Patricias holidays!

Reminiscences of a Breton Biker

1995 - my introduction to Breton Bikes was the Loire valley tour in
September.  I had never riden a bike with gears before (a fact I did not
disclose to Geoff in advance), so had to be shown how to use them.
However, my years of cycling to the shops and to work on my old army
bike (yes, it is one of the old green ones!) had given me the stamina to
keep going.  Days of long stretches of road, running between sunflower
fields, picnics by the roadside, cooking on the campsite.  Goats cheese
- straight from the farm - melons rillettes and rillons (wonderful pork
stuff, for those who don't know), all washed down with (how many bottles
was it, Geoff?) of Rosé d'Anjou, Chinon, Bourgueil;  not to mention all
those demi de pression or Pelforth bruns on the road!  The mushroom
cave, where we bought kilos of chestnut mushrooms, which we later fried
up with garlic and butter;  the chateaux, Ussé, Chinon, Langeais....

Ah yes! Langeais, where my french penfriend came to meet me, bringing a
large tent, with pillows and mattress, picnic table and chairs, car,
proper cooker.  I dined in state and slept in luxury, and crime of
crimes, went out in the car!  

However, 2 days later it was back to basics and back on the road with
the gang.  We saw the huge columns of steam rising from the 4 centrales
of the nuclear power station at Chinon.  And all the time the Loire with
its sandbanks, islands and inlets, shining blue flowed on first on our
left, then on our right, as we made our way back west to our starting
point.  

The weather changed, rain came, Touraine seemed more autumnal. Then one
day near the end a gale blew against which we all struggled all day,
spread along the route, finally straggling in to the camp site at
Pouancé exhausted and soaked, in ones, twos or threes.  But the tents
were all got up and made safe.

There were other things - the snail farm, the Abbaye de Fonteyrard
(spelling ?), where Richard the Lionheart still lies, but it would all
take too long.... and of course, there was also the biking!

When I got home, after using Geoff's brilliant gear, I set about getting
a decent bike.  Having experienced the joys of seeing places by bike, I
explored East Anglia this way, with a collegue in the Spring fo 96 and
from time to time I go down to Sussex to ride on the downs and round
Ashdown Forest. 

1996 - the Dordogne, with Breton Bikes.  This was wonderful, in spite of
all those 3 km hills!  The long autumn mornings, St Emilion, Lascaux,
Bergerac Montbazillac - and Sarlat - which has to be the heaven where
all gourmands go! 

1997 in the Spring I brought my sister to do the first week of the
season in Brittany.  We set off with the map and route towards the north
coast, spending 2 nights each at St Quay-Portrieux and at the campsite
facing the Ile de Bréhat.  I fell in love with Brittany!  Other parts of
France are wonderful, but there is a quiet charm and friendliness in all
the places we went in Brittany, which is unique.  

I specially remember the little church at Plouha.  It is famous for its
mural of the 'Danse macabre' - (a meditation of the fact that death is a
great leveller), but where the guardienne pointed out to us that the
little feet, peaking out from under the virgin Mary's robes, were clad
in galoshes, the tradition fisherfolk wear of the locality, and that the
roof of the church renovated last century is constructed like an
upturned boat.  After that we checked the roofs and virgin statues in
many other churches and found each statue neatly shod in galoshes,
sheltered by many upturned boats.

Autumn 97 - The Loire, or bits of it we didn't do last time!  We did a
sort of hexagone all around Tours.  This was the wettest soggiest
cycling trip I have ever had!  But the chateaux were wonderful!  I have
pictures and pictures of them.  My favourite was Valencay.  I
particularly enjoyed the group on this trip - and I have to mention in
particular our American component.  How much nicer it is to be greeted
in the morning, as I stick my head out of my tent and stretch, to a cry
of "Good morning, Princess..." (thanks, Tom!), than the normal English
comment on "What time do you think this is? or the like. 

But I have to back to Brittany;  there is so much of it I haven't seen,
and one day I will trace more careful the lines of pilgrimage running
through it, which later join up with the main trunk pilgimage routes to
Compostelle.

Patricia McCarthy.