Biking Day 27

• Length ridden: 116 km
• Ascent: 920 meters
• Rating: 10 out of 10 - great day!
• Highlights: Pretty much the entire day was a highlight - but if I had to chose, it was the abbey, Binic and Tréguier
• Lowlight: what does the word "lowlight" mean?
• Map of the day

It was only after 8:30 that I had left pleasant room, backtracked the 4 kilometers to Pordic and soon thereafter I got to a very scenic town called Binic, with the motto "A little port with a lot of charm". True.

It was here that I tried a local pastry specialty, called kouignoù-amann (I remembered it as Queen-Anne, a Seattle neighborhood) a sweet bread with a lot of butter made of laminated dough. They had it all over Brittany, in all sorts of flavors - all very sweet and not a dietary food, by no means, but it gave me loads of energy. The New York Times called it the '"fattiest pastry in all Europe". I bought this at various other places - but here in Binic it was the best. After trying the this queen whatever thing, I made a complement to the pastry shop, they thanked my appreciation with a big smile.

At around noon, I reached a truly wonderful place, the Beauport Abbey, an abbey built in the 13th century and destroyed in the French Revolution of 1789. It was founded by Premonstratensians, an order that still exists today, in Austria, it can be found in Geras, in Hungary, in Csorna. This abbey even had a hydraulic watering system - quite amazing. With a wonderful garden next to a beach, it is a yet another candidate where one could spend an entire day or even longer.

Poimpol was the next place not too far away, we are talking of a settlement with a few thousand inhabitants - they have a church that would be a pride of a major city.

I crossed a bridge under (re)construction, chatted with a young couple (one of whom was German), who gave ma a few tips where to proceed to. They recommended Tréguier, even though it did not have an "x" at the end, it is a wow-wow-wow! town. As the site says, "half-timbered houses in this charming little town whisk you back to its heyday in the 15th and 16th centuries." Absolutely!

Now to the cathedral of the town. "The 63m-tall cathedral spire, graced with ornamental openwork, soars above the rooftops. Built at the turn of the 12th century in the Gothic style, Tréguier’s Cathedral (dedicated to Saint Tudwal) is one of the finest in all of Brittany. After taking in the exquisite finesse of its entrance porches, step inside to admire a pulpit covered with elaborate floral motifs, the surprising bestiary engraved in the choir stalls, and the tomb of Saint Yves".

It was a Sunday, and I was wondering where all the tourists were on this day. There were a few others strolling the streets, but I was surprised there were no crowds crawling through the streets of the this beautiful town. Did I mention I would want to spend more time at any of the places I visited? No? Well, I would love to return here.

Having left town, I was again riding on small roads and a horse said hello to me.

I reached Lannion after a while and thought, almost to my relief, , "oh, well, a not-so-impressive town", I had a little rest, took a photo, but made the mistake of entering the small streets. Here, yet again, I was thrown back a few hundred years, seeing the half-timbered houses - that apparently not a single other tourist was visiting.

The couple of the last photo had a good laugh at me, as the only tourist in town...

An hour or so later, I reached Saint-Michel-en-Grève, with a large beach, on the shore of which is a marine cemetery and a church.

Despite me loving the sea, I did not go in - it was quite late and I just did not find it too inviting - or maybe I am just getting old...?

Then came Plestin-les-Grèves, with yet another wonderful church with a long history, but it was closed. A German couple also wanted to enter it and were just as disappointed as I was.

My plan was to reach Carantec that evening, which looked quite near - however, Google recommended a huge detour, with the road turning almost directly south from the coast, then turning sharp back, directly to the north. What is happening? I zoomed in - and then understood. There was a narrow inlet was ahead of me, without a bridge - I was a bit surprised, but there was nothing I could do (safe for building a bridge or swimming to the other side).

It was so that I got to Morlaix, which was at the southern tip of this inlet. I had no idea what to expect, though the name of the town did end in an "x" , so chances were that it might be nice. The first thing that struck my eye was the endless lines of sailing boats parked on both sides of the inlet...

...Next was a viaduct spanning across the town, pretty much behind the place the inlet ends...

...Finally, I was yet again thrown back a few centuries, seeing all the half-timbered houses (some a bit askew). These houses are so-called ‘maisons à pondalez’ (overhanging houses), nestling among the other historic buildings! Constructed in the 16th century by linen merchants, they were built on three storeys around a monumental fireplace, a winding central staircase and wooden indoor walkways named ‘ponts d’allée’ – a derivation of the Breton term ‘pondalez’. Interesting, eh?

I greeted a dog on the main square - something I usually do - and most of the time, they do not mind this. This fellow, however, was in a nasty mood, it snapped at me and had to be held back by its master.

In a front of one of these houses, a gentleman definitely not of French origin came and struck up a conversation in English. It turned out he was originally from Seattle (of all places - for those that do not know, I had spent six years in Seattle) and had just moved to Morlaix from, eh, I forgot where, anyhow, we talked for quite a while. So ended my plan to reach any other place that evening, so I started looking for a place to stay. There were no campgrounds in the city (obviously), however, a Grand Hotel de l'Europe had a room for just around €50. Well, the word "grand" was a bit of a misnomer, it was a rather ancient and outdated three-star hotel, but it worked OK for the night at this price. The receptionist lady was fluent in Russian, she was quoting from Pushkin or Gogol or Tolstoy, but I would not have understood the difference anyhow.

After I checked in, I gave the Indian restaurant in France a chance, while the food looked good, I still was left without a memorable meal in that country. The chicken tikka masala was just OK, I have eaten much better ones in Vienna, Budapest, Seattle, needless to say, in Pakistan (where I also had spent six years).

At 10 pm, it was still not dark, so I did a small tour of the town, saw the now-lit viaduct, the townhall and some interesting work of art.

This was a magical day, probably the nicest one on my route, at least of all the days until where I am with the story now (from here onward, 10 more biking . days are coming up). Being presented with one magical place after the other is something I had very rarely experienced on my earlier rides. It was around 115 km of riding - and my finger almost hurt from photographing so many wonderful sites.