Day 10: St-Jacut-de-la-merLast modified 2023/08/23 21:51
I’m now sitting in “Le Petite Creperie” in St-Jacut-de-la-mer. They don’t have 50cl beers, and only have 25cl, it’s going to be an expensive crepe. The campsite was a mistake, there are so many tents it’s rather more like a refugee camp than a campsite (to be fair I think it’s also a refugee camp). I’m installed in close proximity (very close proximity) with a cycling couple from Brighton.
The big man asked me “are you of the camping” I answed “yes” then thinking about the question, “no, I make camping, but I’m not of the camping” “ah well, the man said they would be open but the barrier is down, I guess I will have to phone him”
the true count of yesterday’s ride
I had found a quiet corner of the camp site, I left to eat and on my return the same man had parked his huge car next to my tent, and had unpacked a huge tent. As I sat down to sleep he started his car at 10PM and that meant that he’d be back. He came back at 12PM and started doing something until 1PM, after which he commenced to snore in his huge tent. I probably had my worst nights sleep, in the morning the man, his huge tent and his car were gone. Maybe he was never there. My legs were aching.
In the morning it was coffee and the rest of the Pain Sportif leaving the campsite at around 9PM. I would follow the cycle route, I expected it to follow a train line or a canal or some other relic of an ancient transport network, but the cycle route was on country roads mostly, with some offroad sections.
while tears streamed down my face
Tears were streaming down my face as I rode the first 10 kilometers, not because I was emotional, but because that happens sometimes in the morning.
I again chose to walk up the steep hills - although my vanity advised against it, and I had a strong urge to cycle up them regardless, but my common sense prevailed.
abandonned train line, not yet a greenway
After cycling north I was able to see the sea again, and turned to the east to make my way to St Malo, sometimes staying on the EV4 route and sometimes skipping ahead on the main road, I was looking for a coffee but the coffee bar was closed and I only got a Pain Suisse, after another 25k I wanted to stop for a beer and a Crepe, not finding a Crepe I fell off my bike. I tried to turn around to abruptly and the bike fell out from under me, I was falling towards the ground but managed to bounce my self and managed to hit the ground with my hands softly, suffering only from a slightly tender toe.
This was before I had a beer, which I purchased (I treated myself to a Blonde Leff) along with a baguette at a supermarket, I then walked the bike to the promenade and wheeled it to vacant bench, carefully propped up the bike behind the bench (oh I miss my kickstand) grabbed my knife and my Laughing Cow cheese and cracked open the beer and sat on the bench feeling quite happy with myself. It was a wonderful view and the sun was welcoming me onto it.
The beach where I drank beer
Of course such moments cannot be for free. As I was cycling up the hill, maybe three kilometers from my lunch stop, I reached for my hat. My baseball cap is normally slung over one of my bar ends, it wasn’t there. Oh fuck. That was a good cap, where did you leave it? At the lunch place? No - I always check before leaving, it must have fallen off when I fell off my bike. I decided to backtrack, the cap cost maybe 15-30 euros and, in anycase, I liked it. It was worth an extra 20-30 minutes of my time. I couldn’t find it however.
The baseball cap is another essential item. It’s the best hat for cycling, it stays on when you go down hills, you can hang it on your bar end, and you can rotate it backwards to look cool.
There were some long descents today. The previous evening I had succeeded in transferring my music (albeit without my knowledge) and spent time listening to David Bowie and Leonard Cohen (their final albums), getting lost in the words until I realised I was going down a hill.
Realising you are going down a hill is always a bit concerning, especially if you are a significant way down it - often it could be the wrong hill. Fortunately I only went down the right hills today.
Les Batteaux (in town in which I found no food)
For some reason I thought I was going to be in St. Malo tonight, but it seems I didn’t take in to consideration a large swath of land between here and there. Which is good, it is 33km to St. Malo from here, which will take me maybe 2 hours or so. The ferry (which I will book when I get there) leaves at around 16:00.
I was aiming for a campsite, which I arrived at only to find out it didn’t have camping at all. So I went to the next campsite, which, as mentioned at the begining of the post, is a bit of a hell hole and I’m not confident at getting any sleep tonight, but anyway, good sleep or not, time continues.
After chatting with my neighbors, who turned out to be quite friendly, I headed into town to eat, not finding a suitable restaurant I sat at a fancy Creperie “The beers, they are 50cl? 33cl?” “Non messieur, 25cl” oh well. It was a fancy Crepe, and I started writing this blog post with it, but due to the fact that my 25cl beer was gone rather quickly and I was taking up a precious table I decided to leave, and on my way back I saw what I was looking for, aj cheap and dirty bar/restaurant.
I’m now sitting at picnic table in the campsite, I haven’t got much battery left and not sure what the internet is like, but I’ll try and get this blog uploaded. Hopefully I can charge up on the ferry tomorrow, but well, I’ll also be home tomorrow evening if all goes to plan.