Week Three
Day 15
I promised you another Calvary and this one was outside a church and very similar to a roadside one I passed recently. I'd been pondering whether to have a full day off the bike but decided on a 30 mile round trip to the beech as the weather is spectacular; of course when I get there I'll be cowering in the shade.
When I took this photo I was sat in a village centre enjoying a coffee and patisserie which is one of France's delights for me.
Broad sands like you might find up near Cancale east of Saint-Malo. Like those beaches near Cancale they offer three wheeled buggies that have a sail to power you along.
Calvaries are a thing in Brittany so I don't feel too bad showing you one more. In this one the crucifixion is mounted on the horns of a stag with Christ then out of scale in the tableau he finds himself in. The stone work is detailed and very well preserved.
Towards the end of today's circular route I enjoyed a fantastic off-road section downhill to basecamp. In truth this route became more of a mountain bike trail and I cautiously walked two short sections to avoid any bike (or human) damage, which is just as well as human damage was just around the corner.
The station building design mirrors others I have seen in the area and the tracks must have gone over the nearby viaduct built in 1906 just before our 1910 travellers.
Having re-planned to do a 30 mile rather than a 40 mile day I had a great ride and enjoyed the variety and relative quiet of the minor roads after the recent days of flat railway embankments and canals. If I take away any conclusions I feel one is that I like variety; if I choose to cycle one of the canal routes in future I would need to plan plenty of off-canal excursions.
It's not about the distance but when I realised I was just under 30 miles I did cycle round the block to round up the number. That first day riding out of Saint-Malo seems a long way away and I am really looking forward to medieval Quimper tomorrow.
Day 16
An elderly couple sit quietly on a bench beside the cathedral in Quimper. The cathedrals bells are ringing and a lethal arrow hisses through the air just 4 meters behind them.
No, this isn't the first paragraph of my new thriller but the scene in front of me. Historic Quimper town is holding an archery competition and rather than finding a field away from the tourist crowds they are holding it in the town centre. And not just in a small designated part of town but the whole of the town centre, because wherever there is a vaguely safe place to launch a deadly arrow then that is where someone will be aiming their bow. Despite the sunshine and blue skies it is quite chilling.
I'd left Chateaulin this morning without any breakfast and as soon as I felt hungry I entered "boulangerie" into Google Maps and sure enough there was one just a mile off my route. Breakfast sorted as I joined the relaxed Sunday queue for bread. As often happens my cycling satnav decides that the bakery queue is a good time to loudly tell me my GPS signal is weak and as always happens everyone turns to look at me, smiling. I provide a goofy smile by way of apology, fumble with my phone to pause navigation and only remember to turn it on again when entering Quimper and feeling in need of directions that aren't forthcoming.
At Quimper I sit for a coffee facing out onto a small square edged with Creperies. At noon the outside is empty. By 12:30 the Creperie's are turning people away. Complet.
Being a Sunday there are plenty of cyclists out, and being Brittany few cars so it was a good morning's ride. With no booking for tonight I now head off to a campsite. As beautiful as Quimper is, with the archers all around wherever I am sat I feel like I am in the kill zone.
No, this isn't the first paragraph of my new thriller but the scene in front of me. Historic Quimper town is holding an archery competition and rather than finding a field away from the tourist crowds they are holding it in the town centre. And not just in a small designated part of town but the whole of the town centre, because wherever there is a vaguely safe place to launch a deadly arrow then that is where someone will be aiming their bow. Despite the sunshine and blue skies it is quite chilling.
I'd left Chateaulin this morning without any breakfast and as soon as I felt hungry I entered "boulangerie" into Google Maps and sure enough there was one just a mile off my route. Breakfast sorted as I joined the relaxed Sunday queue for bread. As often happens my cycling satnav decides that the bakery queue is a good time to loudly tell me my GPS signal is weak and as always happens everyone turns to look at me, smiling. I provide a goofy smile by way of apology, fumble with my phone to pause navigation and only remember to turn it on again when entering Quimper and feeling in need of directions that aren't forthcoming.
At Quimper I sit for a coffee facing out onto a small square edged with Creperies. At noon the outside is empty. By 12:30 the Creperie's are turning people away. Complet.
Being a Sunday there are plenty of cyclists out, and being Brittany few cars so it was a good morning's ride. With no booking for tonight I now head off to a campsite. As beautiful as Quimper is, with the archers all around wherever I am sat I feel like I am in the kill zone.
