Terps, borgs and the pink granite coast: The dragon slayer

One of our lovely lazy days was spent visiting the Isle de Batz, a short boat ride from Roscoff. This Isle is famous for its unspoilt character. Its peace and serenity soaks into your bones as you climb the little port street curving around the boat-strewn Baie de Kernoc'h.

In days long past it was not all quiet on the island of Batz. Legend has it that Batz was once beset by a dragon. Luckily a young holy man named Pol, who arrived on the island from the mainland, had miraculously cured several islanders who were deaf, paralysed and mute, so was the obvious choice

Dressed in his full ceremonial regalia and accompanied by a warrior Pol set off to the island's distant shores to slay the dragon. But there was hardly a need. So overcome by Pol's mesmerising presence was the dragon, that he meekly succumbed. And in one version of the tale Pol simply lay his stole around the dragon's bowed neck like a rein, led it to the rocky shore, and ordered him into the foaming seas. He went, never to be seen again.

We found the spot, Trou de Serpent, on the wild west coast where legend has it the dragon disappeared. All around is soft spongy grass, covered in pretty pink flowers, quite idyllic now. Atop the next hill overlooking the sea sits a remote stone hut, moody in its setting, a likely resting place for Pol and his warrior after their legendary tussle with the dragon.

Like Pol we found a quite spot, just under the 19th century lighthouse where we rested our weary bones and ate a memorable Breton crepe luncheon accompanied by delicious cider served in small round ceramic mugs. Utterly delicious and cool.

As the clouds above blew hither and yon, locals, on their hands and knees in their vegetable plot, were pulling potatoes from the ground by hand. Some five hundred folk live on Batz year round and most of these now work the land growing potatoes and cauliflower. Ile de Batz potatoes are sought after and sold at the marche in Paris.

As we wound our way back to the ferry we could see the thousand year old ruins of the Chapelle Ste-Anne silhouetted against the sky in the east, the patron saint of the island's fishermen, for whom a pardon, a pilgrimage, is held here among the ruins, every July.

ts foundations, it is believed, may have been built over the site of the monastery that Pol built after slaying his dragon. Pol found peace here, too, it seems.