Overly ambitious and bad navigation equals a very long day. - In Brittany it only rains on the idiots. - CycleBlaze

August 13, 2018

Overly ambitious and bad navigation equals a very long day.

My initial plan was flawless. Use the train to get out of Brest, then back country roads to visit two of the sites on my list and finish the day on a rail trail to get close to the next goal. What could go wrong? Well I suppose that by now you'd have guessed. I mis-judged the distance and I didn't allow for any cluelessness on my part, both of which on their own can cause me grief, but together almost always do. Add into that the very unreliable nature of the Breton cycle network and my day got way longer than I wanted it to be. But let's start at the beginning.

The first train available from Brest that took bicycles and allowed me to use my senior discount card left at 10:30. I therefore ate a leisurely breakfast and got to the Gare a few minutes beforehand. There were other cycle tourists waiting for the same train. A couple were going to Morlaix to take the bike trail I wanted to use later in the day but in the opposite direction. I said to them that I might see them later, but of course that wouldn't happen due to my delays en route. Another young fellow was going to Rennes from where he hoped to ride all the way to Laval, no mean stunt for a single day. His rig was very light and included aero bars so I could see he was serious. I chatted with him as we rode along, wishing him well as I descended at Landivisiau.

From the Gare in Landivisiau , which is well outside of town, I was on quiet back roads all the way to St. Thegonnec. This part of Brittany is know for the " enclos paroissiaux" enclosed churchyards with some fabulous medieval sculptures. 

The entry to the enclosure at St. Thegonnec.
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The much decorated crucifix within.
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Detail featuring various saints being martyred.
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I repaired myself to a crêperie across the street after viewing the enclos and had the usual galette for lunch. I asked for a coke, but got this instead :

The local brand. Breton (Breizh) pride in a bottle.
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This might be a good place for me to interject an observation about Breton culture. The locals are very proud of their heritage. Brittany didn't really become firmly attached to France until the reign of Charles XII in the 15 th century. Up until the revolution only a few of the upper classes spoke French most people conversing in Breton. Napoleon tried to end that by requiring all public schools to be taught in French and today Breton is seldom heard. There has been a pushback though and of all the minority languages in France, Breton is the healthiest. All road signs are in Breton and French, there is a public tv channel in Breton, and some schools are now taught in Breton. Despite this I have not heard anyone speaking Breton since I've been here. I find this unusual because when Sue and I visited Ireland we heard Irish, and in Alsace, Alsatian is quite common. Maybe I just haven't  been to the right places.

Leaving St. Thegonnec, I tried to find a back road to get me to Huelgoat, my next goal. I must have missed a turn because I found myself a few kilometers farther north than I had anticipated when I joined the D789 which would take me to the town. No problem, though, it was a nice day and the road pleasant. Lots of other cyclists were out and we greeted each other in passing. Huelgoat turned out to be a disappointment when I got there. It's pleasant enough, but nothing really special. As soon as I made a circuit of the town center, I left, following signs that indicated the trail I wanted to be on. 

The road crested a ridge giving me a great panorama.
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A short descent and I would be on the trail for Morlaix. Or so I thought. Either I missed a sign or the sign itself was missing, but I sailed on by the place where I should have turned. Instead of six kilometers I did almost twenty. The trail, when I did find it was mostly gravel but with a lot of mud. It went downhill at first and the mud holes required my utmost concentration. On top of that, the trail is used by horses which leave their droppings everywhere. I met one of these equines pulling a caravan as wide as the trail. Braking hard on the downhill I just managed to squeeze past. Father on I came to a place where one could rent a horse and caravan which I think is pushing the rules of trail usage to the limit. Sharing the trail is not easy with these behemoths and the horse crap is disgusting in a public place. 

Well, I continued along, meeting one more caravan, and rising and falling with the trail until I was eventually dumped out onto a back alley at the edge of Morlaix. Thankfully, I found that I could coast down into town where the Hotel l'Europe had a room for me. It had just gone six thirty when I got there so I called Sue and took a shower. Dinner in the hotel restaurant of sausage and potatoes.

Today's ride: 103 km (64 miles)
Total: 655 km (407 miles)

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