Angers - Loire - South of Bretagne (second time's the charm and "water" crossings)

The route is much shorter than Villeneuve-sur-Lot, is again quite flat, passing over Dreux :

Nogent-le-Rotrou with big lakes:

I climbed a little more to fly directly above Le Mans. I could already feel the effects of altitude at FL65 ! But flying directly on top of a big city is a very impressive feeling.

I could even spot the Bugatti circuit (this is a picture of the smaller loop, unfortunately with blurring from the vibrations or possibly from prop air turbulence)

And the town of La Flèche, with other big lakes on the side:

Arriving at Le Mans outside AFIS hours, I only crossed two other aircrafts departing and arriving. LFJR is an actual airport with an aérogare, but fortunately there is an automatic gate with a code that can be opened from the inside. You also normally have to wear a high visibility jacket (but I forgot to bring one…). Like all times for these two trips, I did not contact any of the airfields before heading there, which is the beauty of public air transit, although you can have some surprises !

After I met with my brother, we headed to Angers (the airport is some 30mins away from the city) and walked around in this very quiet, very “provinciale” city. The buildings are not as tall as in bigger cities, yet remain beautiful with ancient and newer stone laying in good harmony. There is a very good crêperie in the center, which we went to before walking more and witnessing a beautiful sunset across the Maine river next to the Angers castle (which sites on top of a cliff directly overhead the river).

We went to do a local tour of the region on Monday, which was a nice conclusion to this short stay in his living environment. The region, although still quite flat (talk about old chestnuts of mine), is very beautiful and sweet. The famous Du Bellay poem goes:
“Heureux qui, comme Ulysse, a fait un beau voyage,
Ou comme cestuy-là qui conquit la toison,
Et puis est retourné, plein d’usage et raison,
Vivre entre ses parents le reste de son âge !

Quand reverrai-je, hélas, de mon petit village
Fumer la cheminée, et en quelle saison
Reverrai-je le clos de ma pauvre maison,
Qui m’est une province, et beaucoup d’avantage ?

Plus me plaît le sejour qu’ont bâti mes aïeux,
Que des palais Romains le front audacieux ;
Plus que le marbre dur me plaît l’ardoise fine,

Plus mon Loire gaulois, que le Tibre latin,
Plus mon petit Liré, que le mont Palatin,
Et plus que l’air marin la doulceur angevine."

Translation:
“Happy he who like Ulysses has returned ?successful from his travels,
Or like he ?who sought the Golden Fleece,
Then returned, ?wise to the world
Live amongst his family to the end of his age!

When shall I see again, alas, of my dear village,
Its chimney smoke, and in which season, ?
Will I see again that little, modest, plot of earth
That is a province to me, and far more than I draw here?

I’m drawn far more to my forefathers home,
Than to a Roman palace fine and proud,
More than hard marble I prefer fine slate:

My gaul Loir I prefer to latin Tiber,
My little Liré I prefer to Palatine,
And to sea air, soft climate Angevine?"

“Angevine” is related to “Anjou” which is the region of Angers. To the East is a natural reserve “Parc naturel régional Loire-Anjou-Touraine” with many dense forests and some tracks that look like they could be amazing by bike. Further to the East, the Loire, separating from the Vienne river, reaches Tours, and enamels its banks of the many famous “châteaux de la Loire”. The Loire is also joined in this area by many smaller rivers that give their names to further up départements, like Mayenne, Sarthe (Le Mans), Loir, and further East, Indre and Cher that join Loire East of Tours, and Creuse that joins Vienne south of Tours.

We followed the Loire on the North bank over the many towns and forests, including Saumur with its military buildings, until we reached the Vienne / Loire separation. Chinon has a nuclear power plant at its North, so a wide arc is required not to overfly it. On the way back, we saw the castle of Chinon (Forteresse Royale de Chinon), famous for the first meeting in 1429 between Johan of Arc and the one who would later become Charles VII, king of France. The river banks, especially at the junction between Vienne and Loire (across Candes-Saint-Martin, which is the homeland of Saint-Martin de Tours and where he passed away in 397), are a very pleasant sight to behold, even more so when heading west toward a Northwest late afternoon sun’s backlight.

