The morning walking tour along the ramparts of the walled city of St Malo began at Porte Dinan, close to our berth. We then moved on the main gateway of the town where the town’s flag flies above the black and white striped Gwenn ar Du of Brittany, the familiar red, white and blue tricolour of France, and the gold stars on blue of the European Union. Such is the historic independence of St Malo that it obtained this unique privilege in bygone times, the only place in France where it is permitted to fly the town flag above the national tricolour.
The inhabitants of St Malo were a seafaring people with global reach, more Malouins than either Breton or French, their fisherman giving their name in French to the Falkland Islands where they established an early settlement, Les Malouines. This name crossed over into Spanish as Las Malvinas. At the other end of the Atlantic, it was a local boy, Jacques Cartier, who first sailed from St Malo to the mouth of the St Lawrence in Canada in the sixteenth century. Buried in the town’s cathedral, he is commemorated by a fine statue looking out to sea from the town’s ramparts which were lovingly restored following the destruction of the old city in the closing months of the Second World War, a symbolic act that typified the characteristic pride of the Malouins in their town. Our walking tour included a visit to the cathedral, lovingly reconstructed in the post-war years and, en route to the Jacques Cartier statue, a pause for refreshment at a splendid crêperie.
Another morning option was a coastal hike in the neighbouring resort of Dinard, with romantic coastal views and splendid fin-de-siècle villas. In the afternoon a visit to Cancale was offered, a village famous throughout France for its oyster production. The tidal range along this coast is second only to that of the Bay of Fundi and the harvest of local ‘fruits de mer’ employs specially designed vehicles. At evening Recap we all had a chance to sample oysters and local Muscadet.
Steve Morello has had a long and colorful career in the natural history world. Born in New Jersey, he was lucky to be able to summer on the shores of Cape Cod. Whether it was exploring the tidal pools, snorkeling along the beach, or hiking in the dun...
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The last full day on board could not have been better. We woke to blue skies and warm weather in the deep water Atlantic port of La Rochelle in the province of Charente-Maritime. The World War II submarine pens beside our ship were a stark reminder that things were not always this wonderful. In June 1940, German forces occupied the city, attracted by the deep waters that made for an ideal naval base and the shelter provided by the offshore islands of Île de Rey and Île d’Oleron. (The strategic location was recognized as far back as the 12 th Century, when the dukes of Aquitane fortified the city.) German occupation continued until May 8, 1945, the day France was liberated. Our morning excursions took us over the long span bridge across the bay to the charming Île de Rey. The island is a wonderfully peaceful location, with rustic architecture and narrow cobbled streets bathed in the scents of a million flowers of many varieties. We passed the ruined 13 th -century Cistercian abbey of Chatelier on our coach tour of the island. Previously an intensive wine-growing area, the island suffered a devastating vine disease in the latter part of the 19 th Century, resulting in a 90% loss of crops. Nowadays, it is primarily cereal-growing although numerous small vineyards were still visible. The island hosts a prison (made famous by the movie “Papillon”) and the local donkeys stood guard on the perimeter! All the villages here were recently declared a UNESCO World Heritage site and it’s easy to understand why. Being on the 45 th Parallel, traders from this region easily navigated due west to the mouth of the St. Lawrence River, principally trading beaver hides from the New World and shipping settlers, slaves and salt from the Old World. Of course, no visit to the area is complete without tasting the local Cognac, a protected name from the region. The afternoon was spent in the stunning house of master distiller Edouard Normandin. We took a paced tour of the Cognac house, and learned some secrets of the trade, before finishing with a tasting of some of the best products. Edouard himself joined us and we can all highly recommend the Normandin-Mercier as a wonderful and masterly crafted Cognac! Sailing in the late afternoon, with the sun shining and spirits high, we were feted at the Captain’s Farewell Dinner, and there was nothing but smiles to be found onboard!
