Regarder les vagues à Saint-Malo
a fellow pedestrian stops to watch a wave roll towards us
I’m almost embarrassed to admit that I wasn’t really aware of Saint-Malo until sometime last year, when I saw it featured on a cooking show I like (Luke Nguyen’s France) and then shortly thereafter in this very cool video. I had long wanted to explore Brittany, and the timing seemed to work out to see some very big waves, so Saint-Malo became the first weekend trip I nailed down in my France travel plans. Ironic considering I knew so little about it, and even more-so once I realized how disappointed I was that it might not happen.
But that’s why we have the internet and, some very last-minute rental car reservations later, my weekend in Saint-Malo was back on. I woke up bright and early on Friday to pick up my car, a little Peugeot 208, and what awaited me outside but a massive rainbow over Dijon that felt like a good omen. I made my peace with the extra cost, though quite a substantial extra cost it was between gas and toll roads. But in hindsight, this weekend would not have been possible without a car in so many ways that I can’t pretend it wasn’t worth it.
a rainbow over Dijon Place Darcy
I stopped a few times on my way up north, mostly when I noticed that my directions were taking me right past Chartres and I couldn’t resist stopping through for a peak at the famous cathedral I’d been wanting to see for 20 years now. I will definitely be going back for a closer look: Notre Dame de Chartres quite literally took my breath away, and the town itself was almost sickeningly charming.
After that, it was a nearly straight shot up to Saint-Malo. It had been raining for hours by the time I got to my bed & breakfast, and I was desperate to settle in and get some food so I ventured into Intra-Muro (inside the walls) Saint-Malo to pick up a pizza and bring it back to my adorable little attic room, It turned out to be one of the best pizza’s I’ve ever had and went nicely with the rest of a bottle of wine that I’d brought with me.
I got up early the next day and started with an incredible breakfast provided by my hotel, which was the dreamiest place I’ve stayed thus far. The breakfast spread: a basket of fresh bread, homemade apple cake, a small dish of cheese, orange juice, plenty of coffee, and even some honey made by the owner himself from his own bees. I was stuffed by the end, and it all came with the room. The owner even leant me an umbrella when I mentioned that mine was broken. Highly, highly recommend La Haute Flourie if you find yourself in Saint-Malo, though be forewarned that the wifi sucks.
I ventured into Saint-Malo to explore and quickly found the stretch of beach I’d been looking for. Not sure who convinced me that the houses along the shore were fake because they most certainly are real and occupied, which must be wild for those who live in them. The tides were only moderately high, so I took a leisurely stroll and a few photos until it was time to decide what to do with the rest of my afternoon.
I settled on checking out Dinan, a medieval village about half an hour away that my hosts recommended. It was so peaceful and charming that I didn’t even mind the accidental hike I took up the steep cobblestone streets to the basilica on the hill, and the view made it worth it anyway.
Back to Saint-Malo for dinner. I had hoped to see those high tides, but I was fed some bad tide info and ended up closer to low tide instead so the only crashing waves were far away across a wide swath of sand. I had also hoped to stop by the famous Maison du Beurre Bordier for their gourmet butter, but it was packed so I decided to wait until the next morning. I ended up at Brasserie O de Mer for phenomenal seared scallops and risotto. A perfect end to a truly great day.
Sunday was another early start, since I had so much to pack into my last day before hitting the road back to Dijon. One last breakfast at La Haute Flourie, followed by one last trip into Saint-Malo for my last chance at both the butter and those high tides. I’m happy to report that I lucked out on both: the butter shop was basically empty, and the tides! I can’t even describe what it felt like to watch the waves crash up onto the sidewalk mere inches from my feet, especially after seeing just how far out they were the evening before. I took so many photos, found a few shells that had been washed ashore overnight, and nearly got hit with water once or twice. That’s an experience that I won’t soon forget.
I headed to Mont Saint Michel after, though I didn’t stay long—I’ve been before (on my first trip to France over a decade ago) and, though much has changed including a lot of smart improvements like a better bridge and moving the car park so you don’t risk getting stuck on the island when the tides are high, the abbey itself and the crush of tourists seemed much the same. Plus I needed to get back on the road, so I bought a galette (that no less than three seagulls dive-bombed trying to steal) and headed back to my adopted home in the Côte d’Or.
The drive through farmland and tiny old villages was lovely, and it helped that French autoroutes are super easy to navigate; I even kind of like roundabouts. I was glad for the practice too, since I have another road trip planned in a few weeks (thankfully much shorter than this one). There were however several harrowing moments towards the end: I nearly ran out of gas about 20km from the nearest station, then I couldn’t find anywhere in Dijon to top off my tank before I returned the car, and I got lost multiple times just trying to stop at home to drop off my stuff. Needless to say, as thankful as I was for the car, I was also thankful to drop it off and walk home.
Thus my too-short weekend in Brittany came to a close. I would go back in a heartbeat, since I barely scratched the surface of exploring the area. There is so much more there to see and do, and I could probably spend a whole day just watching the waves on Sillon Beach alone. And now I know that I will definitely need a car.
