Day 1 - French fancies

I don’t know why the French don’t just build a massive wall around France every Sunday night with the words “Ferme Lundi” written in big bold letters, just to avoid any potential confusion. Anyway, we’ll get to that.

The day started well enough. Sort of. The wonderful tones of Dremmwel’s Troellen piped in to my cabin and in so doing gently woke me from the comfort of my bed. 

That gentle awakening soon livened up when I mistook the on / off lever for the temperature lever in the shower and took half a layer of skin off in the process…

Last night’s 3 course feast plus half bottle of Chablis had assisted a good nights rest, and I was ready for adventure.

I knew from the off that the first thing I’d need to sort would be my front pannier. In my attempt to remove it last night on the ferry I’d inadvertently snapped the arguably pathetic cable tie which was securing it to my front forks. Fortunately, I had anticipated this. Deep in my tool kit was a jubilee clip and a hand made bodge to which the pannier rack would - I reckoned - fit like a treat. Half an hour of fiddling and cursing, and we had a fix. Mile 0, 1 mechanical. It could be a long 2 weeks.

The road out of St Malo took me along the northern coastline through wonderful villages and beaches but facing a stiff headwind made life tough going. 

45km in I turned into the sleepy village of Saint-Brolade, a beautiful place but with very little sign of life. Fortunately Le Refuge was open so I stopped for a well earned coffee in the square overlooking the Eglyse Saint Brendan. 

Out of the wind the temperature soon rose towards 20 degrees. Perfect start to the trip. Passing Mont St Michel, the road turned inland. That is to say it started going uphill. Passing through more sleepy villages, my thoughts turned towards a lunch stop. “The next village”, I thought to myself. However there was nothing doing. All shops, bars, tabacs and restaurants were well and truly “ferme”.

Continuing to the next village, the same story. Plenty of potential, nothing open. 

Eventually I stumbled across the only open business in a 20 km radius, that is to say a hairdressers. I wandered in and in my best pigeon French:

“Is there a cafe nearby?”

“Non”

A patisserie?

“Non”

Boulangerie?

“Non”

Any shop at all which might serve food?

“Non”

Great, thanks very much, have a good day.

By this time my bidons were both empty and I was getting hungry. I was managing to keep my sugar levels topped up by scoffing jelly babies but The sun continued to bear down and I knew I needed food and water. 

Passing another village, and another, and another still the trend of “ferme Lundi” continued until finally I rolled into Fougeres and found a sign to the Intermarche. It was open! 

I didn’t fancy eating my highly prized purchase in the car park so I carried on and found a beautiful botanical gardens, the “Jardin du val Nancon”, named after the river which eased its way through the park. Sat under the shade of the trees I demolished my lunch, had a rest and prepared myself for the final 30km. Note to self next Monday…

The final 30km was reasonably uneventful and easy to navigate along a single road through a few more sleepy villages. The road meandered up & down into a few small river valleys before splendidly landing in Vitre. The town looks stunning. I stopped for a quick reccee before heading to a campsite around 2km out of town. Get the tent up, quick shower then back to explore…