I had not thought, when we left for our weekend in Brittany, that we would ended up in Morlaix, even if just for a couple of hours. It is one of those small French town that I’ve heard of but never really curious enough to Google, never mind planning a visit. Still, since we have to go through the area on our way back to Brest from Saint Samson anyway, why not take a look, right?
This medieval town certainly looks the part. Cobblestone streets, winding alleys, steep stairs, brightly-painted half-timbered houses, old churches and a viaduct all come together to form a picturesque historic centre amidst the often grey Breton skies. I also learned that its port was once of great importance, given the pirates were busy raiding from here, not to mention there were bustling linen and tobacco trades going. There are some rather distinguished buildings lining the port area.
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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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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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Our few days of roaming around Morbihan came quickly to a close, and we found ourselves driving back to my in-laws to drop their car back (they had kindly lent us one for the trip). En route, we made a couple more quick stops, in the small towns of Locmariaquer and La Roche Bernard.
Locmariaquer is well-known for the largest menhir to be erected but sadly this broken menhir of Er Grah now lies on the ground in four pieces, adjacent to a famous dolmen, Table des Marchands. We debated visiting the site but given the lacklustre guided tour that morning at Carnac, my fellow road-trippers were less enthusiastic about it. Instead, we wandered around the port area for a little bit, had a very late lunch, and set off again.
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Our August travel in Bretagne Sud had taken us to the quaint village of Saint Cado, the Bay of Biscay for Barre d’Étel and Gâvres, and the peninsula of Quiberon. However, we simply cannot drive past Erdeven and Carnac without visiting at least one of the several megalithic sites the region is famous for!
We strategically searched for a chambre d’hôte that is close to my friend’s wedding reception yet within reach of interesting spots to sightsee. An online search led me to the B&B of Kerzerho where we were very well looked after by Dominique throughout our stay. Frederic and I were given a room with a balcony where we could have breakfast on sunny mornings, and both ours as well as our friends’ rooms were tastefully decorated and immaculately cleaned. Moreover, Dominique is an active member of the local tourism board and therefore has plenty of tips to offer.
Anyway, I digress.
A short walk away from our B&B is the megalithic site of Erdeven itself! Comprised of over 1,000 standing and 5,000 lying stones, this site also known as Kerzerho alignment is the most significant site after the three main ones in Carnac. From the main road passing through Erdeven, some of these standing stones – menhirs – are clearly visible. One needs to only follow the path to enjoy a couple of hours of walk among the menhirs, spot the praying table, and marvel at the rare remaining dolmens.
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What a glorious day it was, when we drove our way down to Quiberon. A former island in the Atlantic ocean until the 11th century, when formation of a tombolo changed its landscape and connected the island to the mainland, creating a peninsula with an isthmus that sports a width of mere 22m at its narrowest point.
The key to truly enjoy the coastal front of the Côte Sauvage is to avoid the chock-a-block main road, particularly during the summer holiday season, that goes through St-Pierre-Quiberon down to Quiberon. Instead, on passing the tombolo and immediately on arrival of the former island, take a right turn in the direction of Portivy. From there, it’s a straight drive along the coast. Better still, park the car and take a long, invigorating walk while admiring the wild coast which sees waves after waves crashing in.
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