August 12, 2018
I must be an idiot.
It rained all night and it was sluicing down this morning when I left Locronan. On the way out of town a car slowed down beside me and the occupants rolled down o window to shout bon courage at me. They must have thought me brave to ride in the downpour, but really all I felt was a little bit ridiculous in my reflective silver poncho. I suspect I look a bit like a tent on wheels dressed like that. After 20 km or so I got to Chateaulin I decided to chicken out and take the train the rest of the way to Brest. At the station there were three other cyclists and a hiker. One of the cyclists asked me if the busses took bikes. Now why would he ask that when there was a train leaving for Brest in a few minutes? Maybe they wanted to go the other way, which would mean a wait of several hours. Anyway, I said no, busses generally don't take bikes. I chatted for a bit with the hiker, who was making a walk around Finistère and then the train arrived. Getting off in Brest I saw that the rain was easing off. I found a room open and ready at the hotel Oceania and was quickly showered and changed and ready for lunch.
Lunch was eaten in the hotel restaurant. A juicy hamburger with Roquefort sauce that I ate with a knife and fork. Afterward, the skies began to clear, so I decided to visit the chateau that guarded the port and which now houses the naval museum and the admiral of the Atlantic Fleet.
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The museum takes you through the history of Brest and through that of the French navy. Lots of sailorly paraphernalia and artifacts from the age of sail through modern times.
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Leaving the museum, I saw that the skies had cleared and in the sunshine a sailing vessel was entering the port. I went down to watch.
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The harbor walls were lined with fishermen ( and women) all catching mackerel. I watched a few being pulled in, then went to look for a beer. Now there is one thing to know about waterfront bars. Those that are directly across from the harbor front are for tourists. Every sailor knows that the cheaper and better bars are one street off the harbor. Brest is no different in this respect from other ports I have visited and there is an "Irish" pub right where I expected to find it serving up locally brewed beers. Peter the bar man is actually from Ireland and his banter in two languages is some of the cheapest entertainment around. I sat through two pints of Coreff just listening to him harass the clientele.
Dinner was an anticlimax after the pub, but still good. Oysters yet again and tuna steak with chocolate cake for dessert.
Today's ride: 22 km (14 miles)
Total: 552 km (343 miles)
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You know, we all feel like idiots sometimes when we're on a bike tour--some of us more than others. I know I rank quite high on the idiocy scale. I hope that makes you feel better.
Just know that I'm joyously following another one of your tours in the land of my ancestors. Perhaps one of them lived in that "world's oldest building" (according to Wikipedia.) Fascinating!
As fascinating as that was, I'm sure you know what my favorite parts are. Hard to believe those boring old oysters and tuna steak were an anti-climax but, in a way, I get it. I also have a feeling that a hamburger eaten with knife and fork had to be something pretty tasty and juicy.
Finally, that was a fine food pic early in the journal. Day two or three perhaps.
Yours in Frenchiness,
Greg
6 years ago
Well sir, I'm happy to have you along for the ride. I've been finding that Breton food is not very photogenic. Not that it's bad, it's just visually boring. How many times can you photograph crepes? Anyway, I take my camera with me when I eat just in case. I'll probably sneak a few more food pix in as I wrap this tour up.
Cheers,
Keith
6 years ago