European Odyssey: Mont Saint Michel

After sailing overnight from Cherbourg and our Normandy adventures, we awoke the next morning in the dark with the Explorer docked at St. Malo. The buses would be leaving very early in order to arrive at Mont Saint Michel at opening time. The low-angled light of dawn treated us to gradual revelations as the bus approached.

It was a full hour's drive, so we had disembarked from the ship while there was just a hint of color in the east. Breakfast had been a hasty affair.

By the time we disembarked in the new but almost deserted parking area the island looked like this.

A multi-year project was begun in 2006, after years of debate, to restore the tides around the island. Previous human intervention, including construction of a causeway to the island, parking areas on the island, and turning the river Couesnan into a canal had caused silting-up of the estuary, threatening to turn the island on which Mont Saint Michel is built into part of the mainland. This plaque gives an overview of the new visitor complex.

The solid causeway is being replaced by a bridge under which water can flow, and the parking areas at the island are gone. Guests are shuttled from this visitors center to the bridge. Also, a dam has been built on the Couesnan to store and release tidal flows (click to enlarge).

Some of the new facilities and exhibits at the visitor complex were still under construction (September 28, 2012).

This is the new dam on the Couesnan.

Most visitors are discharged from the shuttle bus at the mainland end of the bridge; those who have problems walking are driven to the gate.

Having arrived at such an early hour, we were admitted through a side entrance.

One of the first architectural features we saw was this steep ramp; materials and supplies were lifted up by human beings, at first by muscle power and pulleys, and later, in the era when the island was a prison, by inmates walking inside large wheels.

During the guided tour we saw the wheels themselves; this one was built about 1820. We'll see it again later.

Our group visited the abbey first. This plan allowed those who wished to browse and shop to have their freedom as soon as they had seen enough. The first big climb was the stairway known as the Grand Degré.

Early in the climb I took this picture looking back the way we had come, showing the construction of the new bridge. Clearly we are near low tide.

There is a small terrace halfway up the Grand Degré, the Saut-Gaultier. Here I took pictures of gargoyles,

and a water tap that was not part of the original construction.

After more stairs we arrived at the West Terrace. I didn't take any good pictures of the terrace itself, so I'm substituting a screenshot of Google Maps with an arrow painted on. Interestingly, this image was taken when there was still massive parking on the island and a solid causeway, so it's illustrative to compare with the earlier picture.

From the level of the West Terrace, the west face of the abbey church looks like this. The spire with St. Michael on it shines above.

Looking out to the north, to the sea, past the small island of Tombelaine.

Shifting to the west, another view.

Overall, a good place to spend time, what little was allotted, absorbing the geography of the Mont. This early in the morning, it was sacredly quiet and seemed the center of the world.

The statue of St. Michael (1897) and the gilded spire accents are also worth a closer look.

The abbey church was built early in the 11th Century, eighty meters (262 feet) above sea level on a platform eighty meters long. This photo was taken near the entrance facing east, towards the chancel. Note that the closer sections are Romanesque, with rounded arches, while the chancel itself is in Gothic style with pointed arches. The original chancel collapsed in 1421, after 400 years perched on the edge of the rocky top.

Here is a closer view.

Adjacent to the church is a cloister, a welcome sight in a community built in stone sitting on stone.

To the east of the cloister is the refectory (dining hall for the monks). The roof of this uppermost story is made of wood.

Below the refectory is the Guests' Hall, for receiving visiting nobility and royalty. The huge double fireplaces no doubt provided much feasting and jollity.

Next we entered the great pillared crypt, built in the mid-15th century to support the Gothic chancel being rebuilt above it.

Nearby is the the Saint Martin crypt, built shortly after 1000 CE as the foundation for the south arm of the church.

From the crypt a small passage lead us to the big wheel we had seen from outside. The room in which it's housed was originally the monks' ossuary (where bones of the dead were kept).

The north-south stairs run below the west terrace, and were the major footpath for the monks.

The Knights' Hall was built to hold up the cloister, and functioned as the work and study room (scriptorium) of the monks. Even on a sunny day there's a weakness to the light, unless perhaps you are working directly underneath a window.

