Cycling through a coastal wetlands nature reserve on the French Atlantic coast, sun on our faces, gravel crunching beneath our tyres and fresh sea air in our lungs, I can't help but smile to myself. Discoveries like this are what an active family road trip is all about.
Three days before I was tentatively hooking up the Opus 'folding camper' trailer to my ageing car with its dying clutch, wondering how man, machine and family would fare with ten days and 1000 miles of trailer tent touring.
This road trip would be a journey of discovery in many ways, exploring what Brittany can offer the active family with a pre-school child but with a difference; using an Opus folding camper as our portable platform for adventure.
From the moment we saw the Opus we had to try it. We love camping and have previously owned campervans - could the Opus be the ultimate halfway house?
Ever since it appeared on TV's Dragon's Den, the Opus' armadillo-like shape and funky but sophisticated interior has turned the heads of those who, like us, hate caravans.
Maybe this is thanks to its image as an adventure-ready platform, aimed at the young, active crowd, always shown loaded with adventure gear such as bikes and kayaks.
Inside neon blue LED lighting and cream leatherette seating evokes images of pimped out VW campervans - but without the heartache of regular breakdowns. We hoped.
The doorstep mile
Dragging myself out of bed at 5 a.m. I open the living room curtains and eye up the spectacle on our drive with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Having enough storage space for the proverbial kitchen sink has negated any hard decisions about what to take and what to leave, so we've included enough adventure gear for an invasion.
With the family rallied and looking almost as fearful as me we pile in ready to leave. As I sit on the drive, steering wheel in hands, eyes firmly fixed on the Opus in the rear view mirror a shadow of doubt casts over me,
But the words of the Opus rep replay in my mind "You could tow this with a mini. You'll hardly notice it's there," I grip the steering wheel, perhaps a little too tightly and gingerly navigate my way out of the drive. We're off.
The doorstep mile behind us, we make it, through rural Dorset and all the way on to the brand spanking new Condor Ferries Rapide without so much as a cursed word uttered, which, by my own admission is no mean feat.
After a brief stop off in both Guernsey and Jersey, we arrive in St Malo later than is comfortable for a 4-year-old. Hoping that he'll fall asleep and leave us to argue about which turning to take in peace, we plough on towards our first campsite just outside Roscoff.
Arriving at 1 a.m. on a campsite, in the dark, is never a good idea. But aside from wrestling with some of the finer details of pitching the Opus for the first time, by around 2 a.m. we've got the bed platforms out, the canvas up, and are in bed for what's left of the night.
As daylight comes it's clear we're not the only ones curious about this folding canvas wonder, with passers by trying to steal a glimpse inside.
But we've only stopped here for a staging post, so after a stroll along the windswept, rugged coastline we head back to fold away the Opus, which turns out to be a lot easier in dappled sunshine and with the help of my now rested wife.
On the road again we traverse the north-western peninsula's classically French countryside, gently rolling hills and even gentler towns and villages. Old men chew the cud outside roadside cafes sipping espressos while everywhere else seems deserted at this midday lull.
Our journey takes us through the Armorique Natural Regional Park, which stretches inland from Crozon just south of Brest to the Finistere town of Morlaix to the East. We're greeted by a landscape of moorland, rocky peaks and pretty valleys, which remind me of rural west Wales.
The regional park is punctuated by the Mont d'Arrée, an ancient mountain range which forms part of the Armorican Massif. The beauty of a touring holiday is that you can stop where you want, so we pull up and set off up its highest peak, the 364 metre Roc'h Trévézel.
My son must have some distant rock climber relative, as he's scrambling up the rocks in an instant. I manage to follow him and we safely make it to the top.
Our reward is 360 degree views of rolling hills, lakes and valleys which unfold to the horizon. My 4-year-old son is thrilled to have summited his first peak and is leaping around excitedly - perhaps too excitedly now considering the sheer drops, so we pick our way down and set off again. As we wind our way towards our destination on the Atlantic Coast the colours of this wonderful and evocative landscape change from lush, deep greens to sandy yellows and light green hues. The geology changes from one scarred by millennia of glacial action, with jagged outcrops and valleys to one shaped by wind and tides.
We reach our home for the next few days, the Camping and Caravanning Club affiliated Camping L'Atlantique which has direct access to mile upon mile of unspoiled white sand beaches with azure blue seas, rolling dunes and coastal wetlands alive with wildlife.
This is where bringing our own adventure gear all the way out here really starts to pay off. A local map shows a cycle path running along the coast, and direct access to this from the campsite means we waste no time in digging out our cycling gear, hooking up the trailer for my son and heading off to explore this obviously stunning area further.
We amble along the cycle path wondering why we've never been here before, dipping into and out of nature reserves, beaches and charming, sleepy seaside towns such as Mousterlin and Benodet.
From the Point de Mousterlin the cycle track runs along a spit sandwiched between dunes and marshy wetlands. A few hours into the ride and our legs have started to ache, and the calls for food from the bike trailer are too loud to ignore, so we make the call to pull off onto Plage de Kerler.
Summiting the dunes we're faced with a naked man who looks as surprised as we are. As he scurries off we see the 'naturist beach' sign on the entrance to the dunes.
Undeterred, we make our way onto what has to be one of the most picturesque and unspoilt pieces of coastline within 100 miles of England. The beach stretches out of sight in both directions and apart from the odd naked bottom taking a mid-morning stroll, is largely deserted.
After a few blissful hours playing on the beach we pedal our way back to the campsite, relaxed and content. The excellent on-site facilities mean the fun doesn't stop when we get back either, with swimming pools, a shop, indoor play area, large games field and, of course, a good bar.
After three further idyllic days of exploring the seaside resorts of Cap Coz and Beg Meil to the east and the white sandy beaches to the west it's time to move on again. We've all fallen firmly in love with this little corner of Brittany though, so resolve to return for a longer stay next time.
Our next stop is inland on the eastern fringes of the Finistere region, where we pitch beside the gently flowing L'Elle river at Camping Ty Nadan. This is a much quieter campsite well suited to families with older children, with a raft of outdoor activities available on and off the water.
Sam is still too young to join in the group activities, so we take him on our own microadventure, hiring one of the many Canadian canoes on offer. Paddling up the wide, tranquil river, through shady shallows under mature trees, proves the perfect way to spend our final full afternoon.
But the tour isn't over yet! With another stop on the itinerary before a mad, early morning dash to the ferry, we're definitely starting to tire of our routine. On reflection we've achieved so much - 10 days, 1000 miles with a trailer in tow, four different campsites and more active family adventures than you can shake a stick at.
Given the chance to do it all again we'd definitely opt for one or two well-suited campsites allowing us more time to explore each area, which would also mean less upheaval.
On the other hand, being so mobile has meant we've seen so many sides to this corner of France and developed a love for its hidden places, which we would never have discovered on a one-destination holiday.
Could we have done all this without an Opus? Probably. Would it have been as much fun? Definitely not.
