Vaucluse Dreamer

After the stresses of yesterday’s trip to Portsmouth Day 1 – What! no train?, we fell into an anxiety hangover and a deep sleep on the overnight ferry to Saint Malo, waking at 5, about an hour before the ship’s alarm went off.

It gave us time to finally put to bed the worries that we’d had and to start looking at what today held for us, as we watched the first signs of France come into view through our cabin’s porthole.

We have said from the start that this ride is more about enjoying getting from A to B, than being a particular challenge, as we’ve cycled from Devon to Provence before, Saddlebag of Memories… A few days on… What we learned so I know that I can ride that distance. It’s also about simply enjoying the ride and taking each day as it comes, rather than having a set place to get to, which added a lot of anxiety to last year’s ride home from Madrid Saddlebag of Memories Madrid to Sète Day 4.. Pastrana to Beteta.

So as we chatted, we decided to start slowly, by taking a walk around the walls of Saint Malo, revisiting our memories from early holidays together, when each break away from work,  would start with us strolling the ramparts and enjoying the views.

Memories like that are so key to who we are and our lives together that it wouldn’t have felt right, simply to cycle out of the city without a backward glance.

After breakfast

And watching the ferry dock in the picturesque harbour, we waited for what felt like a lifetime, to be called to collect our bikes and head off the boat.

Once through passport control, we turned left, away from the stream of cars leaving the port, and headed to the ‘Intra Muros’ for a walk down memory lane. It was just as we remembered it, with beautiful views across the jumble of rooftops of this stunning little place..

And the picturesque coastline constantly by our side as we ambled around the top of the walls, accompanied by early-morning joggers.

It was a lovely way to pass an hour, with our noses filled with the scent of the sea and reliving so many memories at the same time.

There was though, the matter of the day’s ride ahead, so we couldn’t stop for any longer and set off out of the town towards the next place on our list, the striking Tour Solidor, not much more than a stone’s throw from the Port.

It was somewhere that we have wanted to visit for a long time, as many years ago ( probably over 30), we bought a pair of paintings in a brocante shop in Vannes. Both were views of Saint Malo and one was of the Tour Solidor. We had seen the in the window over lunchtime, and waited for the shop to open again so that we could buy them. We have loved them ever since.

So before really getting underway, we took a detour to visit the tower and to try to see exactly where the artist had sat, whilst doing the painting.

As we arrived, we found the area just in front of the tower was filled with a local Brocante market, so what else could we do, but park the bikes up and take an amble around the stalls, wishing that we had some way of carrying some of the ‘treasures’ that we found.

But we had to be sensible and however much we could have found space for more blue-glass soda syphons , some paintings, and even an old iron ‘Toad of Toad Hall’, which would have looked great in the garden, we passed them by and simply sat with coffee for a while, watching the view.

It was already 11am and we had ridden about 3km, which really wasn’t going to get us back to Provence, so after coffee, we hopped back on the bikes and headed out of Saint Malo, taking quiet roads that took us along the Rance river towards our next stop, Dinan.

It was a beautiful ride, along quiet roads, where we saw more bikes than cars, with lovely views across the Estuary..

Passing some beautiful old manor houses and buldings too. It was overcast, but mild and we enjoyed pottering along, simply turning the pedals and admiring the views.

Eventually, we crossed the Rance on an old bridge and continued along the other side, arriving in the Port de Dinan just before lunch.

This was another of the places that we wanted to stop at, as Dinan had been one of the towns that we had visited on our honeymoon, back in 1989. We had also spent other weekends there, most memorably over the Fete des Remparts, which was a wonderful event, with the narrow streets of the medieval old town filled with straw, noise and entertainment.

So we arrived in the Port de Dinan, a tad surprised at just how much busier it is now, than when we last visited, parked the bikes and took a walk along the river…

Munching baguettes and a particularly buttery and delicious Kouign-Amann for lunch, as we watched people pass by.

It was then that we looked at the weather, as the skes were getting darker and we could smell rain in the air. It wasn’t good

And after yesterday, the last thing we fancied doing today was setting up a tent in a thunderstorm and spending the evening getting wet. As I mentioned, this is all about enjoying the ride and being flexible if we need to be, so we bit the bullet and found a B&B near to where we had planned to camp, booking it for the night and changing our route to head there instead.

As we cycled out of the old Port, the weather forecast fell into place, as the rain started to fall. We went from being dry, to soaked in minutes and even my sandals filled with water, as we pedalled on towards our evening’s stop.

It was going to be a good test of the waterproofing on the panniers, and also of our rain-jackets that have never had to be worn to keep us dry.

I covered my phone in a plastic bag, so that I could continue to navigate, and we cycled on through quiet villages and along empty roads that felt like cycle paths. Smooth ribbons of tarmac that stretched into the distance.

At one point, we though the rain had stopped, so pulled in and stripped our coats off, only to have to stop less than 5 minutes later, when the heavens opened again.

It was certainly wet, but it was also very beautiful and I would love to return on a nicer day and cycle the delightful roads that we rode along.

There were so many stunning old buildings, many built of cob, with their ancient walls open to the elements,  and others that looked as if they had stepped from the pages of a Fairytale..

We followed the new route, arriving in the pretty town of Montfort sur Meu at 4pm, after just under 75km of pedalling, relishing the hot shower and space to dry our soggy clothes that would have proved impossible in the tent.

A little video from the ride here

After warming up and drying off, we took a walk around this beautiful little town, which in the past had been a centre for the local tanneries.

And we’ll be heading on again tomorrow, towards Blain, where we have booked a camp site for the night. So come hell or high water, tomorrow night we’ll be putting the tent up for the first time.

And yes, we have brought the poles!

All in all a great first day of cycling again in France, and we’ll look forward to doing it all again tomorrow.