Probably one of the two most important but confusing signs in France. You will likely see it as you leave a built up area where you might pick up speed. It means you have priority and is basically saying behave as if on UK roads as no one can cut in from a side road or roundabout entry.
This same sign with a black diagonal line through it means you no longer have priority and someone can cut in from the right so watch out. This includes roundabouts and cars have stopped on roundabouts to let me on to the roundabout because I unknowingly had priority.
Some have observed a rose-tinted-spectacles view of cycle touring presented here. In truth things have worked out well. The French weather has been fair and the variety of cycle routes good; I don't want to list all the bad things that could have happened but didn't as that would just tempt fate. Just know that I will let you know if anything bad happens. This is my secret code for "something bad is going to happen so read on".
When booking (or just finding) accommodation to fit in with my route I was hoping to find the one web site that has all the camp sites, all easily bookable online. Not so, some campsites don't even have a website, and where they do they may not mention their reception times which vary greatly. So it is that I find myself outside reception at 3:30pm waiting for it to open at 5:30pm. Not that that's a problem and usually there would be a notice instructing you to find a spot and pitch, pay later. Ah, sure enough someone just walked by to say pitch now and sort out admin later.
The actual physical work of cycling is enjoyable and I particularly like meandering through the countryside. I've not paid attention to my shoulders enough and following a solid ride to Quimper today and a lengthy rest there, the ascent out of that medieval town was met with some discomfort. I say discomfort, imagine going to A&E complaining of a shoulder twinge. They stick a red hot scalpel between your shoulder blades and say "no, that's what pain feels like". Then you foolishly divert attention to your complaining, burning thighs and they inject deep heat directly into the muscles and say, well, you get the idea. I soon warm-up, stretch out anything that is 'uncomfortable' and enjoy the ride.
I spied a Creperie on the way to the campsite and am tempted to drop by later.
Day 17
The French love their dogs and they appear to favour a small pooch. They may keep a dog in a fenced garden in remote areas to keep passers-by at bay. I often get yapped at as I cycle past a house. The French are going through the education process of cleaning up after their dogs and are very nearly there. When approaching dogs as I cycle their owners are always keen to put their friendly canine on a lead to avoid (I assume) any dog/cycle interaction.
So far so good, though as you will have surmised by something bad is about to happen. Today when I approached a remote house and heard barking I wasn't alarmed, the usual large guard dog behind a large fence. Then I noticed its twin in front of the fence. I had been slowing down on a gentle incline thinking about navigation having just passed a junction and before I knew it I was being gently mauled by a large hound. I say gently mauled but that was the adrenalin talking. Anyway, a combination of shouting and picking up some small amount of speed got me far enough away and I cycled on to tell the tale and it was only when I felt a wet dribble down my left calf that I new any actual damage had been done. I sustained some bruising, scratches, a matching set of four puncture wounds and a two inch long gash which would be visible two months later as a purple candidate for a more permanent scar.
"But the bike?" I hear you ask. I was securely bolted to the pedals by my cleats and the dog failed to push us both over so the bike was unscathed. I feel I took one for the team.
In France it is rabies we might think of though any bite is dangerous given the germs that exist in animal (and human) mouths. The trick is to clean the area quickly and in the absence of medical care let the outward flow of blood wash the germs away. Oh, and do check your tetanus shots are up to date.
So far so good, though as you will have surmised by something bad is about to happen. Today when I approached a remote house and heard barking I wasn't alarmed, the usual large guard dog behind a large fence. Then I noticed its twin in front of the fence. I had been slowing down on a gentle incline thinking about navigation having just passed a junction and before I knew it I was being gently mauled by a large hound. I say gently mauled but that was the adrenalin talking. Anyway, a combination of shouting and picking up some small amount of speed got me far enough away and I cycled on to tell the tale and it was only when I felt a wet dribble down my left calf that I new any actual damage had been done. I sustained some bruising, scratches, a matching set of four puncture wounds and a two inch long gash which would be visible two months later as a purple candidate for a more permanent scar.
"But the bike?" I hear you ask. I was securely bolted to the pedals by my cleats and the dog failed to push us both over so the bike was unscathed. I feel I took one for the team.
In France it is rabies we might think of though any bite is dangerous given the germs that exist in animal (and human) mouths. The trick is to clean the area quickly and in the absence of medical care let the outward flow of blood wash the germs away. Oh, and do check your tetanus shots are up to date.