We then overflew a very small gap between Angers and its suburb above the Loire, which was barely enough space filled with fields to avoid city overflight rules and allowed us to see his living neighborhood upclose. To close it up, we circled back around Angers, crossing Mayenne and Sarthe rivers, and headed back to the airport.

Unfortunately, I have not retrieved the pictures for this flight yet, but I will be posting them when I get them.

To me the “douceur angevine” (sweeteness of Anjou) is not only about climate but also a way of life. Everyone seems nice, polite, relaxed, and people’s life seems very easy and quiet. I can see how metropolitan townsmen may find it boring after a while, but it’s a breath of fresh air compared to the frantic Parisian rythm.

For the next destination, I briefly considered visiting some family near Saintes (LFXB) but, even though I was authorized to come, the airfield is reserved to administrations until 18:00 local, which is a big constraint on planning and local flights. Instead, I went to visit my older brother who was staying at his parents in law in the South of Bretagne, near Quimperlé (halfway between Quimper and Lorient), with his wife and 3-month old baby. I headed there right after finishing the local Angers flight.

The summer haze was still quite dense, giving the impression that visibility is very low. This is only an illusion, caused by the relative difficulty of estimating the distance of distant blur in the sky, but ground and sky completely fade off after about 15km (roughly). This and the fewer turbulences made for a very quiet, ethereal, “in the clouds” flight among evening lights and far away from the world below. Needless to say I was delighted to savor such a marvelous moment in the world above.

When arriving at Guiscriff (LFES, for some reason no “LFRx” naming even though it’s in the middle of Bretagne with others like LFRN, LFRH, LFRU and many others), this part of South Bretagne struck me with a much denser countryside compared to the North, with much smaller fields and more forests, which is marvelous in the setting sun.

Upon landing I ran into a flock of seagulls that had settled on the runway. I only spotted them in short final, which was a little scary. I wondered if I should do a go around to land on a clear runway, but I was approaching rapidly and the birds were flying away, so I opted to let the fly away and land below them, to avoid crossing their takeoff trajectory. There was no clear direction they were going so avoiding them to either side was not an option. Landing was the right decision, since a bird strike just before landing is not as bad as a bird strike during a go-around. If the prop is damaged, a lack or loss of power may be critical in a go-around, whereas being able to slow down the aircraft even with a little damage is much less uncertain. I slowed down much in order to get them to go away, and was hesitant to put power back in to leave them time to fly away, which means my landing was not the best, firm touchdown with a very low speed. With probably 5-8kt less I think I was in danger of crashing on the threshold and damaging the gear (if not more). Definitely a stressful landing, even though everything ended up all right. The field manager later told me that they regularly had these flocks of seagulls and they have never really been a problem (they just fly away when you land). Most aircrafts flying here are ULs and light aircrafts that can approach around 60kt, which helps.

I landed around 21:10 LT, and noone was around the field. I went to park in the “official” parking spot, but the only way out from there was completely closed. Instead, the real entrance is on the other side of the aerodrome, near the hangars and fuel pump. It’s definitely a case of “not up to date AIP”, the manager explained to me how complicated it is to change a VAC. It only took me a few minutes to figure this out and move the aircraft to the other side, so I won’t complain too much about that. On the correct side, there is little room to park and I had to make do with the side of the taxiway, close to the holding point, in order not to block entrance and transit from the hangars.

It’s a very friendly and relaxed aerodrome, with a skydiving school and a few UL / aircraft clubs. Most of the time there is someone during the day, I actually arrived 5 mins after the manager left. I was very surprised that landing and parking were not free.

For the next part a little bit of background about the Lorient area is in order.

My impression from EuroGA posts from a few years ago is that Lorient LFRH used to be more of a civil airport and now it’s more of a military airport. I considered landing and staying there and I called them before noon, but they said there were two possibilities to land there:

• be invited by the local aeroclub
• have a deal with the aérogare (potentially with some handling, or at least some paperwork involved)

The airport was also reserved for military / state operations from 15:00 to 17:00 LT.

