Baywatch, Bunkers & Bug Spray: Our Wild Week at Camping De L’Aber

If you've ever dreamed of camping somewhere that offers jaw-dropping views, ancient monoliths, Nazi bunkers, and a till alarm that thinks you’re a criminal then buckle up, because Camping De Lac Aber delivered all that and more. Nestled on the Crozon Peninsula in Brittany, this coastal gem gave us history, hilarity, and hamstrings of steel.

We spent a lot of time just staring at the horizon, wondering if we could bottle the view and sell it as Eau de Coastal Bliss.

Adventures on Foot, Wheel and Sand

We kicked things off with a walk to the lime kiln, which "spoiler alert” did not involve cocktails. It's a stoic little structure that once helped turn limestone into something useful, now standing like a chimney that's retired but still proud.

Then came the cycling. We pedalled down to the local beach, wind in our hair, bugs in our teeth, and a growing suspicion that our thighs were plotting revenge. The beach was worth every wheeze: soft sands, crashing waves, and the kind of peace that makes you forget you're wearing socks with sandals.

We also wandered through sand dunes that felt like nature's version of a funhouse. Every step was a gamble, every dune a surprise. It was like hiking through a giant, sandy croissant flaky, unpredictable, and oddly satisfying.

And then, like true adventurers, we sought out the holy grail of all post-hike rewards: a cold beer. We found a local spot that looked promising, the campsite itself (where else) tables outside, locals chatting, and a drinks menu that didn't require Google Translate. We ordered two beers and sat back, basking in the glory of our own athleticism.

The first sip was divine. The second sip was interrupted by a wasp doing aerial reconnaissance on my Grimbergen (a blond what else). The third sip was accompanied by Trish declaring, This is the best beer I've ever had, while smelling faintly of insect repellent (jungle formula no less).

We toasted to our survival, our sore legs, and the fact that we hadn't accidentally ordered fermented goat milk. Victory tasted like hops and freedom.

Bunkers & Monoliths: History with a Side of Goosebumps

One of the more sobering stops was the Nazi Atlantic Wall, a grim reminder of WWII that now sits quietly, slowly being reclaimed by moss and graffiti artists with questionable spelling. It's eerie, fascinating, and makes you appreciate the peace that surrounds it today.

Then there's Pointe du Menhir, the ancient monolith that looks like it was dropped there by a forgetful druid. It's been standing for thousands of years, watching over the bay like a stone-faced lifeguard. We tried to hug it. It did not reciprocate.

Crozon Beach: Small but Mighty

We drove to Crozon Beach for lunch, expecting a sweeping coastline. What we got was adorable. The beach was so small we almost missed it while looking for parking. But the cliffside restaurant? Absolute perfection. We ate overlooking the bay, pretending we were in a French rom-com minus the drama, plus a lot of sand in our shoes.

We walked around the beach afterward, marvelling at how compact it was. It's the kind of beach that says, I may be small, but I'm photogenic.

Shopping Shenanigans: Bug Spray and Baguettes

No camping trip is complete without a heroic grocery run. We ventured into the local shop with noble intentions: stock up on food and find something, anything, to stop the relentless itching from insect bites that had turned us into human scratch cards.

The shop had everything from fresh baguettes to tins with labels that looked like they'd been designed by surrealist poets. But alas, no pharmacy. No creams. No relief.

Enter Trish, our fearless negotiator. She struck up a conversation with a friendly tourist from Leon who spoke excellent English (a rare gem in our quest for anti-itch salvation). She asked if he could kindly ask the lady at the till where the nearest pharmacy was.

Simple enough, right?

Well, not quite.

In the excitement of trying to help, the lady at the till mistook Trish's urgency for a full-blown medical emergency. As Trish leaned a little too close to the exit gate perhaps to mime the universal sign for itchy arm, the till alarm went off like we'd just tried to smuggle out a wheel of brie under our jackets.

Cue flashing lights, startled shoppers, and Trish standing frozen like a deer in the headlights, holding a packet of biscuits and looking like she'd just hacked the Pentagon.

Thankfully, no one was arrested, and the man kindly pointed us toward the nearest pharmacy. We left the shop with snacks, a story, and a newfound respect for French retail security systems.

The Great Gale: Awning vs. Wind, Round One

Just when we thought we'd mastered the art of coastal camping, Mother Nature decided to test our commitment with a howling 45mph storm that turned our peaceful pitch into a scene from “Twister: The Campervan Chronicles.

It started innocently enough. A gentle breeze. A few rustling leaves. Trish said, oh, refreshing. Five minutes later, the awning was flapping like it was trying to take off for Paris, and the van was rocking so hard we considered checking if it had developed sea legs.

Inside, it felt like we were in a budget simulator ride called Experience the Storm, now with Extra Flapping! Every gust of wind came with a new sound effect creaks, groans, and the occasional is that the kettle flying?

I was outside in full storm-wrangler mode, holding onto the canvas like a sailor clinging to a mainsail, shouting It's fine! I've got it! While the wind tried to turn me into a human windsock.

Eventually, the storm passed probably bored of us and left behind a trail of damp socks, heroic tales, and one very confused moth who'd taken shelter under our folding chair.

Final Thoughts: Would We Go Back?

Absolutely. Camping De L Aber gave us history, hilarity, and hamstrings of steel. It's the kind of place where you can walk through centuries, cycle into serenity, and stare at the sea until your soul feels exfoliated.

If you're looking for a camping trip that's equal parts adventure and absurdity, pack your bags, bring your bike, and prepare to fall in love with the bay, the bunkers, and maybe even a monolith.