the village of Le Temple de Bretagne near Nantes. We are visiting them from Paris with Monique's sister Edith. I suggested a day excursion to the island. Dominique has family links with the old fishing community on the island, and I am mildly curious about the place to which, in 1945, the French state exiled Marshal Pétain, the former President of the Vichy Regime.
The ferry rounds the breakwater and enters the harbour at the capital Port Joinville. A white fleet sits in the water, and, around the harbour, whitewashed stone buildings stand in an arc that is centred on la mairie where the French tri-colour hangs on a pole angled high above the entrance. We disembark and the eye adjusts on a hazy morning to the confined space in the port. Bands and blocks of colour stand out on the white surfaces of the boats and buildings.
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