Day 70: Tessy Sur Vire to Carentan

June 4, 2018

Brigitte, the owner of our chambre d'hotes "La Minoterie" in Tessy asked us about going to see whales in Canada. I wondered how she had developed an interest in whales and it turned out that she has a (basically correct) image of Canada as a wild place inhabited by many large animals. Whales were just on her list as a large animal. We offered some advice on how to see whales in Canada. In doing this, from our own experience I was very aware of how murky things can seem when one is looking to geography in an unknown foreign place. Going to see whales from our house is so easy and normal to us, but how would it seem to someone from 10,000 km away!

Brigitte. Maybe one day she will come to Canada.

Grampies set off for their run down the Vire river.

It turned out the B&B was just blocks from downtown Tessy, but they had thoughtlessly placed downtown up a hill. Dodie's knees have been worse, so a hill, especially right off the bat, was not a good idea. Fortunately one bakery was stranded down the hill, so we were still able to buy sandwiches for lunch. Photos of Tessy in any event could not have happened since it was now raining. The rain lasted all day, sometimes moderate and sometimes easing off, but it was not easy to get any photos.

The route followed the Vire river, more or less tightly, and mainly offered views of pastures and cows. Some herds were clearly Normande - so speckly and cute!, and some were much like Holsteins. In one field, every cow had a white blaze on its nose. Hey, you have to be noticing something, as you pedal along for hours.

Normande cows often have a combination of dark and medium speckles

Speaking of noticing things, Dodie spotted this Poule d'Eau sitting on a nest, in the river.

The fact that the nest was on an exposed mud flat in the river rather gave the lie to a sign that we encountered, warning that the green way was closed due to flooding. As we have mentioned before, you really can not trust any form of road closed signage in France, because either they did not really mean it ,or they they did really mean it but right now are off at lunch or on holiday, or they did really mean it but that was three months ago and they forgot to remove the sign. We spent quite a while looking for the flood, but switched over to looking for a general closed road, based on the next sign along. We did find what that one was all about. The bank had slightly collapsed and they were somewhat thinking about filling it with rocks (but not today, after all it's Monday!).

This could be serious, but only if true.

The major town on our way today was St. Lo. The map is probably too busy if you are at home reading rather than out there cycling it, but you should be able to spot Tessy at the bottom, St. Lo in the middle, and Carenton at the top, with the Vire river joining them. Carenton is about 25 km from the open English Channel and 15 km from the famous Sainte Mere Eglise, which is behind Utah Beach.

We rolled into St. Lo as usual knowing nothing about it. We were not helped by Tourist Information - which only opens at 2 (after lunch, following a morning rest!). But we did manage to find the roofed market area, empty because the market is only on Saturday. The roof was helpful, because it was raining rather heavily. We took the opportunity of putting on one more layer to help stay warm.

I noticed a lone food truck in a corner and went over to get some fries. Hot and greasy is good on a cold rainy day. The man running the truck and I had to overcome a small communications problem before the fries could get going. I asked for "frites", which I pronounced in the Quebec manner: "fr -its". It took the man a second to realize that what I wanted was "freets".

On my way back to the bikes I said hello to a city street cleaner man who also was sheltering under the market roof. I observed that he was no doubt waiting for the rain to let up, since he had no raincoat. (Like every other French outdoor worker, though, he did have a fancy work outfit.) In the man's answer I could identify not one word that I recognized. I spent all of my time during the brief non-exchange just trying to figure out which kind of accent it was that I was not understanding. When I got back to Dodie I found that she had heard the "exchange" and also understood nothing. Dodie surmised that it was a "Normandy" accent of a not too educated person. But I had expected that a Normandy accent would be much like a Quebec accent. This was nothing like it. I almost went back to ask the guy, but then, how would I have understood the reply?

In St Lo we did not spot anything that looked like the "old town" we always gravitate to, but we did see a church, so we went there. Dodie left me outside with the bikes and went in first. Outside, in my usual hang dog way, I must have been gazing at my feet for a time. Then I looked up. WTF??

The church in front of me was half blown away, the rest of the facade ruined and defaced. I was flabbergasted. This was the beginning of our education about St. Lo. On June 6, 1944 the place had been 95% destroyed by allied bombers. At least 500 civilians died that night, and of course most of the church had been knocked down. St Lo is known as one of the "martyr cities" of the liberation. The bombardment was only the beginning, of course. July 9-24 was the time of the Battle of St Lo, as the American 29th infantry division faced off against the German 352nd. The Americans fought their way down from Carentan, reversing our route of today.

Inside the church, recovered bits and pieces were mounted on a wall, together with some photos of the aftermath. Clearly, a huge amount of restoration has been done, and I would not be surprised if the damaged portions that have been left are being kept that way just as a reminder. The replacement wall that is there now is referred to as a "bandage", and this is exactly how it looks.

One of the more poignant pieces inside was a statue of an angel, looking skyward, and with both its hands blown off. That really can bring you to tears.

This bell was sitting inside, but not sure what its story is, but I assume it came from the knocked down tower.

As we left the church its bell began to ring. This put me in mind immediately of Leonard Cohen's song "Anthem" - "ring the bells that still can ring..."

Leonard Cohen - "Anthem"

The birds they sang
At the break of day
Start again
I heard them say
Don't dwell on what
Has passed away
Or what is yet to be
Yeah the wars they will
Be fought again
The holy dove
She will be caught again
Bought and sold
And bought again
The dove is never free
Ring the bells (ring the bells) that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything (there is a crack in everything)
That's how the light gets in
We asked for signs
The signs were sent
The birth betrayed
The marriage spent
Yeah the widowhood
Of every government
Signs for all to see
I can't run no more
With that lawless crowd
While the killers in high places
Say their prayers out loud
But they've summoned, they've summoned up
A thundercloud
And they're going to hear from me

We continued north and crossed the river at Airel-St. Fromond. Panels by the bridge described the situation there. My poor photo in the rain is still legible:

The GPS guided us slightly into the hinterland, to the B&B we had booked. This is actually in "Saint Hilaire Petiteville" but in the general vicinity of Carentan. The owner, France, put us into our room with a minimum of fuss. This was much appreciated because by then we were noticeably wet and cold. Tomorrow we will again reach the Channel and carry on along the famous "Plages de Debarquement" - the landing beaches.

We are again in a 200 year old stone farmhouse

Today's ride: 69 km (43 miles)
Total: 4,585 km (2,847 miles)

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