June 4, 2019
Paimpont to Les Forges
An improving trend (except for the weather)
I woke early, as usual, and didn't lie about. I got up and packed, the sooner to exit Paimpont. I really didn't want to leave on D40, the soul-destroying road I'd come in on, even though it would be easier without the heat. There was another way, to the northwest, and the bonus was that I wouldn't even have to go through town.
When I arrived at the Camping Municipal yesterday, the accuiel was closed with a note on the door saying it wasn't open in the afternoon so campers should just go in and set up and registration would happen in the morning. There was still nobody there this morning when I left just before 8 and I didn't wait around. I just left. Goodbye Paimpont. I won't be back.
The ride out was scenic, through more pastoral countryside and a few more plastic fields. As I went by one of those, the farmer was driving his tractor down the lines of plastic, with a gizmo behind the tractor that poked large-ish holes in the plastic between the two rows of corn.
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Looks like wheat to me. I’m enjoying your tour having visited Brittany last year.
Cheers,
Keith
5 years ago
I turned off D141 too soon, following the sign that said to Néant-sur-Yvel, and ended up up on the red road for a couple of km. Traffic was light and there was a metre-wide shoulder, so it was okay. Nevertheless, I escaped into Néant-sur-Yvel as soon as possible and looked for a boulangerie for breakfast. I asked there about a café and was told it didn't open until 10. I'd have to wait almost an hour.
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The next decent-sized village, Loyat, didn't have an open café either. Funny, I don't remember this being a problem on my Pyrenees trip. It's a good thing I can live without morning coffee.
The rain started in earnest as I approached Josselin. Riding into the town, I was lucky to spot a Bar-Tabac at the first intersection. Open! I locked my bike and entered. I didn't really need coffee, but warm and dry beckoned and the café au lait was good too.
(As I write this, it's 7 a.m. on a Wednesday in a very small village and the bell of the church across the street is bonging incessantly. I wonder why? It just stopped. Way more than 7 bongs.)
The rain stopped, I paid and put my rain jacket back on, and the heavy rain had started again. I sat back down. It finally stopped again and I left to find lunch. Everything here that isn't a restaurant was closed between noon and two, and it was just past noon. Besides, I was still chilled. I hadn't got my fleece out of my pannier because I didn't want to get it soaked in the pouring rain.
Most of the restaurants were closed too, it being Tuesday, but I found an open crêperie that seemed popular. I chose the lunch special. It included a large savoury galette, a simple sweet crêpe for dessert, and a bolée of cider for 13.5€. Having eaten that in the warm restaurant, and wearing my fleece, I was finally warm.
I wandered around the historic centre and into the Basilique Notre Dame du Roncier. While I was in the church, the organ suddenly started playing. For me? There had been a couple of other people in the church when I came in, but they'd left.
The door to the stairs to the organ was ajar and there was no sign saying privé or anything, so I went up the stairs as quietly as possible. There were safety warnings on the stairs (hold the handrail, watch your head) so I guessed it wasn't strictly off-limits. The door to the organist's little room was open and inside I spotted him. A boy, maybe fourteen, with his backpack on the floor beside him, getting in a little practice on his school lunch break. He didn't see me and I didn't disturb him, just left quietly.
There had been a notice for visitors in the entry of the church. Along with a reminder to be quiet and respectful in the place of worship, it said that if you wanted to climb the tower, the entrance was off the Place du Mairie. Around the church I went.
Just at the entrance, I met a couple of women from Whitehorse with 3 young boys. They offered to let me go up ahead of them, but I knew the boys wouldn't be slow on the narrow, twisting staircase. One of the women and here two boys had been "over here" since last August; their friends had just joined them. They were cycling too, presumably on the Nantes-Brest Canal. What an experience for those Yukon kids!
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Next was the visit to the château. It's privately owned and has been restored to live in by the Rohan family that owns it (and has done so for centuries). Guided visits only, in French with English leaflet, no photos inside. It was interesting, but would have been better if my French were better. The guide seemed very good, lots of anecdotes that weren't in the leaflet, and which I couldn't follow because of her rapid speech.
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Afterward, I rode the Canal de Nantes à Brest (CNB) myself to Les Forges, where I'd booked a chambre d'hôte for only 40€. Along the way, I moved aside for an ambulance driving the (paved!) path, looking for an injured person. I hadn't seen anyone, as I told them when asked, but came across the scene between the next two locks. The ambulance had turned the wrong way when it entered the path and would have to loop around. There were 3 people with the injured man, all cyclists, and one was on the phone with emergency services. After telling them about the ambulance, I could provide no further assistance, so continued.
I'm staying in Les Forges. It's not far off the CNB. Very pleasant and a chance to fully charge all my devices.
When I contacted my host about the availability of a restaurant in the area, he said there wasn't one (there is one, but not open Monday or Tuesday) and offered to make me a tray. I accepted.
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Today's ride: 53 km (33 miles)
Total: 2,017 km (1,253 miles)
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5 years ago
The bells in the morning and at noon are the Angelus. A very Catholic tradition for a supposedly secular country, don’t you think?
Cheers,
Keith
5 years ago
5 years ago
5 years ago