It is a given that I cannot head to Brittany without my runners or hiking boots in the bag. F and his buddy C are always looking for trails they can walk, and there are certainly plenty of them around Brest and its environs. Admittedly, I quite like these picturesque chemins côtiers too, it’s just that I’m often trailing behind them because (1) I stop all the time to take photos, and (2) the boys have longer steps that my short legs can’t quite catch up with.
The trail from the Fort du Dellec to the Pointe du Petit Minou (how cute are the names?) is a relatively short one compared to most that we do. It take about two hours to do a return trip, and C often even jogs here. If there is such a lovely jogging space nearer to our place, perhaps I could be motivated to run more often too. Or not. :p
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When in Brittany, go to the crêperie. Actually, even if not in Brittany, if there is a good crêperie nearby, seriously, go. My favourite buckwheat galette is one filled with either andouille or andouillette (and we’re not talking about pork sausage here but good ol’ chitterlings!), preferably with an egg and mustard creme. This surprises quite a few people, especially concerned crêperie owners who wonder if I knew what I had ordered. They are usually happier with my sweet crêpe choice: salted butter caramel, with or without apple pieces.
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We woke up on a Saturday morning to reasonable cloud cover but looked set to hold steadily. After a quick trip to the supermarket nearby to get our picnic supplies, we headed south-west of Brest to Camaret-sur-Mer. A 4.5-hours hike around this part of Crozon peninsula was our activity of the day. That, and getting back to Brest in time for a lovely dinner at a super sushi restaurant in town. This is how every excursion should be planned; something active, followed by something delicious as a reward for the hard work put in. ;)
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We were back in Brittany, greeted by sunshine and what promised to be quite an active weekend. Because it was (sort of) summer, we were obviously obliged to go to the beach. We checked out a couple of them: one where the boys attempted to surf – C picked up this new hobby while in Brazil, and F was trying it out for the first time – in the rather chilly water of less than 20°C (brrrrr!), and one where I put on my baby step to swimming in the ocean, ahead of our vacation in Montenegro.
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We were not going to be deterred from exploring Bretagne Nord just because the weather was less than cooperative. The initial plan to select a spot for a 4-5 hours trek had to be abandoned though. Our new route was charted: first to Pointe St Mathieu, then over to Le Conquet, and a spin at Plouarzel before coming back to Brest, in time for dinner at a local crêperie.
Pointe St Mathieu is the site of an old abbey of St Mathieu-de-Fine-Terre (thus giving the name to the region – Finistère) besides a lighthouse dated back to 1800s that today forms part of a network of famous lighthouses of the Brittany’s coastline. The abbey, founded in the 6th century, was said to once hold the skull of Saint Matthew and a village sprung up around it, flourishing thanks to the right to exploit the gains from salvaging wrecks. Little trace of the village and its then-needed fortifications remain.
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A looong overdue post, and I hope our friends who hosted us didn’t think I had not enjoyed my trip to Brest, given the lack of related blog entries like it should. I am not entirely sure why I procrastinated; the photos were processed reasonably promptly after our return and we did have a lovely weekend despite the soaking we’d got – it was November and in Brittany afterall.
For some reason, I’ve always thought of Brest as being “north” when it is justifiably “west”. In fact, it lies at a latitude southern to that of Paris, a fact I didn’t think was true until I consulted a map properly. The city is an important military port and was pretty much destroyed during the World War II. The city was quickly rebuilt but the buildings very much utilitarian in nature. Sadly, this also means there isn’t a lot of typical Breton charm to be found here.
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It feels like we’ve suddenly plunged into winter this week. It started wet, then windy, followed by arctic chill for a couple of days, and back into wet and windy weekend. Not too much fun for my friend who was playing tourist in the city. And as if wet and windy in Paris was not bad enough, F and I headed up northwest to Brest to visit our friends at the weekend. Oh, gosh, it has been a long time since I was that soaked!
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28 Oct: Here’s a fun fact: in Paris, while there are “no entry” sign aplenty, there is none of “stop”. Another fun fact: many of the “no entry” sign has been used as canvases for street art. I’ve started coming across “Kiss Kiss” (that’s my nickname for it) on a rather regular basis since my return from southeast Asia, so I wonder if this is the current batch of no-entry-art. Previous batches have been “The Handyman” (man carrying a bar), and “Witch Hunt” (man in the stocks).
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