"Help," said the New York grandmother with the short curly hair. "Someone call me a cab!"
She was sitting by the pool of her hotel in the Loire River Valley of France, reading the itinerary of the bike trip she was about to take. On "Day Two," it said, "The most challenging ride of the trip features plenty of hilly terrain so be sure to fuel up at breakfast."
The lady from New York was scared.
By the evening of the next day her fears had been somewhat allayed. In the town of Rennes she'd met Morgane and Denis, the leaders of the Normandy and Brittany bike tour conducted by Backroads, "the world's number one active travel company." Also gathering there were 14 other participants from all corners of the United States.
After shuttling to her first hotel, the historic Manoir du Vaumadeuc, she'd been issued a top-of-the-line Cannondale bicycle and checked into a room whose fireplace was bigger than most hotel rooms. She had survived a warmup ride through late summer farmland to a 13th century chateau. And now she was dining on a cassoulette of fruits de mer: scallops, mussels and mushrooms in wine and cream.
Of course there was still tomorrow.
Though France is a favorite destination for American travelers, the area known as Bretagne, or Brittany, is not. Parisians, on the other hand, have long flocked to its sprawling coastline. "But the north is more authentic," said Morgane, a Breton herself. "You have wild areas, no construction on the cliffs, no huge hotels. But the weather is changeable," she added. "Rain is always a possibility,"
At dinner Denis reminded the bikers that there were both shorter and longer versions of each day's basic route. "If it ever stops being fun," he said, "hop in the van. There's good music, good food and good company."
"If it rains," said the lady from New York, "I'll be in the van for sure."
On the morning of Day Two it was raining. Did the lady from New York hop in the van? She did not. And at the top of the steepest hill Denis was waiting for her with congratulatory fruit and nuts, juice and cookies. "The real name of Backroads," he told her, "is Snackroads."
Beyond the hill the road wound through fields of purple heather and yellow gorse toward cliffs that fell to the sea. At 12:30 or so, depending on who rode fast and who more slowly, we arrived at our picnic site. Morgane was waiting with salads, cheeses, pates, garnishes and spreads, with juices and bottles of cider and wine. For dessert there were wonderful French tarts. Putting on a CD of Breton folk music, Morgane donned wooden clogs and danced us a dance her ancestors had danced.
For two hours after lunch we biked easily on mostly level, nearly car-free roads. Fields of corn and stretches of woods were punctuated by villages whose every house was walled with granite and roofed in slate. Villages that would have been somber if not for masses of flowers that spilled from window sills and lined front yards. At rare intervals we were overtaken by old Renaults that looked like bread baskets on training wheels and flew by at supersonic speeds. "Zut, alors!" said college student Jim on more than one occasion.
By mid afternoon most of the yellow-helmeted bikers had turned into the long drive of the Manoir du Vaumadeuc. Soon they disappeared into the great stone mansion, each to do his or her own thing. Which, in the case of the lady from New York, was to lie submerged in a hot bath, nursing a glass of red wine.
"What a great place," Tom said as he roamed the gardens of the Chateau Richeux, our second hotel, a member of the prestigious Relais and Chateaux group of luxury inns. On the border of Brittany and Normandy, the 1920's mansion was perched high on a bluff overlooking miles and miles of the Bay of Mont Saint Michel. Within its stony exterior were 11 bright and cheerful guest rooms, all commanding sweeping views of the sea. At dinner we marvelled at the sweetness of the bay's mussels and oysters, provided by local fishermen for our table.
Next morning an overview of the ride to Saint Malo was presented on a terrace high over the water. Then began a glorious cycle to the seaside village of Cancale where fresh oysters were being pried open. "Uphill begins at the traffic circle," read the itinerary we kept tucked in the plastic windows of our handlebar bags. "Thanks for sharing," we thought. From a cliff road that hugged the coast we cut inland through fields of vegetables ripe for picking. Above us the sun shone in a cloudless sky, warming the late August breeze. Magnifique!
Bikinis dotted the beaches below the
ancient walls of Saint Malo and Hobie Cats
were setting out to race. Except that the walls
weren't ancient at all. Most of Saint Malo had
been destroyed during the Second World War
and rebuilt on the medieval plan. As a repro-
duction, Saint Malo seemed eminently successful.
Touristy, without a doubt. But the grand stone
buildings were handsome and it was a pleasure
to walk its winding streets and battlements and
sit in its leafy parks.
At least one room in the Chateau d'Audrieu,
our third hotel and first in Normandy, was small and
clothed in a remarkably ugly wall covering. But the
chateau itself was magnificent. Approached by a
long drive that led through pillared gates to a vast
u-shaped building, it was the epitome of an aristocratic
French estate. Almost as impressive were the beautiful gardens and acres of parkland. The crowning glory, however, was its restaurant. The possessor of a rare Michelin star, it offered us two fabulous dinners.
By now it was clear who the strong bikers were. Petroleum Engineers Deidre and Paul, a young couple who had moved from Alaska to Abu Dhabi to work in the oil industry. Chuck and Sue Ann, a radiologist from Connecticut and his wife who taught pottery. Tom and Debbie, a very fit couple from California. These were people for whom biking was a regular part of their exercise programs. But even those who biked rarely if at all were discovering they were becoming stronger every day.
On a day when an early dinner at a local restaurant was planned, only two people opted for the extension to the basic route. One was the lady from New York.
"When I came back," she said after completing the entire 51 miles, "I couldn't get off. It was as if I was attached to the seat. Morgane had to say, 'Give me the bike!'"