On the outside, you can see the buttresses that support the three-story structure known as the Merveille through which we had just finished touring. There is also a small garden. And we're still high up on the steep rock, so it's no surprise to learn that Mont Saint Michel repulsed every attack of the English during the Hundred Years War.

As we worked our way down towards the town, I spotted these daredevils walking out into the bay to survey Tombelaine, or perhaps the seabirds. Striding out during low tide is frowned upon, but perhaps this was a guided group. The highest spring tides are 15 meters (almost 50 feet) above low tide; at these times the sea withdraws 15 kilometers (more than 9 miles) and surges back rapidly. The careless can drown.

Here is a view of the streets in the town on, the lower slopes of the island. People have begun to stream in; I took the picture when the foot traffic had lightened temporarily.

Here is my final photo from the streets of Mont Saint Michel.

Back at the parking area with the buses, the Lindblad staff had refreshments ready to sustain us until, after an hour's drive, we were back at the ship for lunch. There were two options for the afternoon, a guided walking tour of St. Malo (with time for shopping), or a hike at Cap Frehel. Joan and I chose the hike, having already seen St. Malo, albeit 20 years before, and knowing that tomorrow would be spent entirely at sea. This hike plus the next day will be the subject of my next entry.

European Odyssey: Orne Nature Walk and D-Day Sites

As with the previous day, today there were three options among which we had chosen earlier. There was an 8:30 departure for a full day tour of the Normandy coast and D-Day beaches, a 9:00 departure that began with a hike in the Baie de l'Orne Nature Preserve and then moved on to the D-Day beaches, and a 9:30 departure again for the Normandy coast and D-Day beaches. Joan and I began this busy day with the hike.

Here we approach the Orne Nature and Estuary Visitor Center. The exhibits were not open yet.

In the center bottom of the map below, just to the left of the label "Sallenelles," is the location of the museum. We're preparing to take our nature/birding hike along the estuary of the Orne and among its wetlands.


The museum aspires to be child-friendly, and the outside was sprinkled with fanciful sculptures large and small.

A sign gave us an overview of the walking trails, marked as red lines.

We set out with a blustery west wind on our left, and soon were subjected to a rain squall. Our guide, dressed in a suit jacket and leather shoes, maintained his professional attitude and forged on with us, even though his umbrella was of little use. Afterwards the weather slowly improved and I began to take pictures again. Here is one view of the wetlands.

You never know what you'll find on a shoreline ...

The wind continued for a while after the rain stopped; it helped to dry us out but kept the air chilly until our halfway point.

There were several bird blinds from which to observe the fall migrants and the year-round residents. This picture shows how the boat docks and lighthouse are just on the other side of the low dune.

The sun began to warm us and the landscape. The dunes hosted bushes that bore blackberries, or similar berries, and several of us sampled them as we meandered through the alleys created by the foliage.

Here Doug Gualtieri, a Lindblad naturalist, makes a point about a feather.

The sunshine grew stronger and coaxed out this butterfly.

There was an abundance of snails clinging to the beach grasses, but for some reason I didn't take a picture of them. We returned to the museum briskly, along a different path.

We briefly toured the exhibits of the museum, after having walked several miles, but soon it was time to visit the Pegasus Bridge, and our group climbed into the bus. This nearby historic bridge was seized by British paratroopers in the early morning hours of D-Day.

Parked just off one side of the bridge is a British tank, the Centaur variant of the Cromwell.

Here is the newer version of the bridge. The original is preserved in a museum.

A brief history is on this plaque. "Ham and Jam" was the code signal that the bridge had been taken.

The patch of grass that the British gliders landed on was tiny; it was an amazing feat of flying in the dark. No small portion of luck was involved, I'm sure. Here is a public domain photo of the gliders of Operation Deadstick, the code name for this airborne assault.

The three different Lindblad groups rendezvoused at the Château la Chenevière for lunch. Ours got there first. The Château is impressive from the front,

but the grounds and tended trees are just as spectacular. I'm glad this next photo has people in it to give the proper scale.

