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The view from our balcony. That little bike-and-pedestrian-only path ran around the southern tip of the peninsula and was constantly in use, people running and jogging and walking and biking from morning to evening. A very healthy place here.

Next up on our exploration of Brittany was Quiberon, a seaside resort on a peninsula sticking down into the Bay of Biscay some 125 miles south of Roscoff. We stayed at a Sofitel overlooking the sea, a little over a mile south of the little town. In the 19th century the town was a center of sardine fishing and packing, but when first a railroad connected it to the rest of France in the late 19th century and then it was classified as a health resort in 1924, tourism took off. Today the town lives and breathes off of tourism, primarily, they say, French tourists.

We spent three nights here and initially I was skeptical about the whole “seaside resort” thing. I mean, the temperature never got above 65 degrees and it’s the middle of July! But then I got into the vibe a little and I started to understand. And on our last day, with the sun out and the temperature soaring into the mid-60s I spent a couple hours at the beach and loved it. By late afternoon the beach was getting crowded and lots of people were out swimming notwithstanding the fact that water was seriously cold.

My beach, before people started arriving in the late afternoon. You can see a bunch of sailboats on the horizon, apparently learning to sail. My time there made me very happy.

A highlight of our little adventure here was that we rented bikes from the hotel and could quickly (and for Mark importantly, painlessly) get into town for meals or out to the beaches. And the great thing is that because it stays light so late we could bike to dinner at 8:00 or even 8:30, have a great meal, and bike home while it was still daylight.

A little beach time, some reading, some exercise, and a lot of food. On our first lunch we discovered a small … network? chain? family? … of local restaurants. The lunch was so good we ended up visiting two of the other places in their network and they were all really good; the owners have something figured out. And service? At lunch Mark accidentally dropped his wedding ring and it fell through a small crack into an inaccessible crawl space. So the owner called a handyman of some sort who, after we left, pulled up enough of the boards on the patio where we were sitting to recover the ring. That’s service!

The old port

A cute house

This really feels like the Brittany seashore, huh?

Ultimately it was all about the food. This was lunch at Le Bistrot du Port.

Here I am with a wonderful tuna appetizer at Brume, another of our favorite restaurants

Mark was very excited to discover that the Sofitel included oysters in its breakfast buffet. On the second morning he realized that he didn’t really like oysters in the morning.

Dining al fresco at Brume

Just one of almost innumerable great dishes. And this was just lunch!

Here I am in the Bay of Biscay. The air temperature is 64 degrees but the water is no where near that warm. Very refreshing indeed!

The 16th century church Eglise Notre-Dame de Croaz Batz overlooks Roscoff and its harbor

Our next stop, Roscoff, is on the northern coast of Finistère (roughly, “end of the earth”), the westernmost department of Brittany. Finistère has the longest coastline of any department in mainland France, and it’s the kind of rugged, moody coast that we expected of Brittany. Dramatic tides sweep in and out of these beaches. Seagulls squawk and swoop above. And the long summer days produce big flowers and lush foliage.

The weather is also pretty rough and moody. Cool, gloomy mornings have been yielding to a little sun by mid-day and high temperatures in the low 60s. It’s really not bad touring weather at all, but it’s just not what we expected in mid-July. My mostly summer wardrobe has been packed away for over two weeks in favor of the jeans and sweaters I brought in case it got cold.

The pretty town of Roscoff

Choucroute de la mer — sauerkraut with a pile of local seafood

We went past the church just as a wedding party was entering

And there go the final entrants

Our hotel had a restaurant with a Michelin star. We dressed up a bit and enjoyed a fancier meal than usual.

We don’t have dessert very often. Jim went full on strawberries.

The days are long here, so we had to stay up pretty late to catch the Bastille Day fireworks. It’s even still a bit light, though it’s well after 11:00 pm.

We made one momentous decision here about the rest of our summer in France. We had expected to take a drive outside of Roscoff to see a coastal area known as the Pink Granite Coast. But once we’ve arrived here and parked our car, we can’t stand the thought of getting back into it until we have to. A similar thing happened earlier in Dinard when we wanted to do a day trip to Dinan. We ended up taking an hour-long bus ride to Dinan instead of a half-hour drive with our own car. We so much more enjoy the adventure and relaxation of taking a train or a bus someplace than the ordeal or driving and parking.

We already have plans to return the car we have in a few more days. Then we’d planned to pick up another one 10 days later for the entire month of August. After discussing how much we loathe dealing with the car, we canceled our month-long reservation for August. I think we can swing trains and buses for most of that period, even though it will sometimes add a few hours here and there. We’ll probably need a car for a week or so in the French Alps, but we are thrilled to have knocked off a few weeks of car travel!

Unable to bring ourselves to drive to the Pink Granite Coast, we instead decided to take a ferry to Ile de Batz, just off the coast of Roscoff for the day. The island is home to just 449 residents and is free of motorized vehicles. I was mildly worried about the amount of walking we’d have to do to get around the island, since my knees have degenerated to such a state that walking is very painful. (Not to fear, readers, I have knee replacements scheduled for this fall; this is my last major trip with messed up knees!) But quickly after we arrived we walked past a bike rental place. It is amazing how joyful it is for me to see places from a bicycle. You move a little faster than walking, and it is totally pain free for me.