Today, we traveled to the Orient. Well, that's a bit misleading…we actually spent the day in Lorient, one of the largest cities in Brittany. Despite its name, Lorient (which means "The Orient") is on France's west coast. It was founded in the 17 th Century and named for its important role as a ship building center for the French East India Company. Some of our passengers went to the picturesque village of Locronan, others visited the remains of a Nazi submarine base, while a third group took part in a sailing excursion. As I needed to stay on the ship this morning to welcome our guest musicians, I spent my one hour of free time on a much more important mission. I was in search of the great golden treasure of Brittany. I don't mean actual gold, which certainly has lured plenty of treasure hunters. No, I'm referring to the luscious and seductive kouign-amann , which, translated from the Breton language, means, "butter cake." It is made of almost equal proportions of flour, butter and sugar, layered together and then baked until crispy. Imagine, if you can, a crunchy, buttery croissant dripping with sweet, finger-licking good syrup. Those guests lucky enough to choose the Locronan excursion were treated to a taste of this regional specialty as part of their itinerary, but alas, I was doomed to miss out. So I set off on my quest, braving the industrial maze of Lorient's port in search of a good bakery. As I've learned, kouign-amann is a very difficult pastry to master, and not every baker gets it right. It is common to find a perfectly mediocre kouign-amann , even in Brittany. Much like bagels in New York, if you make the mistake of buying a fluffy bagel at the wrong deli, you will be sorely disappointed. After a 20-minute walk I finally managed to reach downtown Lorient. I was briefly distracted by the siren call of a music store (I am an ethnomusicologist, after all), where, after spending $150, the now very-friendly shopkeeper pointed me in the direction of the best local bakery (take a right before you reach the Sephora, it has a green awning, should you need to know in the future). She warned me that the best kouign-amann would be found in the town of Douarnanez further to the north (which is where the delicacy was invented around 1860) and that I would be unlikely to find a good version here in the big city. Thankfully, she was mistaken. I spotted them glistening in the window display from at least a block away. I floated into the bakery, picked out two individual-size cakes, one plain and one apple, and plunked down 3 euros and 60 cents. I barely made it out the door before I ripped off the paper wrapping and tore into my first kouign-amann with a fervor similar to that of a man rescued from a deserted island and given his first meal in weeks. I knew as soon as I took my first bite that this was first-rate kouign-amann , actually the best I have ever had. I don't remember much after that, but I can tell you the next few minutes (or was it seconds?) were beyond delightful. I imagined this was how the Spanish conquistador Francisco Pizaro must have felt when spotting his first gold-clad Inca king. Unlike Pizaro, I resisted the temptation to return to the bakery and plunder it bare. As much as my mouth called out "more!" my brain kept my waistline and arteries in mind, and I made my way back to the ship contented by the successful completion of my mission. I arrived just as the musicians pulled in, and after helping them set up and treating them to a delicious lunch (yes, I was hungry…don't ask me how), they treated our guests to a fascinating and foot stomping presentation of modernized Breton folk music. The band's name was ARVEST, the Breton word for "spectacle" (also, they told me, the name of their favorite Neil Young album). A popular band in Brittany, ARVEST takes the traditional kan ha diskan vocal style and reinterprets it for contemporary audiences. Their unique blend of ancient roots music with electric and acoustic guitar has been an important part of the explosive revival of the fest noz scene in Brittany. Fest noz are music and dance gatherings that last through the night. People come together to link arms and dance to traditional music for hours on end in a jubilant celebration of community and culture. ARVEST's infectious music had our guests giving traditional Breton folk dancing a try, to mixed success. After today, I know why Bretons love their folk dancing marathons…they need them to burn off all the calories from overindulging in all that irresistible kouign-amann !
The small fishing port of Roscoff on the northern coast of Brittany’s most westerly department of Finistère began a new chapter in its history at the beginning of the 1970s when a co-operative of local farmers invested in a cargo vessel to transport the region’s crops of early vegetables directly to Britain. The ship was called Pennarbed, (Breton for Finistère), the first ship in a growing fleet of what became known as Brittany Ferries. As well as trucks laden with vegetables, she also carried the local Johnny Onions with their bicycles laden with strings of onion and garlic and also a little tourist traffic. Today the route from Roscoff to Plymouth is just one of several crossings from ports in Brittany and Normandy that connect to the coast of southern England and Ireland operated by Brittany Ferries, now one of the most successful of the cross channel ferry companies for freight and passengers alike. If Brittany Ferries represents the best of modern Brittany, the mediaeval town of Roscoff offered us a chance to see the best of Breton heritage. At the centre of the town is the church of Our Lady of Croaz-Batz, built around 1520, and forming the centrepiece of a ‘parish close,’ the unique ensemble of church and elaborate tower, in Renaissance style, with ossuaries and walled enclosure. A monument within the enclosure commemorated Dorothy Silburne who offered asylum to Breton clergy during the period of the terror in the French Revolution, including to a future bishop of St-Pol, the nearby cathedral city. This part of Brittany was strongly Catholic and the revolutionaries in Paris made a big mistake in alienating the common people by its anticlerical policies, a lesson that the Bolsheviks failed to learn when they repeated the same mistake in Russia following the 1917 October Revolution. For a glimpse into the way of life of the provincial nobility before the Revolution, we also visited Château Kerjean (Kastel Keryann) some twenty kilometres to the south-west of Roscoff, a drive through the Breton countryside that enabled us to witness the scale of vegetable production hereabouts: onions, garlic, cabbage, carrots, artichokes and potatoes. The château has been empty since its last owners fled before the terror and contains interesting exhibits, including a collection of traditional Breton wooden furniture: beds ( lits-clos ), wardrobes and linen chests. Our visit to Roscoff had been unscheduled and we certainly made the most of the opportunity provided to explore a new port and its hinterland. Heavy weather persisted and in the afternoon we ventured around Ushant and the Pointe du Raz en route for Lorient in invigorating conditions.