Fortunately for her, and the rest of us too, not every minute was spent in the saddle. On each of the 9 days of our trip, at least one highlight was scheduled. In Brittany we visited the medieval cities of Dinan and Saint Malo. Interesting as they were, it was in Normandy that the truly spectacular awaited.
Early one morning, before the daily invasion of 30,000 tourists, we bussed to Mont Saint Michel. When we passed through the gate to the single ascending street we were greeted by restaurants, hotels and tourist shops. But these only carried on the 1,000 year-old tradition of accommodating visitors. In the 900's the first Benedictine monks settled in the abbey. Over the centuries a village grew on the rock, fortifications were built that withstood British attacks and magnificent buildings were erected on the steep slopes.
Armed with a taped narration, we wandered through the huge refectory where the monks took their meals in silence, into the great pillared crypts and elaborate 3 storey structures hugging the cliff. We stood hushed in the serenity of the Abbey church's 13th century cloister. Our last view of Mont Saint Michel was over a broad green meadow where cows grazed oblivious to the abrupt granite rock that rose in the distance, surmounted by one of the wonders of the world.
On another day we went to the movies, or what might have been their equivalent in the late 11th century. In 1066, William the Conqueror, then Duke of Normandy, defeated the British at the Battle of Hastings. Some years later his half brother, who had fought with him, commissioned a memorial of the event. The result was the Bayeux Tapestry, a story in pictures embroidered on a piece of linen 270 feet long. When we entered the barrel-vaulted room where
the original is displayed, we could almost feel the preparation of Viking-like warships, the ferocity of hand to hand combat and the scenes of treachery and death.
Before dinner at the Chateau d'Audrieu we were introduced to a slim vigorous man in his 80's who, 60 years ago, had been a member of the French Resistance. Andre Heintz spoke mostly of the exploits of others. Of the owner of our chateau-hotel, for example, who had escaped through occupied Normandy to Portugal and England. Joining the RAF as a navigator, he directed pilots to fields in his homeland where supplies, guns and explosives were dropped.
Only when asked did Monsieur Heintz speak of himself. Then we learned of his escape from a train bound for Germany, of his helping downed airmen to cross into Spain, of photographing German defenses and receiving sabotage orders on a homemade crystal radio.
On our next to last day we biked to Omaha Beach where a white horse was galloping on the smooth stretch of sand. "This is what the film we saw yesterday showed," Tom said. "How it is now and the way it was after the invasion, littered with ruins."
We'd been given an article written on that momentous day in June, 1944, by Ernie Pyle who described "the soldiers lying in rows, the toes of their shoes standing up in a line as though on drill." He wrote about the artillery dug into the gentle hill behind us. the hidden machine gun nests. And under water, mines, iron barricades and huge logs buried in the sand.
Above Omaha Beach, rows of white marble crosses and Stars of David marked the remains of 9,387 servicemen and women. Visitors wandered silently among them. "Amazing," said the lady from New York. "It's so peaceful. And it just goes on and on."
In Normandy we cycled past white limestone villages very different from the dark granite towns of Brittany. An excerpt from a day's route itinerary gives an example of their size: "Kilometer 32.2. Entering Asnieres-en-Bessin on D194. Kilometer 32.5. Leaving Asnieres-en-Bessin on D194"
At a marvellous Sunday market in Port-en-Bessin we bought vine-ripened tomatoes, strawberries red clear through, crusty baguettes, pates, and chose from dozens of local cheeses. Then, for our sins, we were confronted by a short but heart-stoppingly steep hill where those who couldn't make it were lost in admiration for those who could.
La Cheneviere, our final lodging in Normandy, dated back to 1672 when it was devoted to the cultivation of hemp. When in 1988 it was converted into a hotel, that plant's blossom was chosen as its symbol. On reflection, the flower of an illegal drug seemed not such a good idea, so a rose was put in its place.
Appropriately, our charming rooms had a floral theme, delicately patterned and hued. The sweeping lawns led to lovely gardens and restful bowers. Inside there were more quiet hideaways and the dining room was the setting for exceptional meals. Hemp or no hemp, La Cheneviere was addictive.
Most of the bikes had been stacked against the van when a biker rode into La Cheneviere's courtyard at the end of the last day. "Congratulations!" Denis said. "You did the extension." He took the bike and placed it with those of the riders who had taken the short and basic routes. "How was it?" he asked when the biker had thanked him and turned to walk away.
"Piece of cake," said the lady from New York.
IF YOU GO:
Backroads offers biking, walking and multisport vacations in North America, Europe, Africa, Latin America, Asia and the Pacific for all levels of fitness from beginner to expert. Long and short route options are available as well as rest days. Contact them at 800 GO-ACTIVE (462-2848) or www.backroads.com.
GETTING AROUND: BY TRAIN: The selectpass, Europass, Flexipass and the 17-country Eurailpass allow you to avoid busy ticket counters. High-speed trains cut down travel time while local trains provide access to smaller towns. For information, purchases, schedules and fares contact Rail Europe (888 382-7245 or 800 361-RAIL in Canada. www.raileurope.com).
BY CAR: Auto Europe (800 223-5555, www.autoeurope.com) provides cars at the guaranteed lowest price with no cancellation penalty throughout Europe. Especially helpful is their 24-hour toll-free telephone number to the American office should assistance be necessary.
FOR FURTHER INFORMATION ABOUT BRITTANY AND NORMANDY: The French Government Tourist Office, (410 286-8310, www.franceguide.com) can provide brochures and information.
RECOMMENDED READING: Michelin Green Guides to Brittany and Normandy. Cadogan Guides: "Brittany." Eyewitness Travel Guides: "France."
