Food, surf and history on the West Coast of France
After leaving the beautiful Pyrenees I felt like I was on the final leg and all roads led back to the UK... but first a final spot of exploring along the stunning coast and through the bustling towns and villages of the Western France before I boarded the ferry from Roscoff to Plymouth.
When you think of the west coast of France, you think warm summer days, rolling surf, crystal clear water and seafood. Well that was pretty accurate bar the last few days as I approached Rochefort and it tipped it down.
My first stop was the Silver Coast. I had found an Aire right on the beach in the pretty seaside town of Messanges, and it cost only a few euros a night with electricity (I love French Aires); the perfect spot for some down time from mountain explorations.
The journey here took me along the pretty coastal roads of the Silver Coast, with its laidback vibe, surfer dudes, people cruising around on fat bikes and skateboards, quaint roadside cafes and sand creating a fine blanket of beige across the street. I was excited to get settled and get my toes in that soft sand.
The Aire was super busy but I squeezed Buttercup in, grabbed my swimsuit and walked the few hundred yards to the beach... like most French beaches there was a surf school, a lovely restaurant, a bar, outdoor showers (yippee!) and a bevy of red budgie smuggler clad lifeguards ready to pounce should you get in distress.
The sand was warm between my toes despite the time of day and the beach still sported plenty of people enjoying the early evening sun and postcard perfect sea. The water was every shade of blue and the sky looked as if clouds and rain were a thing never seen in these parts. Just across the road from this never ending stretch of sand there are towering pine forests interspersed with deep blue lagoons and epic sand dunes. Unfortunately there had been a bad fire just before I arrived in the area around Dune Du Pilat, so sand boarding was out for this trip, and on my drive a few days later I could see signs of the devastation this wildfire had created; it was very sad.
Back on the beach I headed in for a swim. The water was warm, a far cry from the lakes and rivers of the Pyrenees, and as I swam and floated in the salty embrace, I looked back at all the amazing experiences I had already had on this short trip around France. I got out and lay on my towel to dry out under the last rays of sun before enjoying a shower and drink from the small bar (which was heaving!). I headed back to Buttercup, cooked up some dinner to eat outside and got chatting to my new neighbours all about vans, travel and France.
After a lovely lie in and fresh croissants for breakfast, I headed back to the beach with my bodyboard, book and snacks; a day of beaching (new word) was ahead of me. I settled in to my little spot near the water but far enough away that I wouldn't wake up from a snooze underwater, read my book, did some word puzzles, had a swim and just chillaxed. Later the surf was building so I decided it was time for a little surf. I stood watching the water for about half an hour to decide the best and safest spot to enter and after deciding I'd found the best break I waded in to the warm water. However at this same exact moment Mother Nature decided to have a fit and a totally out of nowhere huge dragging set of crashing waves appeared. There was nowhere to hide and I fought with the washing machine white water as it crashed on my head over and over again, turning me upside down and inside out, not knowing the way up. Eventually I broke the water gasping for breath and started trying to return to the beach, but the suction was too strong and I was being pulled over and back and not getting any closer to my required destination... the bodyboard was gone my swimsuit pulled off by the force of the water and I crawled grasping at the sand until I finally made it from the waves clutches.
A lovely chap ran down the beach to recover my board that had washed up a few hundred meters away and I grappled back into my swimsuit still in shock at what had happened. I wasn't the only one caught unaware by this freak set, and I saw other swimmers and surfers in a similar position crawling on to the beach panting and thanking God they were alive.
I went back to my little spot to find it had gone, the huge wave had literally swept up on to the beach over 25meters higher than the tide line wiping everything away in its wake. Thankfully a very kind couple had grabbed my kit when the wave approached and pulled it higher up on the beach with their stuff and nothing was not lost bar my sunglasses (my keys were in a surf safe on the van) - thank goodness or I'd been stranded with no phone again!
After the excitement and too much adrenaline, I went for a shower to remove the sand now secreted everywhere it shouldn't be and have a cup of tea... I am British after all!
Only a few days left in France, so I toddled on north to the fishing town of Port des Barques.
The weather had turned and the skies were grey, the roads sodden and giant puddles were forming around the Aire. However, this wasn't going to stop me from exploring; so I grabbed my rain coat, hopped on my bike and took a ride across the 1km tidal causeway, La Passe aux Bœufs, to île Madame.
