Our final ride. And wouldn’t you know it, there’s a Voies Verte between Dinan and St Malo.
We had to walk our bikes out of Dinan as the cobbled lane was so steep and precarious. Especially bad with cleats on. But we made it down to the port. It’s a port town because of the river Rance which goes all the way out to the coast at St Malo. As we started our ride, April somehow got it in her head that she could take a boat down the river, but luckily that thought seemed to float away.
Exquisite morning riding along the river. Not much development right outside of Dinan. Just us and the river. One could easily imagine Robin Hood jumping out of the trees at any moment.
But it didn’t last, after a few miles the VV curved inland to follow the old train tracks. Even for me, a confirmed VV heretic, the route was rich and rewarding. Rolling countryside. Farms and fields. Tiny towns. The abandoned railways stations. The VV was in good shape, a harder surface than the previous VV so we rolled along at a pretty good clip. As we were headed to the coast it was more downhill than uphill.
We were heading for Dinard which was west of St Malo. The two towns are linked by a bridge across the bay created from the river Vance and the ocean. The guidebooks suggested taking the 10 minute ferry ride across rather than crossing the busy bridge. Dinard was supposed to a be sophisticated Brit vacation spot.
Sure enough Dinard was over the top. Those Brit aristocrats sure weren’t afraid of worrying “how the poor people were doing today“. There’s the most amazing collection of stone manors along the coast that we had ever seen. Clearly each owner/structure aimed to outdo its neighbor. Fantastic turrets, domes, arches, tile work, gorgeous slate patterns. Really magnificent. Monster houses, 4-5 stories high, all with huge windows looking out to the sea. Incredibly steep roof lines to give them even more height. This all happened in the late 1800s and Dinard became known as the Nice of the North.
April declared a deep, intimate relationship with the area immediately. She felt she had been there before. It was in her blood. Ahh these anglophiles; good thing there’s some strong Greek peasant blood added to the mix.
We checked out the beach, I suggested a café for lunch, April didn’t like it so we pressed on. Near the main beach April suggested a Brit looking type of place. I rode past it, she stopped, I came back and read the menu and vetoed it cause the food looked terrible and no ambience/view. So now we’re both put out, thinking the other vetoed our personal choices. But since I had vetoed last I was at a slight strategic disadvantage. Her veto seems to have been forgotten, the pressure was now on me to make sure we hit a good café and soon. (Yes unfortunately after 3 weeks on the road 24/7, this behavior seems normal). We ride a few blocks, nothing, I’m starting to sweat a little now, then we turn down the road to the harbor, voila!, a delightful little café, beautiful view out to the harbor, an outside table opens up as we pull in! Turns out the food is superb, April has a nice baked cod dish, I have the special - fried red mullet? Some nice wine, warm sun, we linger over tea. We’re the last ones to leave. Better to be lucky than good!
We catch the ferry after a 10 minute wait. Hit St Malo. And it seems PACKED! There’s an old walled city, We’re wandering around with our bikes. Both uncomfortable as there are too many people. We exit to find the Tourist Info place. We find that our hotel is away from the old city. Hmm. But we end up in a purely local’s beach, great little hotel. Sea view. Clean. 3 fantastic locals seafood restaurants within 2 blocks. We hit the jackpot here. Shower. A late afternoon beer in the smokey café. Then a nice seafood dinner. Then hit the sack. Great day. We’re loving this location in St Malo.
BTW - I got another showing of April’s bug bites at the end of the day.
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