This is old news, but for the sake of balance I'll mention the Mont St Michel wasp incident. Basically a wasp flew into the left lens of my sunglasses. It took the opposite view and thinking I had launched an attack was quick to attach itself to my right knee and sting me. On a pain level, Dog 0, Wasp 10. Enough said. Oh, this is Concarneau.
This ancient town on the bay of La Foret comprised the Old and New towns back in 1910 though I feel it's all merged now and wish I had longer to explore. Entering Concarneau on a disused railway embankment I am nearly unseated when my front tyre runs up against the old rail track which at that point has emerged from under the new gravel cycle greenway. I realise my blood sugar levels are low (or rather, I don't feel good) as I was out of food and breakfast had been plain boiled pasta. Immediately there was a whiff of boulangerie and I pulled over to refuel. The boulangerie has seating and coffee so I take time to refuel. It also has a rolling display of old and new Concarneau though my photo doesn't do it justice.
When the French say greenway they mean it.
As I mentioned earlier, Pont-Aven was home to an artists group at the time of our old friend Paul Sérusier. It even has a street named after him. Delightful town without the throngs of tourists in Concarneau Old Town. Oh, and I chose a normal street view rather than the quaint river or the square.
The planned campsite today had not yet opened for the season so I found one further along my planned route. The new campsite added 14Km to the day but reduces tomorrow's 77Km by about that amount. Overall a good result. My photos might not quite do justice to the variety I experienced today. Fast roads and slow cart-tracks, historic bustling towns and sandy deserted beaches, pasta breakfast then a great sandwich and patisserie, campsite closed but better campsite open. Now it's time to setup camp, clean myself up and hunt for food; it's Monday when most things are closed.
Yes, "Blood, sweat and gears" was Channel 4's slogan for the tour some years ago and with the inevitable black chain smudge on my right calf, blood on the left I think I qualify for a long hot shower.
Day 18
Today I get to take another cheeky short cut on a passenger ferry which my route planning tool (cycle.travel) had factored in and which my navigation tool (komoot) directs me to. It had been a bit convoluted planning in one tool then exporting the directions in .gpx format then importing each and every one of the 34 days but it had been worth it.
Deserted beaches, aquamarine sea. What more can I say.
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| On the way down the 10 mile long spit to Quiberon |
Day 18 means I have passed the half-way marker in the number of days. At 1,053Km it also means I have passed the equally arbitrary 1,000Km milestone. After yesterday's excitement I was pleased to have an uneventful day; just enjoying the pedalling. Someone stopped me, but only to use my pump and someone else wanted directions. A short trip on a passenger ferry was fun.
It has turned hot again but with a cool breeze. After 4 nights under canvas it felt odd checking in to a hotel. It is an ibis 3-star rather than anything fancier and this means that they are more accommodating when it comes to bikes. They provided the option of storing the bike in our ground floor room or the bike could have its very own conference room. I chose the later as Mayuri joins me later and as they say, three's a crowd.
Time for a soak in the bath to ease those shoulders. On expeditions like these I normally end up with leg cramps in bed or getting in or out of the tent. Not so this time and overall the legs are powering through and long may that continue.
Day 19
Today is my first day off the bike and as a few people have been asking for 1910 travel and fashion tips I'll cover that today. I don't have many but as with todays touring cyclist such as me the advice in 1910 was to travel light. A simple gladstone bag (think holdall) or valise should suffice. If not then a simple leather portmanteau which should be easy for customs to examine is advised; the portmanteau being a case that opens out into two roughly equal parts.
The advertisements in my Cook's guide run to just 12 pages and give ideas on how to fill that portmanteau. This was still an age where a weathered face (tanned) was considered a feature of the working class so a single product could be bought to get rid of sunburn, redness, tan, and freckles in one go as well as dealing with insect stings and eczema. Clearly a time before regulations on advertisements.
The advertisements in my Cook's guide run to just 12 pages and give ideas on how to fill that portmanteau. This was still an age where a weathered face (tanned) was considered a feature of the working class so a single product could be bought to get rid of sunburn, redness, tan, and freckles in one go as well as dealing with insect stings and eczema. Clearly a time before regulations on advertisements.
My 1910 guide said there was not much of interest in Quiberon for the tourist and I very nearly left it out of my plans. However, after a beach front evening meal to walk back to this sunset was a treat.