This tiny island lies at the mouth of the Charente River and hosts the dominating grey Fort built in the 18th Century to participate in the defence system of the Rochefort Arsenal. Surrounding the Fort is a diverse landscape, with marshlands and arable land creating a unique natural environment were wildlife thrives. The shores are dotted with the super picturesque carrelets; small wooden huts on stilts, each with a square-shaped pulley-operated net called a filet carré; which gives these beautiful little structures their name. Against the greys, greens and blues of the ocean, the carrelets stand proud in their bright colours and unique form silhouetted against the sky and sea that wraps around them, and the scene of each one makes a great subject for painting and photography, each a little unique and special.
You can cycle or walk right around the island and as well as a restaurant, there are many spots to sit and enjoy a picnic in the French style - wine, bread, cheese, seafood and a tablecloth of course!
Unfortunately the restaurant on the island was closed, so no fresh seafood on this trip, and the tide was turning so I needed to get a move on before I became stranded in the rain on this lovely island.
I whizzed back to Port des Barques and found a small oyster shack open, where locals propped up the small wooden serving hatch eating the delicious plump fruits of the sea straight from their pearly shells. I bought 5 oysters, had them shucked, and headed back to Buttercup to enjoy their sweet salty meatiness with a cold glass of fizz and some bread. Ahhhh French food...nom nom nom.
The next morning the rain had subsided and I continued on towards La Rochelle and my final location before the ferry. The drive was a nightmare and I ended up on a toll road by accident, which nearly bankrupted me and was very stressful in a right hand drive vehicle on my own. After a few harsh words, taking out a loan, to pay the toll and buy the most expensive coffee in France, I arrived in Nantes where I proceeded to circle the city twice searching for a launderette and food shop, nearly ran over a cyclist, and ended up stuffing a McDonalds down my throat as I was so hungry... by the time I arrived at my final Aire near Saint Goazec I was exhausted and ready for a drink and a lie down!
Saint Goazec sits in the Finistère department of Brittany and is surrounded by woodland, lush green fields, the stunning red brick Château de Trévarez, and the Montagnes Noires (Black Mountains). Not far from the small peaceful Aire (which had showers!) lies a section of the Nantes-Brest Canal. Originally initiated by Napoleon in 1804 to provide a safe inland link between the two largest military ports of the French Atlantic front, the canal weaves it's way 385km, through 238 locks, across Brittany. It apparently passes through some breathtaking scenery and based just on this small area I explored I can imagine it would be worth exploring the rest!
After my drink, shower and lie in, I hopped on my bike once more and headed out to explore... I free wheeled down the hill and over a little bridge to join the canal path towards Châteauneuf-du-Faou. This was a really pretty stretch of canal and I stopped and said 'bonjour' to fishermen, other cyclists and lots of cute dogs out for a stroll. The rain was on and off but it didn't matter, the views were wonderful and the riding easy going. I passed locks, weirs and small footbridges spanning the canal and saw plenty of birdlife as I peddled by. The canal is so well designed with clever access for kayakers to descend the weirs and navigate through the locks, without having to portage; it would be a great boating adventure for sure.
After a short ride I arrived at Châteauneuf-du-Faou, had a drink and a snack before crossing the canal again on the Old King's Bridge and riding along quiet lanes through more pretty countryside before the long slog up to the châteaux and finally back to the Aire for my last night in France.
For my last meal I decided to go all out, and cooked the biggest and most tender ribeye steak ever, washed down with some very nice red wine and a nibble of cheese, I felt my stomach had fully embraced the French way of life!
I left early and drove the final 50 odd miles to Roscoff to catch the ferry departing later that day. I was ahead of time, so called in to Carantec for a little stroll over the causeway to the Île Callot. This is a beautiful place to visit, go for a stroll and enjoy the local food. Birds swooped around hunting for fresh shellfish and local families with their weaved baskets hooked over their arms dug for cockles in the low tide mud flats. The air was warm and the little seafood restaurants were busy as tourists and locals flooded in for a bowl of Moules Marinière, crispy fresh bread and a cool glass of wine. Alas it was time for me to head off, and as I said 'au revoir' to France and it's pretty coastal villages, forests, mountains and lakes, and boarded the ferry home, all I could think was 'what an adventure; I'll definitely be back'.
I hope you enjoyed my little French road trip; thank you for reading and next I'll be back soon exploring the wee islands of the Hebrides.
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