The end of the world shows itself here in its best light. The sea is oil and on the shore, bathed in the morning mists, gleam the gray stone houses of Le Conquet, in this Breton department of Finistère. The end of the earth, the “end of the world”, this is how the Romans once baptized this region in the northwest of France. To the west stretches the Atlantic. With its monster tides: in the space of a few hours, the sea rises and falls here by about ten meters. A wild vision. Even if, that day, you don’t really realize it when you make the crossing to Ouessant. The sky is blue, we hardly have the impression of being at the end of the world.
No doubt it would be different in the rain or the storm. “You’re lucky with the weather”explains my table neighbor in the evening, at dinner, in Lampaul, the small capital of the island of Ouessant. “Normally, the weather is not so nice here.” What ? No walks in the broom moors with golden reflections, on the cliffs, then? Yes, but with a raincoat. Perhaps the island’s cromlech, which has been estimated to be between 4,000 and 6,000 years old, would look even more mysterious in the rain. Why were these stones erected here, on the Atlantic, on this thankless island of just 15 square kilometers which could only support a few sheep? There seem to be as many hypotheses on this subject as there are cromlechs, dolmens, alignments of menhirs or oysters in Brittany.
Thanks to the cromlech, we at least know that Ouessant has been inhabited by man for millennia. Those who lived or who still live here – there are only around 800 souls left – have visibly learned to deal with the wind, the weather, the austerity of the place. For centuries, they have lived off fishing and the topography of their island which has led many ships to come and finish their race here, against the fala