This turned out to be a perfect day. The was the Brittany that we were seeking — the rugged coastlines, hardy and industrious people, houses and fences made of stone, perfectly manicured gardens. Followed by a lovely lunch at a friendly cafe overlooking the beach.

Our summer in France has been wonderful so far, and it promises to get even better — with less car and more bikes, buses, and trains. That suits us very well.

One of many beautiful stone houses on Ile de Batz

Biking past the lighthouse on Ile de Batz

What a beautiful place

This is how I love to see places — pain free!

Jim looks out at the beach, contemplating whether this is the right take to take a swim in the icy cold La Manche (known on the other side as the English Channel)

He goes for it!

We stayed at the Grand Hotel Dinard, still the grand dame of the city. Here I am, late at night and jacketed to protect from the cold, but perfectly happy on our balcony.

After our two very quick stops in Normandy we crossed into Brittany where we plan to spend two weeks. The first stop was three nights in Dinard, on what is known as the Emerald Coast. It became a prime destination for British and even American aristocrats in the late 19th century and is still considered one of the primier seaside resorts in all of France. A town of just a tad under 10,000 people, the population soars to some 40,000 in the summer.

Now I have to admit, I didn’t quite get it. The town is nice, and indeed has some great architecture presumably as a result of those 19th century aristocrats, but it didn’t seem like such a great seaside resort. First, well, we’ve been to Sardinia’s Emerald Coast and it was way more beautiful and beachy. Second, because the tides in this part of the world are just enormous, for large stretches of the day the tide is too low for swimming. And finally, it’s just too darned cold! Here we are in mid-July and the temperature never goes above maybe the mid-60s. I looked it up and that’s somewhat unusual; the average daily high in July is 72 degrees. That would have been pleasant, but that’s hardly “Oh god, I need to go to the beach!” kind of weather.

The walls of Saint-Malo as we approached on the Corsair

So we didn’t go to the beach in Dinard. There was, however, plenty to do. First off, on arrival we caught a boat across the bay to Saint-Malo, Brittany’s most touristed locale. It is a beautiful old walled city on the English Channel that got wealthy off of pirating. Apparently that was a good business back in the day. (And amusingly, the boat that takes you across from Dinar to Saint-Malo is called the Corsair, an archaic word for pirate. They’re not ashamed of their past!) At any rate, the old city was almost totally destroyed by Allied bombing in 1944, something a tourist like me would be totally unaware of, insofar as it was rebuilt during the 1950s. Honestly, to me it looked like it was all old and historic, when in fact lots of it is no older than I am! At any rate it’s a great place to walk around for a couple of hours and then to sit down to a beautiful lunch. There were lots and lots of probably not-so-good touristy places, but we managed to discover L’Entracte, a lovely and creative place on a bit of a side street. Very pleasant!

Some of the delightful historic buildings in Dinan

The next day was a little laid back, getting some laundry and gym time in, but then our last full day in Dinard we took a local bus an hour south to Dinan. We have a rental car and certainly could have driven but we don’t like driving and hate having to figure out parking in a new town. The bus, on the other hand was simple, cheap, and comfy. Dinan it turns out is an absolutely stunning old walled town above the Rance River. We didn’t do a lot there besides walking around, gawping at the really old buildings and streets and all that. We walked down – and down and down and down – to the river front, where we had a relaxing cup of coffee, before heading back up – and up and up and up – to the main town for lunch. Then back on the bus to Dinard.

So much for three nights in Dinard. Next up, a couple hours west to Roskoff.

Mark up on the ramparts protecting Saint-Malo. It turns out ramparts are great for protecting from ancient armies but not so good at protecting from bombs.

And our charming lunch in Saint-Malo

Here we are in Saint-Malo. A tragic story about that shirt I’m wearing. I bought it in Hawaii and loved it. Just a few hours later I was walking to the gym in Dinard, looking at my map, when some bush reached out and snagged the shirt, ripping a big tear in the shoulder. Sad!

A big highlight of our stay was the view from our little balcony overlooking the Rance estuary

Another view from the balcony. Because we’re still so far north and now pretty far west in the time zone, it stays light well past 10 PM. This picture was under natural light at 10:15 PM.

Perhaps the most complete and perfect rainbow ever

Our room, the balcony, and the estuary

We didn’t get any great pictures, but the northern section of the town, along the coast, had a bunch of beautiful old stone houses and mansions

Some of the “feel” of Dinard

As always, food is a big deal on our travels, like this watermelon gazpacho…

…and these razor clams

Mark liked the way I fit in so well with the hydrangea

A small section of the long walk down from Dinan’s town center to the river, all lined with ancient buildings

Mark at lunch in Dinan. To be honest I liked the setting better than the food…

Just a beautiful street scape in Dinard

Charming beauty everywhere you turn around here

One last view from the balcony