The best of Brittany
Taking your own car offers comfort and ease to explore one of France’s most beautiful areas
IT IS said that Brittany is best viewed in beautiful tempered winter light, as so many famous artists understood — Claude Monet, the impressionist, immortalised Belle-Ile, a rocky island off its coast, in 40 of his paintings.
Cork Harbour is picture pretty too on this sunny December afternoon, best viewed from the top deck of Brittany Ferries’ Amorique, as she glides down the channel past our home town of Cobh out towards Roches Point. We have barely left and yet are already on our holidays, heading across the Celtic Sea to Roscoff.
It is a relief not to have to go near an airport to travel abroad. We appreciate the small things, like being able to bring as much luggage as we like in the car — packing the coffee pot is a source of joy.
Since Brittany Ferries extended its winter sailing times from October right through to December, I thought why not spend Christmas in France.
I was curious as to who else would be travelling at that time of year and discovered quite a lot of Irish-registered cars, as well as plenty of French and other EU ones, at the ferry terminal at Ringaskiddy.
Once on board it was straight to the spick-and-span cabin to dump our luggage, then up to the top deck to wave Cork goodbye. The weather forecast was for windy conditions and once outside the harbour the Amorique began to roll, but luckily neither I nor my son Sam succumbed to seasickness.
We explored the ferry, which had plenty of comfortable sitting areas, bars and restaurants, shops and cinemas. Dinner in the cafeteria ranged from delicious lamb casserole or chicken curry, to fish and chips or a vegetarian dish, at a very reasonable €13.60 per plate. A tasty Cote du Rhone wine in white, red and rose was available at €5.20 per quarter bottle.
We docked in Roscoff the following morning at 8am, then set out to Le Mont St Michel, about a two hour and 20-minute drive away. It is a magical island topped by a gravity-defying abbey, which for centuries was one of Europe’s major pilgrimage destinations. This holy island is now a Unesco World Heritage Site, as is its breathtaking bay. It was a beautiful sunny day with temperatures as high as 14 degrees — warm enough to throw off our coats as we walked up the winding streets toward the abbey.
Lunch afterwards was at La Ferme Restaurant, a converted barn a stone’s throw from the Mont. A threecourse meal was €27 per person and included homemade carrot soup, chicken in a local cider sauce and a superb cream meringue dessert. I found my longforgotten school French coming back and tried it at every opportunity, only to find myself being answered in English, not in a snooty but a friendly way — and probably just as well as I mightn’t have understood the replies.
I had pre-booked all our accommodation on Booking.
com, a mix of apartments, gites and a hotel. Our first two-night stay was in an apartment on the edge of the pretty town of Pontorson, about 6km from Le Mont St Michel. It was a mere ten-minute walk into the small town, where we visited the cathedral, and a local woman handing out hymn sheets tried to usher us into the service.
Pontorson was a good base for driving to St Malo the following day. Rising out of the granite rock, St Malo is a maze of medieval streets bursting with history and culture. The city curves out to sea on a stunning natural harbour that has created some of the best sandy beaches on the Emerald Coast. We walked across to the pretty islands of Le Grand Be and Le Petit Be, which can only be visited at low tide, and which afforded us some great photos looking back towards St Malo.
Having watched All The Light We Cannot See, filmed in the area, I found myself trying to figure out where certain scenes were set as we wandered through the alleyways full of arty shops, savouring the delicious smells from the restaurants, outdoor markets and cafes.
We left Pontorson the following day for Rennes, the capital of Brittany, about an hour’s drive away. Wandering around the old quarter you feel you are being transported back to medieval France as there are rows upon rows of timber frame houses and cobblestone streets. It is a metropolitan city, however, and boasts art museums, the grand Rennes Cathedral, and the Parc du Thabor, which included a rose garden and aviary.
A couple of hours of strolling around was enough and we then headed off to our next destination, a tiny village called Pordic, about 8km from St Brieuc. We stayed in a gite, which was very comfortable. The lovely couple who owned it offered to drive Sam to the train station in St Brieuc for his planned day trip to Nantes the following day.
I had decided to take that day off from sightseeing and spent it sleeping and reading a Cathy Kelly novel in one afternoon. It was the only day it rained during the week, and during a break in the downpour I slipped out for a quick 20-minute stroll through the village.
AFTER two nights in Pordic, we set off on the coastal route back towards Roscoff. We had one more night left before having to catch the ferry, so it was nice to be able to make the journey unpressured by time. We stopped off at beaches for long walks, and towns and villages that appealed to us for coffee and crepes.
Our last night was spent at a small hotel on the sea, and the next day we strolled around Roscoff and the nearby town of Port St Lyon. Of course, I also checked out the Wine Beer Shop and the Cave Wine Shop on the outskirts of Roscoff.
The lady in the Wine Cave was very charming and able to tell us that the ferry was leaving early to avoid impending rough weather — which we had already been informed of by Brittany Ferries. More importantly, she revealed that the Cote du Rhone wine sold on the ferry was on special offer at €2.99 a bottle.
I promptly bought a case, glad that I’d had a chance to taste it on the way out. Other good value wine was a Chardonnay for €3.29 a bottle, and Santa Rita 120 Cabernet Sauvignon was reduced to €4.79.
Back in Ireland that goes for €10 or more.
Then it was back on board for the early departure, and a return to the upper deck, to watch the quaint port recede in the tempered winter light as we began our journey home.