Issue No. 23

Marie had allowed the time it would take to
walk out to our hunting ground so we’d
arrive about an hour before marée basse
(low tide). So had what seemed like the
entire population of nearby Saint-Pol-de-
Léon. There were people everywhere along
the vast sweep of beach; dogs, push-chairs,
families, singles, couples, all searching for
the same elusive treasure as us…like a
Lowry painting without the grime, factories,
tenements, and clogs, but you get my point.
Our expert set off purposefully, skirting the
coast and branching out towards rocks
normally submerged, but now exposed by
the sea’s retreat. She showed us how to
scrape the sand with our rakes to turn up
shells just below the surface, “Bon.
Quelques coques” (Good. Some cockles)
and showed us how to swill out the sand
and mud with seawater to separate our
catch.
We turned up different shells and paused
while Marie identified them: palourde –
grooved carpet shell clam; bigorneau –
winkles; amande de mer – dog cockle;
praire – saltwater clam (aka Warty Venus!);
lavagnon – peppery furrow shell clam; bulot
- whelk. Lots of clams but each subtly
different. Small ones were returned to the
sand, fatter examples kept. Such is the
popularity of Pêche à Pieds that strict
regulations are in place regarding what and
how much can be taken and when.
Information, pocket guides, notice boards,
and online sites are readily available, so no
excuse for pleading ignorance if the
Gendarmes Maritime nab you. Fines of
several thousand euros have recently been
levied in Finistère.
I’d had my head down so when Marie said
“Viens. Il est temps de revenir” it was a
shock to see the tide coming in. (If you go
without a guide, remember to set your
phone alarm to allow plenty of time before
the tide turns to get back to safety).
Back on shore we took stock of our
buckets. Lots of clams, a mound of winkles,
and whelks. A pretty good harvest for three
hours work. But Marie wasn’t content,
“Demain, couteau et huîtres” she said
firmly. (Tomorrow, razor clams and oysters.)
We talked as Marie dealt with the catch:
“We relied on fish to live when I was young”
she told me as she changed the water in
the buckets an hour after our return,
mimicking the tide.