I sailed in to Roscoff the next morning at 8am to be greeted by a beautiful morning.
The town was peaceful unlike my a racing heart that was both excited and terrified of driving on the wrong side of the road. I got on track quickly and headed for St Malo, which was three hours down the road. The drive didn't give me much to ponder on. The road wasn't marked by any real delights and the rain soon came. By the time I reached my destination, and finally found my hotel, I was regretting chosing this seeming ghost town as my first port of call. My room wasn't ready yet and I was wet and eager to off load some gear so I abandoned the bike and strolled around looking for food. Everything seemed to be closed and I couldn't see anything that resembled a bar or restaurant but finally found a place and treated myself to steak and chips. I then took a spin out to a local coastal village called Dinan which was mentioned in all the tourist guides and was lovely but was nothing compared to the coastal villages Im blessed with around home in Cork.
When I got settled in my room (which was designed in a lovely Breton fashion), I got out of my gear and hit the town. Took me a few miles to actually hit the town centre (well by town centre I mean the touristy area by the walls of the city). It was like nothing I'd seen before, cobbled tiny streets of what looked like sandstone, canons, high walls, ice cream shops everywhere! I strolled around but there was nothing really to keep me there as it got later. The only place you could get a pint was the restaurants and I had no desire to sit at a table alone so I decided to return to the hotel. The walk home was long and dark and the sound of waves crashing against the low walls that hardly protected pedestrians from getting soaked, made for an eerie but exciting path home. I started to really fell the fear when some guy in a car started talking to me and asking if I wanted a lift back to the hotel. I politely declined (maybe I should have shouted FUCK OFF!) and walked on but he started the car and drove up ahead of me. I spent the rest of the journey walking on the road in case the freaky bastard jumped out of a side street. When I finally got home, the bed and tv couldn't have been more comforting.
St Malo:
Next morning the plan was to get up and out of St Malo as fast as was humanly possible. The place, despite having a beautiful centre, freaked me out. It was probably the position of the hotel (I'll never pre-book again) and the lonely walk and probably wasn't the best place for a girl on her own. I got breakfast in the hotel (which taught me never to pay for breakfast in a French hotel again, unless you thing a roll and jam and a croissant for a tenner is cuisine to die for) and headed on my way. It was PISSING out of the heavens but I had planned a little treat before hitting the long road. I stopped off a huge aquarium that was buzzing with kids. I lost myself in the amazing set up, 360 degree tanks with sharks and other huge creatures, tanks with tiny newborn fish, everything you could imagine.
After taking my time checking out everything, I took a deep breath and returned to the torrential rain that awaited me outside.
The day that was to follow was going to be the hardest I had to put down all week. I spent eight hours ploughing through the wicked weather. But I didn't care, I had to get to Angers where I planned to spent two days chilling out. I stopped after a few hours for food and took a walk around the town to see if it was worth spending the night but slapped myself and said wake up bitch and keep going. So got to Angers at rush hour, huge city, had no idea where I was going and started to panic, slightly. Parked up when I could for a cigarette and to make a logical decision. Took fag box out of my pocket and it just crumbled into a soggy mess. Great, but a woman did stop to tell me she liked the bike. Spotted a sign for the nearby tourist office so figured I had to be in a decent spot. Also saw a two star hotel which I reckoned was in my budget so called in and booked for two nights. What a load off. Couldn't wait to get settled. Spent about an hour hanging up my saturated belongings around the room, salvaged some damp clothes and hit the town. Visited a few nice pubs and went to the cinema to see Milk. Back to the hotel for a lovely sleep.
Next morning I awoke to sunshine. Hurrah! I had planned to take a break from driving but after a few hours wandering around and visiting some art galleries and museums, I went for a drive through the lovely surrounding countryside and ended up in a savage zoo.
Was fairly wrecked that night so took it easy in my room.
Was very eager to leave next morning, having spent two days in Angers. Packed everything into plastic bags for fear of my baggage getting flooded again but was fairly confident that I'd seen the last of the rain. Stayed off the main roads, sometimes finding myself on tiny country roads (that had a better surface than any Irish main road). Think it was at this stage that I encountered the only pot holes I saw all week and guess what, I drove into every fucking one of them! I met up with the main routes again when I came to Vannes. I had planned to stay there but when I got there, I decided I had enough of big cities and I had plenty more driving power in me, so I kept going. Before I left, I filled up and got a sandwich in a petrol station. It started to rain as I was leaving so they invited me to stay for a while but I told them the rain didn't scare me so I kept going. The french people were so helpful, particularly the older people. It was probably the sight of a young girl on her own on a motorbike that appealed to their caring nature, whatever it was, they were lovely. I finally decided on Quimper as my resting point and what a decision that was. I loved the place. The hotel was cool and my room was massive. The town was really vibrant with cobbled streets and lovely bars. A major problem with France is that alot of businesses close quite early so its an awful feeling to be on the road all day and finally reach a destination to find slim pickings of food and drink places, especially places that are welcoming to a person alone (god I sound like such a loser - Im not, Im really cool honestly). Anyway no problem with Quimper so wandered around feeding and watering myself, and came back to hotel buzzing. Think I watched some car/bike stunt show on the tv.
Next morning decided to see a little more of Quimper so visited shops, got cool tshirts and went to the major art gallery. When I hit the road again, I stayed coastal taking in holiday towns like Cameret Sur Mer and Morgat. These places were just divine and I took some sexy photos of the bike by the sea. It was the kind of day and kind of road that you just want to throw off the helmet and get lost in the wind.
I spent that night in Morlaix. I was leaving the next night and didn't want to be too far from the port. Morlaix was pretty uneventful so I got cans of some groovy looking beer and chocolate brownies and spent most of the night in the hotel room watching a French film and trying to interpret it (something about the war - which war I couldn't tell you).
Some weird parade was going on in the town the next morning. In the midst of it, some guy collapsed and was puking up green stuff. Some teenagers were laughing and dancing around him so I presumed it was all part of the fun. I left soon after before the excitement got the better of me and what a drive I had ahead of me. It was the most glorious weather, glorious roads and glorious scenery I've ever experienced on the bike. I was more gliding than driving.
I used my sat nav for the third time on the trip to find a place called Huelgoat village where there was a well known forest walk. It was a pity I was dressed in leathers on this fine day and I climbed through the trees and over the rocks and hills but I figured a bit of sweat was good for me.
Forest Walk:
After than I cruised aimlessly in the comfort of knowing that I was never too far from Roscoff port and could open the throttle at any time if I needed to get there in a hurry. I drove on amazing roads, high up and towering over the water and fields below me.
I decided to explore Roscoff. I think it is probably an overlooked place as people are generally passing through, boarding or departing a ferry. I thought it was one of the sweetest little towns I've ever seen. I visited an exotic garden full of plants. I'm not into plants in any way but how could you not enjoy this little manafactured paradise under the beaming sun.
I spent the rest of the evening wandering around the town, treating myself to chips and then a crepe which I had been meaning to try all week. Nice enough tack! Finally, I said goodbye to beautiful France and boarded the ferry home.
What a week.
Oh yeah my most significant observation was that French flies are a lot fatter and bloodier than Irish ones. My helmet looked like a Jackson Pollack painting by the end of the week.
Liv,
ReplyDeleteIt seems there was more to your french crusades than you had let on...
I love the blog, keep it going.