A Memory of Brittany by Ron Trill
Nine times, from l983 to 1991, we holidayed in France. The first year we were a party of six, but thereafter we were just four, Jean and myself plus Dave from Wareham and one other, depending on who we could persuade to come with us. I have many happy memories of these tours. Usually we went to Brittany or Normandy but sometimes we ventured southwards to the Loire, or even beyond. We would put ourselves in the hands of British Rail to reach Portsmouth for the ferry to St. Malo or Cherbourg or Caen, depending on which part of France we were going to explore. We would brew up three times each day; mid-morning, mid-afternoon and at lunch-time. For lunch we would buy bread, camembert cheese and various other items locally and then have a good meal at the hotel in the evening. Hotels were graded one to five, with the smallest at grade one. We usually had little difficulty in finding a comfortable grade two, often sporting the green and yellow emblem of the Logis de France, the sign of a good meal. For the last few years we hired a gîte for a week, (as our resting place), at which we would do ourselves rather well for meals, buying the raw materials at a local supermarket. There would be four or five days cycling from the ferry to the gîte, and then a similar time afterwards, back to the ferry. Altogether, this made a holiday of 2 weeks.
The interior of Brittany has some fine scenic areas. In fact, its woods and hills together with some fine old towns, provide a wonderful background for cycling. One such area is the Forêt de Quénécan, a small area of about 10 x 8 kilometres, on the northern edge of which the River Blavet flows through a series of small lakes on its way to the sea at Lorient. Nearby, is the Abbey of Bon Repos, now a small hotel in a lovely setting where we have stayed a couple of times. The first time, we approached the area from the west, but having been recommended to a hotel at Laniscat about 2 miles to the north, we soon turned left through the Gorges au Daoulas away from the area. As we entered the village of Laniscat, we noticed that the contents of one of the houses were being sold, and on arriving at the hotel, the proprietor, his wife and daughter, (all behind the bar), looked fairly whacked out after serving all the extra customers brought in by the sale. The day of the sale was a special day for the village and the prospect of getting rooms seemed chancy, but fortunately we did get in, and also had a very nice meal there. We showed our letter of recommendation to the daughter, with whom we became great friends. There was nothing they could not do for us as they well remembered the cyclists who gave us the recommendation. Two or three years later the family had gone, and the third time we tried, the hotel was full. Still, that's the way of things. The next day we followed the N164, a road running roughly east-west through central Brittany. Going east with a strong following wind through the town of Mur de Bretagne, we reached Loudeac for coffee, having covered a distance of about 20 miles. Afterwards, when we were walking with our bikes through the town, I glanced down a side-street and nearly had a fit. The sky was of such inky blackness that a storm of mammoth proportions was surely imminent. We hastily sought shelter, which we found in the form of a covered alleyway, I think. There we waited for the storm to break, which it very soon did. Some ten minutes or so later it was all over and we were able to proceed. We found an ideal picnic spot just outside Loudeac, with a handy road bridge close by in case of another deluge. During the hour we spent there the clouds came and went but nothing fell. After we left, perhaps we had covered a mile, down it came, with hail as an added extra. Rather rough weather for early June! It was a dash to get capes on; then it was over in a few minutes. The sky cleared completely, and when we arrived at Merdrignac by mid-afternoon it was warm sunshine but with the odd heap of sleet lying about, looking very much like snow. We stayed at the Hotel du Universe that night. It was an old-fashioned, rambling sort of place with a very large barn attached, full of old junk. It was here that we found places to park the bikes overnight. There was a party going on when we arrived, which took up the attention of the staff, but someone booked us in, and during the evening, (by which time the party was over), we again had a very nice meal, in company with several other people to whom a Sunday meal at the hotel was a natural thing to do in France. Two evenings later we were at St. Malo, and on the third day caught the ferry back to Portsmouth. All just a happy memory, now.Click here to go back to Salisbury Section Home Page
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