Mont Saint Michel

I love May in France. I love the gradual, gentle transition into spring, I love the wisteria and lilacs that last for weeks, and I especially love the long weekends.

We had our second long weekend of the month this past week, thanks to the conclusion of WWII and those clever Allied soldiers so many years ago.

David and I decided to spend our weekend in Brittany and Normandy, the northwestern regions of the country. The focal point of the trip was Mont Saint Michel, which I had visited with my parents a few years ago but David had not seen yet.

We took our time getting out of town on Thursday, and arrived at the bed and breakfast in the late afternoon. I booked us a room in the cute little village of Bazouges-la-Pérouse, about 20 minutes from Mont Saint Michel. The French word for a bed and breakfast is chambre d’hote, but David likes to call it a chambre d’autre, which is pronounced almost exactly the same but means “bedroom of another”.

Anyway, we were shown our room and handed the keys to the house and had the rest of the evening ahead of us. We didn’t know what to do with ourselves, so we decided to make an early visit to Mont Saint Michel.

It was around 6:00 when we arrived, and the first thing David wanted to do was walk around the island. The tide was out, and he wanted to see a boat that had been marooned by the tides. So we sloshed to the back side of the island, carefully picking our way over the wet sand.

It didn’t occur to us that all of the other tourists were walking past us in the opposite direction, and soon we found ourselves alone at the back of the island. High above, we saw visitors on the abbey walls, pointing toward the sea. Then David squinted toward the horizon and said, “Is that the tide coming in?”

Sure enough, the sea was coming at us at an alarming rate. My tour book says 6 mph, which doesn’t sound too dramatic, but when the water is ebbing toward your shoes, and you haven’t read the tour book yet, and you didn’t know what time the tide was coming in, but you do know that dry land is a good ten minute walk away, it can be unnerving.

So we scurried around back to the front of the island with the other tourists. There, safely within reach of the dock, we watched the tide come in further before finally getting bored and entering the island.

Evening turned out to be a great time to visit Mont Saint Michel, as most of the tour busses from Paris and day-trippers had already pulled out. The streets were relatively quiet, and we climbed the cobbled streets without having to elbow past crowds. We decided to visit the abbey the next day, but spent that evening exploring the other parts of the island, discovering the ramparts and narrow passages and pretty stone buildings.

We came out to the island that evening with plans to take photos of Mont Saint Michel at night, so we decided to kill the last hours of daylight at dinner. We chose a restaurant with a large window overlooking the sea, and ordered local specialties; I had a large platter of seafood – crab, langoustines, shrimp, oysters, and sea snails – and David had the infamous “pre-salted” Mont Saint Michel lamb. Apparently the lambs are pre-salted because they eat the grass that grows from the sea water. When asked, David confirmed that the lamb was indeed….salted.

After dinner we hopped back into the car and drove halfway along the causeway leading back to the mainland. We set up the tripod, fired up the camera, and spent the early hours of the night taking photos.

The next day we returned to Mont Saint Michel, this time hoping to get in before the tour buses. As we rolled along the causeway, we saw something new in the daylight – pre-salted sheep. Several other tourists had stopped to take photos from the road, but we pulled off onto a shoulder, grabbed the camera, and clamored down the bank to get up close and personal.

I don’t know what was driving those sheep, because there wasn’t a shepherd or a dog in sight, but they were on a mission. They lumbered past us single file with the occasional baa, and we acted like sheep paparazzi. Further down the road I could see the line of sheep climbing up the embankment and across the road, onward to an unknown destination.

Finally back on the island, we walked straight past the shops and restaurants and up to the abbey. We tried to follow along on a tour in French, but finally got impatient and wandered off with the camera. So in the end we saw the whole thing, but we really don’t know the history or what any of the rooms were used for.

We left Mont Saint Michel in the early afternoon and started driving along the coast to the town of Cancale, which boasts a long line of seafood restaurants facing a picturesque bay. We chose one at random and enjoyed mussels and fries on the sunny terrasse. Back in the car, we contined along the coast, making stops at scenic points and little towns to appreciate the view, the sun, and the sea air. Finally we stopped in the walled city of Saint Malo, where we ate a modest dinner to balance out the heavy meals we’d been eating.

The next morning we mutually decided that we’d enjoyed our tour, but we’d had enough driving around the area. We delicately told our hostess that we’d be leaving a day early, and took a tour of her beautiful garden before checking out.

Before heading home we wanted to make a few more stops, and started with a revisit to Saint Malo. Saint Malo is a small, fully enclosed city, which has largely been converted to tourist shops and restaurants. For this reason it is very difficult and expensive to park, which certainly took away some of the charm before we had even entered the walls.

Once inside, David was not the least bit interested in shops, but wanted to see the ocean side of the city. We walked to the far end, then up the ramparts to overlook the sea beyond. From the walls we could see a fort further afield, which was accessible when the tide was out. After carefully noting the time and the tide schedule, we walked out to the fort.

In fact, the fort was closed for tours, but the most interesting part was the walk. After crossing the wide beach we climbed over a series of rocks where the tide had left countless tidepools. Children and adults alike were scrambling over the rocks, peering in the pools and pointing out shells and fish. It was like hundreds of little natural aquariums.

I could have spent all day there, but finally we had to continue. We stopped for lunch before we left town, enjoying another fine meal on another sunny terrasse.

Our next stop was Dinan, a medieval town of half-timbered buildings and more cobbled streets. We walked to the edge of town and found another city wall, another set of ramparts, and took in another beautiful view. Then David humored me for a while and even accompanied me in a little shop, where we picked out some local red wine vinegar for salad dressing.

Late last night we were back home and in our own bed. Coming back a day early turned out to be a good decision, as we had a full day today to stock the refrigerator, clean the apartment, and upload our photos. The best photos that I couldn’t fit on this post are on our flickr site, and if you’re hungry for more, I made a Picassa album here.

Hope you enjoyed the weekend as much as we did. Bisous!