Island

Island

I would like to live on an island, I know that I technically do, but what I mean is an island where the boundary and the edge is visible or at least felt at all times. A small spit of land that when viewed at a distance is consumed in its entirety as a rock or island. I like the idea of containment and self sufficiency. I don’t mind other people living on the island, a small community, made bigger by tourists and visitors. It doesn’t need to be tropical either, but sandy beaches are a must.

Today we cycled to Isl Callot, a small island off the coast of Brittany, near Carnetec. Its connected to the mainland at low tide by a causeway. A road that appears and disappears with the tide. At low tide its an easy stroll or bike ride across the sand. To and fro you can go. Then the tide changes, like an inhale of breath and the island is once more complete. Edges drawn on.

The island itself it a perfect spot for an adventure. You can feel the scale of it once you’re on it but you can navigate the whole thing in an hour or two, with a few hidden sand coves and high up vantage points.

This little island, which has become ours for the day makes up a splattering of other rocky shapes and islands along this part of the coast. Each one is crying out to be explored but seem inaccessible in a very special way from each vantage point. I wonder if you lived here long enough you would get to know these islands by their shape. If you would feel the need, like I do to visit them all. Or if by night or season they would shift and move like the boats tied to buoys nearby. So at one with the motion of the landscape that you’d hardly notice the way they dance. I wonder once they are stepped on they become static and known and smaller than before when they lived in your imagination against the ever moving horizon.