The site was almost empty, but a little slopey. Experts in campervannery could probably tell you that parking face up a hill is a bad idea. I woke up with a crick in my neck, and the feeling that all my blood was in my head.
My main target in this area was Mont St. Michel, which I guessed would not be the ideal place to stay, because it is offshore in the middle of a marsh, so I headed for nearby St. Malo to look for a campsite.
After discovering that many of them were closed, I found one almost in the
centre of town, with views of the sea and wooded hills.
The site was almost empty, but a little slopey. Experts in campervannery
could probably tell you that parking face up a hill is a bad idea.
I woke up with a crick in my neck, and the feeling that all my blood
was in my head.
The campsite (Municipal d'Alet, not in the books) is actually on the top
of the hill in this picture, though it is well hidden.
Sunday was the walking tour day. The city itself is walled
and the whole area inside is cobbled streets and stone buildings
On close examination, a lot of these don't look all that old, and the reason for
that is - the Allies again! During 1940, a large contingent of Germans wer believed
to be holed up in the town (mistakenly, according to the commentary on my tram tour), and it was
80% destroyed by artillery and bombs. After the war, they reconstructed the town
on the original plan, using the granite blocks recovered from the wreckage. Saved
from the devastation that is modern architecture, unlike some towns we know.
The most attractive part (in my biased view) is the old castle which has been converted
into a town hall
especially since on this particular day it was being used for a flower show, complete
with rather loud public address system announcing the winners
My second day here was the most frustrating I have had since hitting the road. The Quest for Internet on Sunday came up with absolutely nothing - there are two CyberCafe's listed by the tourist board. One is out of business, and one is at an address where every single building on the block has been levelled. So, Monday's first stop was to be MacDonalds, which had served me so well in Caen. When I got back to the campsite on Sunday evening, I discovered my electric cable had been stolen, so my second goal was to replace that. Note to self - do not leave cable plugged in at the campsite while driving around town. Finally, on Monday morning my gas ran out. No, not the petrol, the cooking gas. British campervans use odd, old-fashioned 16 Amp sockets, and a different kind of gas than the Camping Gaz used here. Turns out MacDonalds here has no internet, and it took me all morning to find and fix my gas and electric. I finally found an internet place run by (of all things) the City of St. Malo. Of course I found it at 12:00, just as it was closing until 1:30 while everyone had lunch. Was I impatient? No, I am the soul of calm. By the end of that day, I felt I had done a day's work, though of course none of it was the kind I get paid for.
Tuesday was a work day, and the afternoon was just walking locally, where I found a very typical high street. There seem to be very few chain shops here, and the local shops all still have the name of the trade, Boulangerie, Charcutiere and so on, just like high streets do in story books. I bought a "Pain de Corsairs" which is a sort of vintage loaf, white but with unbleached flour and shaped like an Italian loaf. Very nice. St. Malo's fame and fortune was based on the Corsairs, who were pirates or hero explorers depending on where you find your history books, just like Sir Francis Drake. That Jacques Cartier who 'discovered' most of Canada and founded Montreal was from St. Malo, and is as well statued up here as in Ottawa.
Wednesday was the highlight touristically, travelling to the town of Dinan and to Mont St. Michel. Dinan endeared itself to me immediately by having a Cybercafe which (1) did not close for lunch, and (2) did WiFi, so I could use my laptop. Thus cheered up and knowing that there were no major crises waiting for me to deal with, I could enjoy the old town.
As well as being a thriving small town, Dinan has incredibly well-preserved
old buildings, right in the middle of the town.
I like that they paint them in beiges and browns, rather than the unnatural-looking
black and white you mostly see in England.
Clearly the street plan has
not been changed in 1000 years, and one of the entertainments is to watch
all the drivers get completely confused. They let people park anywhere, and
have very few lines on the road. I'm guessing smart locals just park outside
town and walk, like in Stratford.
My French has improved markedly with being here - I find I can actually ask for food and get what I wanted. Of course, it helps if there is a label with the name on it, and I have been known to point a little, but at least I am talking.
Onward, then, down the river and over a bit, to Mont St. Michel. It arises
from the misty plain, looking quite unreal and fairy-taleish.
It looks from outside like Tolkein's Minas Tirith, with terraced streets
leading up to the gothic abbey at the top of the hill.
And when you get inside, the impression is stronger still, with the internal
gateways...
... and little courtyards framing the steep path and steps up to the top.
Of course, everyone has to climb to the top, but what you see there is not
actually as impressive as the town which leads to it. It is just a very
large disused abbey, kept in shape for the tourists, but not used for
anything. On the outside it is impressive,
...but inside it is just big empty rooms.
It lacks the advantage of St. Michaels Mount in Cornwall having been someone's
home for a dozen generations, and unlike places like Warwick Castle it hasn't
been populated with historical artifacts to make it look occupied. Wax monks,
people, that's what you need.
The place was well provided with visitors, though, including of course the
ubiquitous Japanese with their cameras. This one seemed to be doing a little
more than photographing her cousin with a monument in the background, though.
Serious camera, too.
The parking area had a special section for 'Camping Cars', and my van
felt right at home, even if a bit on the small side compared to most there
Part of the reason for the special section is that it is a metre or so higher,
whereas the car park can be inundated by the tide. There were signs suggesting
a good time to remove your car. They charged 4e for day parking, and 8e for overnight.
Short trip to this seaside town the other side of the river today (Thursday 18th). I confess I took the van instead of public transport again - there is no service to the campsite here, so it's a question of parking somewhere, and once you're on the road it's as easy to drive to where you are going.
Dinard has a big sign in the middle of town saying "Newquay, 226 miles" and that really sums it up. If you like Newquay, you'll like Dinard, and if not, I can perfectly well understand. Like all out-of-season resorts, it had a certain windswept atmosphere, and the beach and surrounding cliffs are pretty, but it is dominated by seasidey shops and hotels. I bought some vin de pays in the supermarket (1.58E !) and headed back to write this.
Off the to Loire Valley tomorrow...
