Tuesday 13 August 2024
A road trip to Mont Saint-Michel and the area around there today has been planned and an early start is needed to avoid as much summer traffic as possible. The morning here is foggy, low 20’s and signs of overnight rain, which is a small relief from the past days of 30+C temperatures. Long pants and a light jumper are packed and we head off.
Mont Saint-Michel is probably one of the most iconic images of a Benedictine abbey, perched atop a small island, across a tidal affected beach on Normandy’s southern border with Brittany.
There is no access to the island apart from a shuttle bus or walking from the carpark, 2.5kms from the island, across a causeway. Some idea of what awaits us, comes as we find a carpark in the by now (10.00 am) half filled, 4,000-car capacity, car park. Glad we came early. Then as we walk to the shuttle bus station, we see the 3.5 km long line of human ants, creeping their way, either walking to the island or lining up for one of the many shuttle buses. Flashy reckons there are 20,000 people. He does like to calculate things. You know, the volume of a human divided into the volume of a cylinder of air along the length of the route.
We discover from Google, that Mont Saint-Michel receives almost 3 million visitors annually, most in the summer and Flashy reckons, most of the bastards are here today! Probably close to 100,000 people coming and going all day. Mostly going there this morning. The view of the abbey in the distance and the colourful column of human ants, walking the 30 minutes to the island, was, in Flashy’s view, the best spectacle of the day.
Lady P suggested we walk to
the abbey. Flashy of course, readily agreed. It was flat and he was following
the derriere of a nice French girl. On the way, we spied groups of people out
on the sand – it was low tide, with a guide practicing 'getting out of quicksand' and off on the salt flats were the famous pré-salé sheep. These are sheep
raised in the salt marsh fields in front of Mont St Michel. The sheep graze on
the high salinity grasses giving their meat a distinctive taste, they say. On
the ‘to try’ list!
As we got closer to the abbey, the incredible engineering of the
structure from granite was indeed awe inspiring. Granite is pretty hard. Harder
than the sandstone and limestone used in chateaux in southern France and it was
cut and shaped by hand. Up close, you can still see the chisel marks.
But the visit was ruined by the number of tourists. So bad was it,
that Flashy contemplated jumping off the rampart, only you couldn’t climb up
because of the shoulder to shoulder humans. If you ever want an example of over-tourism,
here it is in spades.
We found an escape route and bussed back to the carpark after an
hour. They were still arriving in droves! Been there; done that; took the
photo. Don’t bother! Unless, as we discussed, you go in winter; stay on the
island in one of the hotels; get up early in the morning and wander about before
the tourists arrive; then leave quickly.
By now it was hot again and we needed hydration. So, off to
Saint Malo, a short drive away and a beautiful seaside town. We were again
reminded of the fact it was mid-August in France. So many people and cars.
However, we persisted and found an underground car park and walked into the
walled, old city. When you say old here, you mean thousand(s) of years.
Exploring the old city was fun and while crowded, not too bad. A nice lunch at
an Italian restaurant where we had Rose to accompany 112 mussels (of course,
Flashy counted them) and a nice piece of sea bream for Lady P.
While in the old city, we heard some Irish music and saw a large
crowd listening to an energetic trio called the ‘Green Lads.’ One on a clarinet
and tin whistle, another bloke on a fiddle and, well she certainly wasn’t a ‘lad’
but playing another fiddle. Perhaps her name was ‘Bob.’ (Black Adder reference).
Later on, while looking from the sparsely crowded ramparts, we heard
and saw a lone piper. Following the dulcet tones, we found a person playing the
bagpipes. Flashy needed a closer look as he/she had on a girl’s top, hair up in
a bun and long feminine fingers. Big ugly feet, though. These days! Who the
hell knows?
Time to head home. So, we head south to Dinan, another nice ‘old
city’ where we eventually find a car park and wander around the old part of
town. There were many steps up and down.
Home eventually at nearly 8 pm, so a long day of sightseeing. We
have a simple cheese and crackers for dinner and sample a couple of bottles of
the famous Brittany/Normandy cider. Pretty bloody average, we decide. But, when
in Rome…
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