This, plus the potential restrictions to enter on foot or by car turned me away from going there.

As for the airspace, it’s quite complex as well:

• there is a P zone right above the airport, which always active, and the said priori authorization to land is required in order to enter it
• there is a temporary R zone in a 5nm radius around the airport (which can only be activated if the CTR and TMA are inactive)
• there is a CTR that can be activated anytime with 15min prior notice (up to 2,500ft, reaching about half way to Quimper)
• there is a TMA that can be activated in the same way (15min prior notice)
• there is a SIV (FIS) that is fortunately wider than the CTR and TMA, that can give you the activation state of the zones.

IME the FIS (Iroise) is not as diligent to give you the activation and hand you over than in other parts where they always notice everyone (depending on their track) of potentially conflicting zones. This can create some confusion since in some cases you can expect FIS to warn you by default (therefore you don’t need to ask for the many R zones you cross), and in others you need to explicitly ask them. Fortunately most zones are NOTAM activated but it can be annoying to keep track during flight of which ones are NOTAM activated (therefore you should already know if they are active or not) and which are activatable 24/7. This is definitely a case where my initial preparation for Carpentras was better (if a little overkill) since I wrote down on a piece of paper all of the zones that I crossed, and reproduced the info on my paper chart in order to easily anticipate. With less time to prepare and more touristic flights, things were not so tightly prepared for the next few flights. On the return flight I even specifically asked for activation status of R zones in the area, to which FIS responded “which zone? there are many R zones…” and I specified a few ones that I was about to cross and got no response.

It’s also a bit of a mess of frequencies, and the best course of action is IMO to get the first FIS possible outside of restricted zones to give you as much information as possible, confirm the exact zone status, explicitly ask for handover and note the frequency down. They have no obligation to tell you if you’re about to enter a restricted zone or an active CTR. Although this makes sense from the letter of the law, it’s still disappointing coming from a FIS IMO. It’s very different from other parts of France where FIS clears you to enter a TMA on FIS frequency (which is illegal in theory), because it’s the same person and the same radar screen – and also, as I wrote above, warn you as soon as they can of any active zone on your path. Here, Lorient CTR and R/P zones are handled by the military (at least as far as I could witness), so the FIS has to hand you over to them.

I offered to my brother and sister-in-law to do some local flights along the coast. We settled for the Groix island, because it could be crossed at gliding distance from the shore and could be used as emergency landing (eliminating the need for a ditching), since I had no life vest to do a proper water crossing. As I only have one passenger seat, I had to take them one at a time. I also organized to do a low flight over their house close to the coast (next to a river famous for its brackish water oysters, le Belon) on the way back.

For the first flight I take my sister-in-law to Groix, and back to the shore. The first FIS tells me that the CTR is inactive, but the next frequency has info for the big R zone. I’m not exactly sure what the next frequency was, normally the FIS frequency should have been the same, but I was handed over anyway to some kind of FIS (potentially operated by Lorient). The handover goes fine, and I get no more information about the status of the R zone, which makes me conclude that it’s not active (or I will get called back later). Big mistake ! A few hundred meters before entering the zone, FIS calls me back telling me to avoid entering the zone by turning right. I acknowledge and immediately turn right, avoiding the zone by less than 100m (by my estimation). I then had to climb much higher to be in gliding distance of the coast because I had to circle around the zone where the closest point between Groix and Lorient is.

This is just before the fateful limit, with the R zone centered to the left (Lorient) and extending about in the direction of the right end of Groix island (in the back). You can see how the water crossing is much longer when avoiding the zone is required.

Fortunately, the rest of the trip goes fine. During the crossing, I easily maintained gliding distance (actually, twice the gliding distance) using the wing as an estimator.

The island of Groix:

The very rare convex beach, reaching outside instead of sinking inside the land:

Back to the shore, the Belon river and its oyster farms:

During this time, my brother who was staying around the airfield waiting and doing some errands, actually talked to the field manager and mentioned that we could not go to Glénan because we had no life vests, so had to settle for Groix. By himself, he offered to lend us some of his life vests for the flight. So the second flight could be done to Glénan instead, with this time a proper water crossing ! It’s no ocean crossing (only about 10km above the water), but still, no longer in gliding distance, ditching as a possibility, mandatory flight plan and life vests.