Day 20
As I had been following the train tracks of our 1910 tourists it felt like this photo had to be taken at some point on my tour. The branch line out to Quiberon has not run trains for some years so no cyclist was put in harms way at any time.
As they were nearby I took a short detour to visit the dolmens of Rondessec which are situated on the outskirts of Plouharnel near Carnac. It felt like it had to be done. Menhir, check. Dolmen, check.
Navigation has felt frustrating and slow for parts of this morning as I pick my way along various roads, tracks and paths, though being traffic free it has been pleasant. This sign seemed relevant and takes me across the now disused Quiberon branch line.
After a full day of not cycling I was happy to be back on the bike. Outside the hotel I was wrestling with bike and panniers when the receptionist rushed out to help; another example of French helpfulness.
Today was 40 miles and mostly flat. It was another day of contrasts as I wrestled with navigation and then had the good fortune to stumble upon a village that had a small market. Galette saucise, bananas and a bottle of local apple juice for lunch.
I was both off-road and wriggling through suburbs though some of this was on an excellent Voie Verte.
I was in the hotel room by 3:30pm with the bike securely locked in the hotel garage. As hinted at I have done a lot of wrestling today so look forward to a hot shower and a saunter around historic Vannes which is close to my hotel, itself opposite the railway station.
Day 21
I have been excited about the homeward journey for a few days now and finally, having moved westerly, then southerly I am heading back up to the less populated north of Brittany, tracking east on some days, north on others, to see me into Normandy. Great scenery today with rolling countryside and wildlife to entertain me such as a jay and a green frog. Like Brownian motion, you don't see the frog, just the effect it has on its environment; rustling leaves and so on.
The only trouble with today is that I feel awful. Energy and strength have been sucked from my body; the only good news is that my bike's gear shift allows me to drop down 3 gears with one long easy swish of my fingers. I do this at any sign of uphill gradient.
Last night in bed my hamstrings cramped up; one at a time. This is normal when I do these longer trips and I'm surprised I haven't put a plan in place to avoid them though as may have mentioned recently so far the legs have held up well.
The photo is from my viewpoint in Plaudren, sheltering from the sun forcing down some food and the French equivalent of dioralyte. Like many villages the church takes centre stage with a central ring of houses, eateries and shops.
Brittany was a place of druids so this morning I delayed my start to visit a druid encampment in Vannes. I spent the morning taking of the potion they entrusted to me and little by little started to feel better. So much so that I ventured off-route to pay homage at a dolmen sight that probably drew the forefathers of this mornings pharmacist, I mean druid.
It's 23 degrees Celsius with a matching warm breeze but my spirits were lifted as I hit the next village. As I drew into the church square I saw they had the bunting out to greet me, then the church bells rang in celebration of my victorious 20 miles. Only 10 miles to go for which I intend to draw on my hero's such as Mark Beaumont and Ellen McArthur, or should that be plucky Tim Moore who rose to fame as the middle-aged unfit amateur who cycled the route of one of the Tour de France routes. And to think today was my short easy day.
A short and easy departure from Vannes, two beautiful villages, good roads and an escapade into the woods to find a dolmen made this a very good day. It was a shame I woke feeling so awful but as the day wore on I did regain some strength.
Even on the downhills it felt like I was just hanging on to the bike trusting it would carry me through; which it did.
The campsite today had been booked and reception was close to the entrance, my pitch close to reception and the shower block, and there was even a restaurant 50m away that opens at 6pm; an early hour unheard of in France. The helpful receptionist sees my tired state and comes out of her office to point out my pitch. After 726.3 miles I realise I need to manage fatigue and a campsite I was planning to use for 2 nights provides an opportunity. It is now closed and the plan was a long day to get there, a 'bonus' circular route and a long day to Vitré. My cunning plan is to miss that circular route and turn two long days into three shorter days.
Though I don't have bookings the two new campsites look like they actually exist and there are back-up options nearby.
Brittany doesn't really have the fairy-tale castles of the Loire Valley but early tomorrow I hope to see the best castle in Brittany. Even back in 1910 the owners had opened parts of it up to the public who would tip the caretaker for showing them around. Tomorrow is still 40 miles and I couldn't understand why I was being forced by satnav to trace a big relaxed tick. The sort a teacher might deploy to grade some satisfactory homework. Was satnav telling me I was doing OK? On closer inspection the first 10 mile are along the Nantes-Brest canal and being flat should not be taxing.
Click here for week four.
