A Brittany Travelogue

Discovering the sights and towns around our new home

Despite dozens of visits to France over the past 25 years, neither of us had been to Brittany before our exploratory trip in March 2022. Like most Americans, Paris was what we knew about France. Over the years, we’d ventured to Normandy, Bordeaux, Burgundy, Loire Valley, the Pyrenees, Alsace-Lorraine and the Mediterranean. But I’d never heard of Rennes until it popped up in a Google search of the most livable cities in France.

So, exploring the place we now call home has been a priority. We thought we’d share a few photographs from our nearby journeys. 

But, first, some quick background: Brittany is the section in the far northwest of France that sticks out toward the Celtic Sea and the British Isles. It’s about the size of Maryland, less than a third of Pennsylvana. You can get from one end to the other by car in less than three hours.

Brittany comprises four departments (basically counties): Côtes-d'Armor, Finistère, Morbihan and Ille-et-Vilaine, where we live

In many ways it seems separate from the rest of the country, with its own traditional culture, administrative council, far-left politics, cool-looking flag, and even an ancient Celtic language that’s still widely spoken. We are a peninsula whose weather and landscape are shaped by the strong winds and rain that blow in from the Atlantic.

That weather drew us here; in an age of global warming, we wanted nothing of the south’s stifling summers. The downside, of course, is a lot of our travel in Brittany has taken place in less-than-ideal weather. In fact, we abandoned one trip last year, to Concarneau, in the midst of a bomb cyclone that wracked the coast with 100 kph winds.

Concarneau (Finistère)

We returned to the village earlier this month and roamed the streets of its tiny “closed city.”

Don should’ve been holding on during a walk along the waterfront. 

The beaches are gray and raw with a unique, hardened beauty.

Carnac (Morbihan)

The fields around Carnac (Morbihan) in the south are lined with thousands of standing stones, placed in rows and circles by pre-Celtic settlers up to 7,000 years ago. Their purpose is a mystery, but wandering among them makes for a fun day, as we discovered last summer with our visiting Philly friends, Laurie Conrad and Tony Donato.

The Rose Granite Coast (Côtes-d'Armor)

Without a doubt, the Côte de Granit Rose is the most spectacular natural scenery we’ve encountered in France. No picture can show its beauty or scale. The boulders look like they’ve been thrown here by the gods. The color is beyond description.

In September, we’ll be returning to the area with our friends Mark Bulik and Barbara Hennessy. We rented the house at the right, on a beach in Pleumeur-Bodou. That’s Theresa at the left, searching for sea glass and stones — a favorite pastime.

Roscoff (Finistère)

Low tide in Roscoff, a tourist town that is the home port to several ferries to the U.K.

Pont-Croix (Finistere)

Fishing boats in a small port near Douarnenez, known for its sardines. We visited the region with our friends from Chestnut Hill, Bob Warner and Jean Hemphill.

Mont Saint-Michel

Obligatory glam shot of the historic landmark, which — though it is technically in Normandy — Brittany likes to claim it as its own. Last September, we visited with a dozen friends who crossed the Atlantic for Don’s annual Hearts Tournament (don’t ask). 

Morlaix (Finistère)

A Saturday morning visit to Morlaix brought us beneath a towering railroad viaduct built in the 1860s. Its weekly market operates rain or shine.

Fougères (Ille-et-Vilaine)

A rare sunny day greeted us in Fougères, a small town about a half hour northeast of us. This preserved 1,000-year-old castle is the largest medieval fortress in Europe, and it’s the first I’ve seen with a working moat. 

Lamballe (Côtes-d'Armor)

Earlier this week, we visited the home of Steve and Theresa Cosgrove, a U.S. couple who recently moved to Lamballe, about 45 minutes northwest of Rennes by train. We poked around the 700-year-old Église St Jean, dedicated to John the Baptist. The stained glass naturally depicts his gruesome demise. I like how the artist – a Frenchie named François Haussaire who created this work in the early 1900s – tastefully covered his severed neck, but still felt obliged to include lots of dripping blood.