Crossing water very low is completely different from flying over land. The notion of ground distance fades, and you feel like you’re above an immeasurable immensity.

Reaching the Glenan islands, which are a sort of local bahamas, with turquoise water and shallow sandy beaches.

The Glenan islands, despite being very small patches of land, host one of the most famous boat schools in France. It has become even more famous lately, and they expanded the number of anchorage points, which explains the sheer number of boats stationed there.

This beach really made me want to go swimming there:

The water really has carribean vibes.

And back above the Belon before heading back to Guiscriff (thankfully this picture was taken out the window, it’s better-looking…):

This time again, FIS did not give me any information about the Lorient CTR. I called them about 2 minutes before entering just to be safe, and (who could’ve guessed?) the CTR had become active since then… The ways of Lorient are mysterious ! Inactive CTR at 17:0x (despite airport activity and active R zone, reserved slot 15-17) and active after 19:00. Again FIS failed to give me the relevant info and to hand me over, I initiated the handover. The military controller was also displeasant, making me repeat several times all of the elements, because I did not give all of them in one go. I later understood a potential reason, which is that, despite asking FIS, my flight plan was never activated. I only gave a few details since I knew all the rest was in the flight plan, and the controller made me repeat potentially because he did not have it (since it never got activated). Geez, I’m not projecting a good image of Iroise SIV… Well maybe it’s a little deserved. What good is a flight plan over water if it’s not been activated ? You could also say that you should wait for confirmation that the flight plan was activated, but the return journey proved that giving you confirmation of flight plan activation is not standard nor expected everywhere (a subsequent FIS told me “if you asked for activation with Iroise SIV, it should be open no problem” – I abstained from further comment but was very tempted given the experience the day before).

It seems to me that it’s a constant battle between the letter of the law, customary use which varies, explicit verification and handling of unexpected situations. I don’t find this displeasant (it keeps things interesting and it keeps the pilot focused on what’s important), but some services could surely use a little improvement.

For the return journey, weather was not looking good. There was a vast area of relatively low pressures, with highly unstable predictions. Different models didn’t remotely agree with one another. Thunderstorms were visibly on the menu, which means extra caution had to be taken.

I waited in the morning to see how things turned out, because actual conditions are very hard to evaluate when predictions are so unstable. Storms had hit Paris in the early morning, and another wave of storms were moving North-East from Nantes, so they could end up right on my route. Eventually, satellite images showed a wide corridor of almost cloud-free sky, which is the window I used to come back. Like always, avoid CBs and TCUs from afar requires you to be able to see them. And in case they were at my destination or imposed too big of a detour en-route, I would land somewhere in the middle and wait for them to pass.

The same South Bretagne landscape in a different lighting condition:

I flew some distance away from the Mont Saint Michel bay (it’s barely visible, but you can make out the dark island surrounded by water):

Isolated CUs (almost TCUs in some places) were making it a fairly bumpy ride, even at 3,000ft+ where it’s normally quieter. I had to circle around a few of them just to avoid turbulence.

A magnificent CB was lurking around Deauville, seen here under different angles:

And the rest is history. Olympics restrictions, squawk to make the military surveillance happy, and an ID verification after landing. I wasn’t too bothered because I returned the aircraft late, since weather was the main thing that held me back (I actually thought I was going to get stranded for several days).

Another incredible trip concludes, and I feel again very grateful for the continued experience that these trips are slowly teaching me, and for all the ethereal and stolen moments, the diversity of places, sharing flying with family members, and for the numerous beautiful landscapes that I had the chance to see.

I apologize for the quality of the pictures (among others, many canopy reflections, blurring, very uneven colors between pictures, etc.). I have not taken enough time yet to do a good setup to take pictures with an actual camera (and out the window). Not only the setup inside the cockpit must be right, but some amount of planning for the flight itself is required in order to have good shots, which I will get to in the future.