Redruth to Brittany: Part 1 Morlaix - Viaducts and Venelles

Ferry leaving Belle Ile for the mainland

September 2024

The blog has been a bit quiet for a few weeks; time to plan the next trip. This time to Brittany with Tony. The intention was, of course, to travel by train but in fact we incorporated 2 ferries, local buses and a camper van.

Our daughter drove us to station so we had the chance for fond farewells (only brief as she was going to join us in Nantes). Our tickets to Plymouth only cost £7.20 for both of us with the senior railcard; not sure why that train was half price but am not complaining. We decided to walk to the ferry terminal from Plymouth Station to the foot passenger check in. Rattling our suitcases down Union Street, we mused on how some parts of the city remain forlorn, come what may. Embarkation was easy and we arrived as the corps of cleaners departed, leaving the Armorique spotless. Despite the late hour, we couldn't resist the café and shared a plate of frites and a tarte aux fruits - let the holiday begin! Slept remarkably well on the bunkbeds and were awoken to the anticipated delights of the Breton harp. Apparently, Brittany Ferries changed the tune at one point and this led to angry exchanges in the Western Morning News. Some things are sacred.

Roscoff is silent in the early morning - apart from the sound of our rattling suitcases ... they follow us everywhere. We were trying to find the bus to Morlaix. In possession of a timetable, though the print was so small and faint we couldn't read it (the intention was good), we had no notion of a departure point. After rudely arousing the locals from their sleep for long enough, I asked a tall man walking his two pugs for directions. He told us to 'suivez moi' and led us to the bus stop where groups of older women on walking holidays, full of chat and excitement, were gathered. We all boarded and the next stop was ... the Ferry Terminal!

One thing that always strikes me in France is the space they give over to their infrastructure. Morlaix train station has two platforms and the most enormous footbridge (la passarelle) with lifts down to the platforms. Here began the day of steps. Our guest house on the far side of the bridge was also called La Passarelle (highly recommended if you have good legs) and was reached up a steep set of steps. Once we'd finally dropped off our bags which involved enlisting the support of two young women in the next door café ... 'You can speak to me in English', my French had floundered ... (it did improve), we headed for the Rue des 100 Marches.

Built in a river valley and on the surrounding hills, Morlaix is a town of steep, narrow lanes with many steps, called Venelles, and flanked by medieval houses. You can climb more steps up on to the viaduct with a great view of the town.

Morlaix was a wealthy trading port which is reflected in the grand houses. As well as the half timbered houses, there is a particular architecture associated with the town called 'maison a pondalez'. These comprise a huge public entrance space that reaches up to the roof of the building with a vast chimney breast. This was where business was done, merchants gathered, deals concluded and I imagine goods stored. The private, family rooms are to one side and are usually just one room per floor. There maisons a pondalez that are museums but they were fully booked for the afternoon. Opposite in La Grande Rue, I spotted a sign that said 'Knock to visit between 10-4pm'. So I did. A small woman with a big smile, opened a very large wooden door and welcomed us to follow her next door and gave us a private visit to her maison a pondelez. Her husband is an architect and they have restored the building, including putting in roof windows with photovoltaic glass to warm up the vast space. It felt such a privilege and the owner took great delight in sharing the space. He uses it as his studio so must also welcome clients there, as was the tradition.

The other main industry was tobacco manufacture and until 2004 there was an enormous factory which for 200 years was a major employer in the town, especially for women, as well as being a place for social and technological innovation. The building was emptied, caught fire, but has now been restored, an on-going process, and has been designated as a centre for the Arts and Science. There are artist studios and a dance studio, an interactive museum around the manufacture of tobacco as well as geology and a planetarium. Also a cinema, café and restaurant. Now known as La Manu. Great use of an historic space. Reminded me of Krowji in Redruth, though on a much larger scale. Further down the street there is a plaque on a door to a nineteenth century poet from Morlaix who suffered from ill health and so was unable to fulfil his dream of being a sailor. He changed his name to Tristen Corbiere which stands for 'Triste en Corps Biere' (sad in coffin body ...). He only lived to be thirty; triste indeed.

I managed to eat two galettes in a day - am not complaining. One with ham and cheese for lunch. Later we planned to climb the Rue des 100 Marches and eat in the café by the guest house but when we arrived we were told emphatically they don't do food in the evenings and that if we wanted to eat we would need to re-descend into town... Hence the second galettes but this time it was a Morlaisienne which included potatoes from St Pol de Leon - so tasty with a pichet of cider and gave us the energy to reclimb the steps.

Next blog: Belle Ile