The lunch was the site of a small personal triumph and an embarrassment. Seated at a circular table of about ten, I was asked to pass a wine bottle. I did so with my right hand, but I clipped the top of my half-full/half-empty wine glass, and it began to topple. With my left hand I snatched it by the bowl, spilling only a small amount of wine on my plate, but the momentum of the glass broke the stem. I sat there, stunned, holding a wine glass with no stem. My quick reaction and avoidance of a major spill left me with a pleasant sense of accomplishment. However, a few minutes later I was sopping up some of the gravy and wine mix that was left on my plate, cutting the soaked bread -- should have been using my fingers -- when the knife slipped. Wine-colored fluid spattered all over the front of my shirt. I was properly humbled. (That night I gave the shirt a soak in cold water, and it came clean in the wash when I got home.)

The next destination for our group was Omaha Beach, and particularly the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial.

This view of the memorial is from the back, along the pool leading to the cemetery.

There are detailed multi-story plaques on either side of the memorial. This one describes the initial landings.

You can also study an overview of the month-long Normandy campaign.

The cemetery is extensive; over 9,000 U.S. soldiers and airmen are buried there. As with other U.S. military cemeteries in France, the land is leased in perpetuity to the United States with no fees or taxes. Not having much time to wander, Joan and I sought out the graves of two Roosevelts. Theodore Roosevelt Jr. was the oldest man in the invasion, and the only general to land by sea with his troops. He passed away from a heart attack only weeks later.

Next to him is the only veteran of the First World War buried here, his brother Quentin Roosevelt, an aviator who died in the earlier war.

Omaha Beach was the scene of the worst fighting of the five beaches (Sword, Gold, Juno, Omaha, and Utah). For a while on June 6, 1944 the outcome of this landing was in doubt. The American troops faced entrenched German troops on a bluff above the beach and, to avoid Rommel's beach obstacles, landed at low tide. This photograph is taken, looking east, from the top of the bluff before we walked down  to the beach.

Today the beach wears an entirely different face than it did almost 70 years ago, the scars of war having been erased by time, but the feeling of struggle still envelops it like an invisible mist. Here is one photo from our beach walk to the west. If it isn't low tide, as it was during the landings, it's close.

A bit later the sun colored the sand more warmly. This picture reminds me, from an utterly different context, of recent pictures from Curiosity, the Mars rover.

On down the beach, beyond the memorial grounds, we rejoined our bus and headed for Sainte-Mère-Église. Upon our arrival we were welcomed by staff from the Explorer, offering apples and classic Normandy sparkling apple cider. The sweeter variety, cidre doux, is only 2.5%-4% alcohol and very thirst quenching. I was ready to sneak several bottles home with me.

Sainte-Mère-Église is perhaps best known for the nighttime paratroop drop preceding D-Day. The townspeople and the German garrison were out and awake fighting a fire when two planeloads of paratroopers were dropped, in error, directly over the town. Most of the illuminated paratroopers were quickly shot. One, John Steele, snagged on the church steeple and survived by playing dead for a couple of hours. Today an effigy commemorates the event (click on the photo to enlarge).

The church has traditional stained glass, but two windows remind us of the events of 1944. Here the Virgin Mary and Child are surrounded by descending paratroopers.

This window displays the insignia of the units involved; it was dedicated on the 25th anniversary (1969).

This photograph looks towards the altar in the church.

Also near the church is a road marker, a mile marker, from Roman times. Recorded history is remarkably deep here. I doubt that the cross on top originated with the Romans.

This plaque, in French, identifies the marker, or borne. If a Roman mile was indeed 1481 meters, that's about 92% of an American mile. The final phrase means, "All roads lead to Rome."

There is an Airborne Museum across the parking area from the church,

but there was no time to visit. Our road now led to Cherbourg, towards which the Explorer had been sailing while we spent the day ashore. While boarding for a late dinner, I paused to grab a picture of this channel ferry, the Normandie Express. That might be a fun ride!

Overnight we would sail to St. Malo, with an early departure for Mont-Saint-Michel.

Snow Flakes, Shovels, and Plows: A Timelapse

I recently bought a Bushnell TrophyCam, and its first extended test was looking out from our front porch when we expected a significant snowfall. We ended up with 5 inches.

The camera was set to record a picture every 5 minutes in addition to a picture when triggered by its motion sensor. It switches between black-and-white images and color depending on the light level. I think it turned out pretty well!

Here's a still photo to satisfy blogger thumbnailing,

and here's the video.