On Sheepdogs, Semaphores and Sea-Saviors
Musings from an island off the coast of France
As I wind down my adventurous summer – which started with a wild e-biking excursion in Armenia, got punctuated with a paragliding float over Annecy lake, and enfolded me in the spacious comfort of sisters both genetic and spiritual – I now find myself keeping company with a couple of Australian sheepdogs on the windswept and rugged island of Ile Molene (about which I wrote in an earlier Sidecar Story).
I’m a walker, as should be clear from previous Sidecar Stories. With purpose, one can hike the entire perimeter of Ile Molene in less than an hour. I might be tempted to do that to get my steps in. Fortunately, my walks involve Rouge and Pippa, which has been a revelation. After a couple of uncomfortable outings (I’m not so accustomed to dogs), I learned that I am not the one in charge; they walk me. This makes this less about exercise or achieving a goal and more about discovery. Depending on which way their inclinations take us, I notice new things daily: the well-placed bright blue benches with expansive views of the North Sea and nearby islands; the algae atelier, because – of course! – everyone could use an algae elixir; the creperie which is hidden in the back streets and yet has never had an empty table available during my time here; the poissonerie, selling the daily catch. We also find ourselves in some places that seem rather unremarkable to me on the surface but that the dogs seem to find fascinating, judging by their avid sniffing. Wish I could sense what they do! What this means is that we stop for a spell, while their noses take in the news, and I take in the views. Goodness me, this island is beautiful. I regularly find myself steeped in awe as I take in what Mother Nature has bequeathed this place.
Our walks almost always bring us into view of the Semaphore, a signal tower that stands at the highest point of the island. Originally lit by fire and later by electricity, the Semaphore served as a lifeline for many ships and sailors over past decades, its signals helping them navigate the currents, winds and fog inherent in sailing the North Sea. Indeed, prior to the Semaphore’s construction, many a ship met its fate in these waters around Molene. Its welcome light served as both a beacon and a warning: sometimes signaling a safe harbor, other times a hazardous coastline.
Ships in trouble didn’t only have the Semaphore as aid. The SNSM, The Sauveteurs en Mer (Rescuers of the Sea), was established in the late 18th century to provide rescue operations in case of shipwrecks and other emergencies at sea. SNSM chapters exist all along the coast of France and are run by volunteers, who honor the French tradition of saving those in need, whether from the community or not, no questions asked.
I was fortunate enough to arrive on Ile Molene just two days in advance of the annual SNSM fête, which celebrates the courage and accomplishments of the SNSM while also honouring the lives of those lost at sea. A mass is said at the old stone church; a fleet of lifeboats operated by SNSM volunteers take to the sea to offer blessings. Then – the party starts. Music and merry-making fill the afternoon and evening. Feasting, too. On offer: locally-caught mussels, regionally-sourced sausage, and plenty of fries. All washed down with beer and capped off with dessert: either Far Breton, a dense tort made with eggs and prunes, or crepes, with fillings ranging from beurre-sucre (butter-sugar) to chocolate to apricot confiture.
And guess who flipped most of the crepes consumed that afternoon – close to 800 if rough estimates bear out? Yours truly. 😊 My friend who lives here (Rouge and Pippa’s owner, currently sailing the North Sea) volunteered me for the fête, and this was a great station for me, since my French is pas bien (no direct interaction with crepe customers) and my boat navigation skills simply don’t exist (as far as I’m aware, boats don’t have sidecars). By the end of the afternoon I had it down, churning out 4 filled crepes per minute. Guess what? It’s all in the wrist. Guess what else? I’m not quitting my day job. 😊
So what lessons for leadership or life in general might these sweet days on Ile Molene serve up? Here’s what occurs to me:
- Make time for sheepdog walks, even if you have to make up the sheepdog part. Loosen your grip on goal achievement and simply meander, stopping to sniff and look around now and again. Who knows what you’ll discover, or what moment of awe might await?
- Reflect on what your metaphorical semaphore might be. What guides you when you are in a fog? What beckons you home? Could be family, community, friends. Could be your own internal wisdom. How can you show up as a semaphore for others? Guiding them towards safer passages? Beckoning them home?
- What is the equivalent of the SNSM in your life, or your work? A community that comes together to take care of one another, no questions asked. If your family, school or other workplace, or community doesn’t feel that way, what can you do be the difference you want to see?
- And finally, what is your favorite crepe filling? Molenaars prefer beurre-sucre. For me, chocolate all day long. Rouge and Pippa: don’t ask.
Yours in sniffing in these final lingering days of a lovely summer,
Bridget
P.S. Newsflash! A space has just opened up for Sidecar Summit Portugal, taking place November 17-21 at the awe-somely beautiful semaphore of a place, Quinta Carvalhas, just north of Lisbon. So much to sniff there. Contact me ASAP if interested!
