november exit part the second

 

MONTSOREAU THEN, not for breakfast this time, but still acquiring provender for the lunch break we might want to take. You'll have soaked up the first epistle concerning our return to the motherland and will be impatient to complete the compelling saga from where it left off in part the first… and that was at Montsoreau. You will recall that Mme Melling and your author are now intent on engaging with the roads that flank the wondrous Loire, carried high on the left and right bank levées that have been built for miles and miles to modify the river's previous tendencies to bring wide-spread flooding to the region. We are fond of these roads as they give a continuing and ever-changing view of the waters flowing west, amongst islands, silty beds and wooded reaches, punctuated by riverside settlements, grand châteaux and bridges of varying antiquity, both rail and road. We never tire of it, well not often. The levée sections usually benefit from a 70kmph speed restriction. Naturally this is generally ignored by the native drivers but at least it gives us tourist types the excuse to travel more sedately, even if in doing so one raises the blood pressure of the former somewhat. There are weight restrictions too so one is not so likely to get trapped behind a 42 tonne articulated. We are travelling now from Chinon to the location of our last hotel, situated on the outskirts of St Malo, from where we are forced to take ship, given the conclusion of ferry links for the year from distant Roscoff.   

Perhaps it is time, at this juncture, for those who want the comprehensive picture this journal embraces, to reproduce the itinerary we are mostly following, excepting overshoots at junctions, routes barrées and diversions to take in supplementary views etc. You don't need to commit it to memory, or absorb it at all if you don't want to, in which case the text continues in this vein, below…

Sharp-eyed readers of this exposé will note that the above descriptor does not include any mention of Montjean-sur-Loire where we stop to visit, at last, the hilltop church for its fine views and historical importance. We are way past Saumur by now you see. It is an indication of our familiarity with this section that it doesn't list the places we need to pass through hereabouts, sorry. It is raining, by the way.  

The church is not ancient: it is built on the shattered stump of a former château, reduced to ruin by The Revolution (1789) but it is none the worse for that. It is set about with a splendid collection of photographic enlargements illustrating the town's history and association with the river. Great views from up here of the much troubled but crucial river crossing, the current bridge being the fourth, the post-war rebuild, as you'd expect. We aren't passing over it today. Down at river level we find a sweeping quay with associated craft and we brave the precipitation to make arty atmospheric capital of the scene.

I'm sorry if I got your hopes up regarding the Loire, but from this point onwards we are assailed by drizzle rather a lot and what with over familiarity and wanting to get on, well we simply don't stop again or take more snaps. We are relentless in fact until we have the Rennes ring road behind us and we arrive on the quayside at Dinan. 

The question is, can we get a lunch at this late hour? Well of course we can as this is Dinan, and even out of season it sports one or more all-day open bistrots, with its aspirations to quaintness thereby encouraging visitors all the year round. We hold the Montsoreau sandwich et quiche in reserve and set ourselves down in a crêperie. Our first restaurant stop-off on our last day of travel, bar one. Fair tucker too. With cidre bouché, natch, we are in Brittany now.

After settling the addition we stroll around a bit, (it is pretty nippy I have to tell you) getting some air so to speak, then complete this leg by driving on north to Dinard where our final hotel is situated at La Richardais with views of La Rance (but not from our room of course, we overlook the car park). Hey! This Kyriad is quite nice – convenient for ferries. No adjacent eateries, cafés or restos, it has to be said – but we've got this sandwich. Mme Melling doesn't want her quiche and we've had enough driving thank you very much, all of one hundred and ninety miles today, Chinon to La Richardais. So we'll watch some more BBC News to keep us sober… 

The travelling is over. Now we have a rest day, prior to boarding our barque for an overnight crossing to Portsmouth, from whence we will slog back the one hundred and fifty one miles to Bullsmead Villas. I can report that the load hasn't really shifted within the motor although throughout the trek back to northern climes there have had to be occasional  adjustments made to the position of La Carte Géologique de la France, the 3000 piece jigsaw we are conveying (in one piece) and its associated Geological Map of The British Isles, 1000 piece jigsaw (in one piece and framed) – as they tend to slide to the side if we corner too swiftly or too suddenly – you know how it is. 

We are not just going to loaf about 'til sailing time, kicking our heels, dear me no. We aspire to coastal communion! The 'rest' day is somewhat notional, therefore…

I have a faint conviction that I might just get a sighting of a phare I've not eyeballed as yet, but I prove to be completely at sea on this as the tower in question is much further west than our today's general area of exploration extends to. Instead, we sample some headlands, bays and beaches west of St Malo. We start with a croissant breakfast in La Richardais, then a walk down to the lagoon that backs up behind the EDF barrage (fed by La Rance) after which, by diverse lanes and tracks we head in the general direction of St Cast-le-Guildo. Mary has identified a restaurant that might be open, it gets some goodish reviews: it is indeed trading and we eat there. 

Quite good, if somewhat expensive I feel; fish and stuff you know. Not sure it justifies any particular accolade other than being open and serving food. The parked up electric scooter between two tables at the back rather lowers the tone…  

St Cast is quite a handsome seaside resort, I have to say, but I'd struggle with it in season. 

Most of all though today I have enjoyed the light and the sea from the two specific headlands we visited. We've kept out of St Malo but as the light begins to decline we know we must bite the proverbial and get on down to the port's embarkation area. Somehow or other we've driven seventy-two miles since leaving the hotel…. 

And there the return of the natives comes to an end, pretty much. The crossing is calm and peaceful, our cabin as far forward as is possible so quieter than most – after gratis chocolat chaud and pots of tea. Upon arrival in Portsmouth we are off the boat and through passport control in half an hour of docking, then striving to make headway through the downpours and ever present roadworks that characterise the motorway betwixt Portsmouth and Southampton: the reason we'd rather not come this way, or one of the reasons, there are others. 

Notwithstanding, we arrive back at HQ at about 12.30, I think it was, in sunnier conditions now but somewhat brass monkey. Breakfastless, > sigh < – we are in Britain again and they don't do that sort of thing (or at least what we have come to prefer) between here and there. Merde! When will one taste a croissant worthy of the name again one wonders? Back in the yard the auto needs to be relieved of its load and places found for it all. As well as this post needing to be completed for my expectant public. Heck, no pressure then.

That's it, consider yourself told – albeit just the bare bones. And as I said at the outset, you'll get a much better idea of what transpired if you refer to Mary's Le Blog, because this offering, dear reader, is over-verbose and arguably verging on tosh! Just ask my family members if you don't believe me . . .  I tried to warn you. 

This was the one hundred and seventy-third post 

in the 'Driving on the Right' blog.