En Bretagne

The sun rises in Perros-Guirec at 8:20. (In Paris it will have been just short of 8 today). This means that when I wake up, I can still see the pinky peach colors of the predawn light.

And by the time I am out of the shower, a band of gold has hit the waters of the English Channel.

Notable is the fact that there is sunshine. That's a surprise! None was expected in the days leading up to the weekend. It's as if Brittany wants me to forget that the last few trips here have been cold and wet. Well now, the day is opening up very good possibilities.

Breakfast first.

It's nice enough. Big windows, great views (but then, I have that in my room). There is, however that bigger hotel vibe. There are in fact 45 rooms at the Agapa, spread over those 3 buildings. (By comparison, the Baume in Paris is tiny at 35, and the Hotel Mont Blanc in Chamonix is at 40.) It feels smaller because my building is indeed small, but there are clearly enough rooms to accommodate a seminar group here. So the breakfast room is large and the buffet -- a classic buffet. A little of this a little of that. I search out the Brittany stuff, and it is there: Far Breton -- a custardy cake with prunes, brioche with jam from their best local bakery. They also have great seeded breads which pair well with Brittany salted butter! And finally -- a classic: buckwheat honey, which I love. All told -- it's nice.

Around me -- that seminar group. French. And a sprinkling of older couples of all genders -- mostly French, some British. This feels nice -- like I've entered a place that draws on those who live nearby.

 

The tug to be lazy is strong, but the tug to walk the trail while the weather holds is stronger.

To understand the walk, you have to visualize a map of Brittany. To me, it's sort of like an image of your left hand, with five stubby fingers (St Malo, which starts off Brittany after leaving behind Normandy, is at the wrist). Perros-Guirec lies at the tip of the thumb. (Finistere -- the very western most tip, is like the middle finger sticking out at the ocean, though Bretons would never say fuck you to the sea -- they know better than to feel superior to its might.) My walk would circumnavigate the thumb. Not too long -- about 10 kilometers (a little over 6 miles), though I mix it up a little, because in the end, after walking the shoreline, I do not retrace my steps. I meander through the middle of the thumb.

Off I go!

Down the steps first. Noticing the flowers:

(anemonies are everywhere)

Toward the beach.

Do you see that blue sky?? 

Boats on the water. The sailing school has kids out doing figure eights out there. At the same time, a group of grownups seems to be doing aerobics in the sea. In wet suits.

(I'm guessing these are the moms of the sailing kids)

Sea gulls sunbathing... wait, do birds sunbathe?

Bathing huts and catamarans for rent. Ed, where are you?!

 

 

Looking back now from the GR 34 trail: a truly remarkable golden glow on the wet sand.

Looking forward now: the rugged coastline begins.

What stands out? The pink boulders! Oh, those huge boulders! However did they pile up like this?

An unbelievable landscape!

There are scattered groups, or pairs of people. Not mostly French, all French. A weekend walk in the sunshine. Locals maybe? They're not taking pictures and they're chatting up a storm, so probably. Wouldn't you be out on a day like this? Bonjour! Bonjour!   

What's this? A 17th century poudriere -- where they stored powder for the cannons.

A house, a lighthouse, and a boulder that looks like it landed from pink Mars.

No idea what this next building is. An old chapel maybe?

It's not totally quiet. There is the wind. There is the occasional French chatterbox. And there are these two, talking to each other (my bird identifier tells me they're European robins):

(A nice French group offers to take this photo)

And now I am at the other side of the thumb. No longer in Perros-Guirec. This is the Plage de Saint-Guirec. Quiet. Empty. Well, except for this guy.

(I love that they make all the beaches here free of smoking.

Just a little further is my final coastal destination: the Port of Ploumanac'h. Lots of pleasure boats, probably staying put for the winter. Some fishing boats too. It's a completely protected little bay.

The port itself is totally quiet. But there is one restaurant, and quite a number of French families in it. I'm not especially hungry, but I could use some water and maybe I should go for a plate of local cheeses... and a Kouign Amann! 

 

(This one comes with ice cream...)

I'm curious about the landscape away from the sea. This is a chance to admire some of the distinctive Breton houses. Either stone, or white with blue shutters... They're lovely to look at. So I veer away from the coast and try to find my way along the crisscrossed roads, determined to not once look at my phone or google maps.

I do find this Sculpture Park -- these are in fact made from the local pink granite.

And I come across a country school...

And an old windmill, about which I know nothing...

And yes, the Brittany houses are lovely. And I should mention this: Brittany isn't an especially warm region of France, but nor is it cold thanks to the Gulf Stream. This is why you see the occasional palm...

Though mostly, it is a region of blue hydrangeas and roses and pink daisies.

(neighbors, chatting)

(winds blowing)

(I wonder where I am...)

(Oh! my beach is that way! Down I go...)

So this is where the local populace has been hanging out! Well who could blame them!)

I am ready to take a rest in my room up those steps! I've been out and about for nearly five hours!

In the evening, I have a reservation at a local restaurant downtown. I wrote them, they wrote back. All is set. Here's the place:

Except that it's closed.

They must have decided to go away at the last minute, because a handwritten sign tells me that they're gone until the end of next week. Well great... What now? It's starting to rain...

I dont want a fancy meal at the hotel today, but perhaps that's the best alternative on a Saturday evening? 

No it's not. They're fully booked. But they call down to La Plage and they have a table for me. Great! I can try some of their fish dishes. Even if does mean going down those steps again. And back up afterwards. In the rain.

(the restaurant is a scant 12 minute walk... but all the way down there, by the beach...)

 

 

But the dinner is wonderful. Just what I like: fresh food, with no mistakes. The fish, a Saint Pierre (which is, I believe, a John Dory), is not undercooked or overcooked. The veggies are still crisp. It's all delicious!

 

I have a dessert of ice cream. They do ice cream really well here -- this one is raspberry and vanilla with bits of meringue, and of course caramel.

How can you not smile? Despite the rain, or maybe because it's Brittany and its raining?

with love...