After seeing Mont Saint Michel in the morning, those of us up for a hike took the bus headed for Cap Fréhel. This was the first time Lindblad had visited Cap Fréhel, and it was billed as a 'strenuous hike,' which it turned out not to be. Perhaps the local tour company was concerned about the uneven footing.
The tip of this strategic cape is adorned with two lighthouses. The larger, 98 feet high, was built in 1950, while the smaller dates to 1685.
In all directions, the view was spectacular. Here, looking north and west, there is a very choppy and chaotic sea between us and the large rock. The tide wants to go one way while the wind is blowing the other way, leading to conditions nobody would want to drive a zodiac through.
From this same road, which from the parking area forms the beginning of the walk, I took this picture out to the point.
Several of us walked out to the very tip of the cape. Note the lack of guardrails and warning signs ... you are assumed to be smart enough to not fall into the ocean. Or if not, that you are supervised by someone who is.
We soon came across this foundation of a gun mount from World War II.
Looking east, we could see Fort La Latte perched on the next cape, peeking over the cliff's edge in this photo.
The trail wound along the cliff top towards Fort La Latte, which would have made a wonderful destination for an all-day hike with packed lunches. As it was, we got close enough for me to take this photo with my zoom.
Some of the group, including the local guide, elected to hang out around the lighthouse; others of us, including some Lindblad staff, wanted to walk as far as we might. Along the way there was something new to see around every curve of the trail. Here is one of the rock formations that has split from the mainland.
Cormorants were sunning on the slabs just beyond the reach of the waves.
We were not the only ones drinking in today's weather and vistas.
Further on there was a mount still connected to shore being visited by fishermen and picnickers.
As you can see, the trail was mostly flat. Too soon it was time to return to the bus; the only good aspect of leaving the cape was that dinner was drawing closer.
Back at the dock there was a good view of the northeast corner of the walls of St. Malo from the Explorer's rear deck.
The next day was a day at sea as we sailed west and then southeast to round the western tip of France and enter the Bay of Biscay. Our destination was the small island of Ile d'Aix, just offshore from the port city of La Rochelle. My course line is conceptual only and in no way based on formation about the navigation of the Explorer.
We had hoped for some good views of the French coast, but the French maritime traffic authorities insisted that the Explorer follow the routes for regularly scheduled passenger ships, which we were not. This meant we had to sail out of sight of land. The bridge crew was not happy. The Explorer had sailed the closer route before. But once persuasion fails there was little that could be done without running the risk of being boarded by the French coast guard.
In the beginning there were some large swells, leading me to take a Bonine tablet. As you can see, the plates at the breakfast buffet would accordion up and down with the pitching of the ship. Perhaps the video clip could be longer, but you don't dare stall the line for long!
The Lindblad staff and guest experts have a depth of knowledge that makes a day at sea a fascinating learning experience. Even if, like me, you don't retain much after 24 hours. Here are the presentation offerings for this day:
- 0900: Jim Kelly on "The North Atlantic Ocean: Weathermaker of Europe."
- 1100: David Barnes on "Napoleon: The Revolution on Horseback" (relevant to the following day).
- 1500: Kenneth Brassil on "Romanticizing the Celts."
- 1600: Justin Hofman photography "Breakout Session."
- 1700: National Geographic Photographer Katherine Carnow with a presentation on the region of Poitou Charentes.
- 1845: Video Chronicler Rodrigo Moterani presenting a preview of the film of our trip so far.
Our pigs Mocha Puff and Cream Puff had a play date during one lecture with Freddy and Carry, who were accompanying one of the Lindblad staffers.
As we turned to the southeast the seas, or the ship's position relative to them, improved, so between presentations Joan and I spent time on the bridge watching the shipping traffic. The Explorer passed this vessel, which was on its way to Gibraltar. It's a dredging or oil surveying barge; the big square block at the stern is living quarters.
The next day would be very busy, with stops at Ile d'Aix and La Rochelle. We would be rendezvousing in the morning with Serge and Jeanne during our brief visit at Ile d'Aix, and meeting Bruno Corson, another friend Joan made during her junior year abroad, in the afternoon at La Rochelle. With these reunions we would be forgoing the guided tours at these spots.
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.
