backtrack 22

You needn't be fearful: I am not intending to drone on more than I should in my description of getting the miles between Vaucluse and The Blighted Isle clocked up. No three post spectacular this time, even though we enjoyed the transit north, it went well; in no small measure thanks to my care in planning our route back, but more so by Mme Melling's intelligent and creative disregard for said route when and where necessary, or when deemed desirable. 

Just in case you were not lucky enough to see the plan for coming back prior to its realisation, you'd better take a shufty at it now. You'll soon get the skeleton of an idea of what was entertained  by getting down your Michelin Atlas of France (A4 wiro bound naturally) – you will wonder at the originality of our use of the French road network to provide us with a relatively low-traffic-frequency-but-nevertheless-scenic progress to the coast in the north, the ferry and safe return to Bullsmead Court.

Notwithstanding the modest distance proposed for our departure day we made our characteristic early start, saving our breakfast appointment for St Victor. Alas! The coffee was like gripe water, and the croissants somewhat stodgy. I suppose we couldn't expect a third time lucky petit déj. Unimaginatively we had decided to simply retrace our steps from the southward journey in June, at least as far as Millau. We enjoyed it y'see. This time the side road to Vissec was just too tempting and we took it.

Ah! Vissec. Buried deep in the hills almost in the riverbed of the Vis, dry in the summer. Has its own cirque right next to the famous Cirque de Navacelles. Michelin p302. It had not changed a jot. That's the meadow in the village at the top of this post, in case you were wondering; it flowers up a treat in spring.

Almost primitive, we rented a run down but delightfully creaky maison (see left) and simply soaked up the nightingales, the lime blossom, the walks and the rushing waters where the river re-emerged. En famille. 2010. But only a week. Son-and-heir agrees that was one of the best rentals in our extensive rental history… I'm welling up… the village filled us with delight once again, quite delectable, I'm taking five to have a quick look at the album that covered that jolly…

(later……) Get me to show you m'snaps of Vissec and around. Limestone and water perfection. Flowers, cherries, butterflies, sheep in huge passing flocks, light, thundering waterfalls etc. But this is neither the time or the place. Oh my oh my. The Cévennes… what are they like!

We lunched at Nant. It was not a satisfactory experience. True, there was no rain but neither was there a plat du jour. We resignedly ate rubbery omlettes with overcooked chips – there was little else on offer it being Monday. And there were tourists. I mean, folk on holiday. With children! I assume most of them fast on Mondays. We did not linger. Arrival at Millau was far too early – we sat by the pool a while, it was hot still but cooler than Vaucluse at least. I feared the clammer of families after lights out in the hotel – so spacious and empty on our way down. We ate in town. Good. We returned to our accommodation and all except reception was quiet, although full to capacity. No complaints on that score. End of day one. Just 160 miles achieved. Tick! Got to pull our finger out now…

Three hundred and forty-five miles on our second day in transit. A bit more than is our Mode Juste. Atypically, we utilised the A75 autoroute (we've done it once before, check it out on the route attached herewith if your device and eyesight are up to it) and we did it under and through the first real cloud cover we'd seen in weeks. Breakfast as far north as St Eloy-les-Mines where we shivered! And then on and on through rather charming and often quite empty farmlands, until Amboise was achieved, and we had the chance to return to a favourite cave at Francueil to secure half a dozen bottles of Côt and tut-tut at the typographical dog's breakfast thereat, backtrack to Blérè to admire the Cher, a favourite and well frequented river in the past, with Montgolfier overall,  and to take our supper repast. Thus endeth the second day. Tick!!

Day three was Amboise to Yffiniac. Are you still with me? Nothing better to do? Oh well, read on if you have the stamina, but it gets no better I'm afraid. Two-hundred-and-forty-two-miles to the coast. Lovely weather, Good breakfast at Neuille-Pont-Pierre, stonking good baguettes at a lakeside picnic spot (no others in attendance, I do so hate to eat my sandwich in public). A good drive (my route once more proving top class) and affording us time upon arrival to perambulate coastwise and secure the only unbooked table in a really top flight creperie. Tick again! 

Where is this Yffiniac you may be asking. Well it is adjacent to St Brieuc, on the Brittany north coast… p78 Michelin. Oh and the legendary Bernard Hinault, the last Frenchman to win the Tour-de-France, in 1987 I think – he was born here. He won Le Tour five times in fact. Nicknamed the Badger. The hotel was notable for not sporting air-con. But a distant view of the sea over roof tops assuaged us. Quiet too, our side of the block.

Well that's about it. The last few miles to Roscoff were taken at an easy pace, but with a diversion to Cairn de Barnenez where we did an hour or so walking round the headland opposite the Île Noire. Glorious windless cloudless and rather warm. It made us peckish…

So then a dash to the Surcouf restaurant in Roscoff for what we hoped would be yet another lovely fish lunch, but horrors! We got the table, and we got our first courses. But after that? Non! Problems in the cuisine I fear, much apologising (but no gratis glass of vino I noticed). We had to leave and catch the boat. No matter: I was happy with my dozen oysters and Mme Melling her pot of shrimps. 

Instead, we ate a bit more on the Armorique which glided across the millpond sea and allowed us to sleep off our fishy starters on the top deck in the sun or in the calm of our day cabin. Oh yes. And this pleasant return ended well too, with a delay of only twenty minutes before we got going, out of the muddle of Plymouth, driving on the left (mostly) and getting back to HQ before total black out. Success!