Biking Day 25

• Length ridden: 106 km
• Ascent: 530 meters
• Rating: 8.0 out of 10 - very nice day, except the beginning
• Highlights: Yet again, the hospitality of the French people - how the gentleman on his bike shared his secret
• Lowlight: Better signs of the bike roads, - or just build better bike roads, pleeeeze
• Map of the day

In the morning, at around 6:30, I met the exception to the rule - namely a French person who was outright unfriendly. I went back to the campground, where the night receptionist had been so helpful - and this time it was a lady. I then asked whether I could charge my phone, she refused that rather unfriendly. Then I asked for some water, as I had been thirsty since I had woken up and both my bottles were empty - no luck with that either.

Not far was a pastry shop, still closed, but preparing for the morning pain au chocolat/croissant/baguette rush, I managed to get at least some waster, which was handed with a smile. Then I rode around and saw a gentleman who was just putting out the flags in front of his B&B to attract prospective clients, first his dog greeted me with an outburst joy, then he was very welcoming in taking over my cable salad - two chargers with their plugs, one charging my phone, the other my smart phone. I told him I would be back in an hour.

So I returned to my tent, packed it, cleaned up as much as I could, then went back to the pastry shop, which now had opened up and had a good breakfast outside. Not a single person went by without wishing me "bon appetit". Finally, I picked up my cable masterpiece and I started the day at 8 am.

That morning was probably one of the worst biking experiences not only on this trip, but of the last few years. The area surrounding MSM is an agricultural one, so it was a network of small farm roads, extremely boring. There were large signs next to the road, showing how these interwoven tiny roads nested into each other. Google Maps failed to do a good job here: it gave me pretty much incorrect directions, e.g. once it led me to a place where about a dozen signs proclaimed it to be a private road, so if someone is so vehement in claiming the road as his (or hers), it is better advised to turn around. Another time, I saw a bike path with no pavement, but Google told me to continue on the main road. It made a huge half-circle and brought me back to the bike road to continue riding on it. I do like to shower in the morning, it is my morning coffee and I had no chance to do so. To top, it was a grey, dull weather. In the morning, I had serious doubts about the soundness of my mind, why do I voluntarily sit on a saddle in such a boring place. BTW, I do reach such low points on pretty much every ride of mine...you just have to get over it and things do tend to get better.

This horror lasted only an hour and now I was back in business, the road finally reaching the coast. There was a small, pretty town called Cherrueix where I had to get a coffee (something I rarely do) and have a breakfast reinforcement (it is not so rarely that I do that). There was a seafood market, with a few customers loitering around. Without realizing, I had entered Brittany, which turned out to be the nicest part of my trip - just the start of it was a tough one.

The area around this small settlement had a number of pretty sights, a windmill, a wonderful reed-roofed building and yet another church.

Here something funny happened. I was riding next to the coast and decided to take the car road, vs. the bike road running parallel to it, as the former one was paved, so made the riding easier. There was a young guy on the bike road, with less baggage, on a road bike and I overtook him. This seemed to trouble him, as he sped up, cut over to the paved road and overtook me and . Oh, many thanks, I thought, he would be now a perfect shield for the head wind, so I started coasting behind him. This apparently frustrated him (not sure why) and tried speeding up, but with all the headwind, it cost him a lot of energy and for me behind him, it was just a breeze (literally). He was shaking his head in disagreement - apparently he was unaware of the unwritten "code of conduct" amongst bikers that coasting is anything but impolite. So I made at least ten kilometers in a fast pace, thanks to this somewhat unhappy fellow.

It was so that I got to Saint-Malo, where I visited a McDo for lunch. After lunch and some grocery shopping (during which I was charging my stuff at McDo), I started off towards the west, where there was a 2-by-2 highway leading to bridge over an inlet. There was no bike road whatsoever and when the first large lorry rode by within a 2,5-centimeter distance, I thought it would be better to stop and reconsider my options. My friend Google showed a large, 25-kilometer detour around the inlet, I said no freaking way. I somehow tried getting close to the bridge without being a voluntary organ spender, but all the roads I tried veered off in a different direction. I flagged down an elderly gentleman on his road bike, he even spoke some German. He said he was from that town and after having listened to me complaining about the detour, he told me he had a secret and I should follow him - but he warned it would be a tough one. We rode through some residential area towards the water and there was a steep forest path, with steps and roots. He told me if I can shove my bike up, then descend, it will take me to the mouth of the bridge, from where there is a bike path. I thanked him a lot for making this detour and sharing me his secret and he was gone. Once again, I really appreciated the hospitality of the French (except the lady that morning at the camp, but again, this was an exception that enforces the rule).

An elderly Swiss couple showed up on their loaded bikes, they just got retired and were on a 3-month ride to Santiago de Compostela - they were just as lost and confused as I was. When I showed them the forest path where I had planned to go up on , they shook their heads and said they would rather do the 25-km detour, well, if you have 3 months time, it does not matter. Not that I was under a major time pressure - still, I started this backbreaking, exhausting climb - I was loudly swearing at the architect, for not having planned a bike path to the bridge. I did manage to reach the top, which was just a notch closer than I thought, then a similar difficult path led downhill - and finally I made it.

It turned out that this bridge, was actually an electricity dam, called Rance Tidal Power Station which uses the tide waters to generate power - there are only a few of these on the world. It was opened in 1966 and back then, biking was not so popular. At least the dam itself had a path, not the road linking to it. The views of the surroundings were beautiful, I felt a bit like in Dalmatia.

When I had crossed, I realized I was so busy with the crossing, that I completely forgot about visiting Saint-Malo itself, which looks like a touristic highlight - oh well, a reason to return. Anytime to Brittany!

There were some nice churches in Ploubalay and Trégon, both small places with wonderful architecture.

I then spotted a castle, called Castle of the Guildo, but decided not to visit it. Notice how low the tide is...some of the boats are literally stranded.

It was now that I saw signs leading to a "Grand Site de France". What is this? According to the web, in order to be warranted the prestigious label “Grand Site de France”, the territory has to satisfy three main criteria : the landscape, the heritage and the socio-economic concerns of the “Grand Site”. OK, let us go an visit it, I thought. There were actually two caps called Frehel and Cap d`Erquy . This is a peninsula surrounded by cliffs and the terrain is covered by moorland and marches. My timing could not haver been better, there were not many people and the setting sun offered beautiful views of the surroundings. Oh, and this was a stage in the 2011 Tour de France.

At Fréhel, there were two lighthouses, from the 17th century and from 1950, the latter one was open to climb for €3 and the view from it was amazing. After the lighthouse, I locked my bike and went on a shorter hike.

The hike turned out to be a lot longer than I planned, about an hour long, as I missed a turn back to the parking lot and I did not want to cross over the delicate vegetation. When I finally got back to the main road, I was at least two kilometers from where my bike was parked. A car came, I hitchhiked and after some hesitation, the stopped, picked me up and drove me back to where I started from. Merci!

There was a small chapel I rode by and then arrived to a campground called Camping des Hautes Grees. I´ll be honest - I have no recollection of it whatsoever, but then I was pretty tired, riding a bit over 100 kilometers that day.