DINING IN DINANT
Having loitered beside Brittany’s prehistoric standing stones, Tipler’s 986 traverses France’s westernmost department for a sojourn on the coast...
Back in the olden days (pre-porsche, though post-neolithic), Mrs T and I lived aboard a 60ft Dutch barge sur le continent, cruising the European waterways with our daughter, Zoë. We found ourselves moored up for a few days on La Meuse at Dinant. During our recent road trip, I recalled a town in Brittany named, similarly, Dinan, boasting a harbour for yachts and barges on the River Rance, just inland from the Gulf of St Malo. This memory provided an excuse to dip into exploration mode, and without recourse to a single main road, let alone an Autoroute, Mrs T spurned satnav and navigated the Boxster along a network of country lanes by means of that archaic device known as a road atlas. We travelled a full 180km, all the way from Brittany’s southern shores to its northernmost beaches, beside La Manche. Mellow, limestone villages, crumbling chateaux, café-bars with outside tables, longhorn cattle, streams, canals and lock keeper’s cottages; we were provincially rustic enough to feel we were immersed in La France profonde.
By way of straights long and short, bends easy and tight, and by crossing undulating farmland, the 986 S lapped up the routes de campagne. There wasn’t a lot of use for sixth gear, though the 3.2 flat-six harnessed sufficient torque to motor along in a highish cog, while its snick-slick shift operated fluently, especially in second, thanks to technicians at SCS Porsche in Honiton, who fitted the cigar-sized ‘detent pin’ operating on the input selector shaft. We did have another wheeze up our sleeve, which was to do a trackday at Circuit de Lohéac, just south of Rennes, but the venue turned out to be shut. Never mind, because Dinan was a pleasant surprise: a post-medieval walled hilltop town, embracing narrow streets and alleyways, crammed with stylish boutiques, trendy bars and restaurants. When it came to topping up on the fashion items, Mrs T was a pushover for the sweet-talking vendeuse, and over a bottle of Bordeaux blanc and bowls of moules marinières, we vowed we’d make this an annual pilgrimage. Ah, best laid plans. Still, the waterside moorings and port-deplaisance ( which motivated us to visit Dinan in the first place) were an enticing prospect, viewed from on high behind the crenelations of the elevated town’s substantial walls.
Anyway, after a couple of nights at the amiable Maison de la Tortue Bleue B&B and some relaxed sightseeing, not to mention retail therapy, we pushed off for Caen and the return crossing to Blighty aboard Brittany Ferries’ SS
Mont St-michel. Once again, my co-pilot plotted a course on minor roads from Dinan through La Cotentin, covering roughly 200km, pausing at an old haunt, La Chapelle-sur-vire, for a picnic in a watermeadow beside the babbling Vire. We made a point of revisiting a nearby hamlet where an enjoyable tipple (Calvados… who knew?!) was spent in an auberge agréable. After that, we bimbled over to the D-day beaches, which were still swarming with tourists, late afternoon. From there, it was a decent run to the port for the evening sailing. Quite a few chancers milled around, looking for lifts and passage to a supposedly brighter future in Great Britain.
Another night crossing, another bowl of good old Freda Mare (aka fruitsde-mer). Shortly after rolling off the enormous Brittany Ferries leviathan, another milestone was passed when the odometer clicked up 50,000. That’s what happens when your Porsche is your daily driver, even though, by and large, the car only gets used for work trips. The 986 S has much to commend it: it’s free-spirited, offers peerless handling, and it’s plenty quick enough. Top down if it’s sunny, snug as a bug if not. Before hitting the arterial roads for the long-haul trek back to Norfolk — spurning the motorways whenever possible — we popped in to see Mrs T’s Devonian cousins, who happen to live near SCS (where my 986 was bought) and Cargraphic’s silencer manufacturer, Phoenix Exhausts in Cullompton. We found time for tea and a quick hello.
When the shackles are off, Mrs T and I have a road trip planned to the Orkney Islands. Standing stones? Apparently, as a phenomenon, prehistoric stone circles started in the Orkneys and moved south, via Stonehenge and Avebury, ending up at Carnac. Whether they’ll ever retire is anyone’s guess.