We crossed into Brittany with mixed feelings — we were entering one of the most scenic and popular regions in France, but the cold, the wind and the rain weren't playing ball.
We'd have loved to explore the wild edges of the Breton coast, but after riding the Normandy coastline we'd already seen what happens to these places during the darker months of the year.
Those charming little seaside villages that have so much character in summer become ghost towns in winter — you can go ages without seeing another soul, and the only things open are the bakery and the hairdresser.
That sent us back to the drawing board. We abandoned the coast and cut straight through the interior of Brittany — a dash for the warmth and sun of the south.
Our first Warmshowers host in Brittany
We spent our first night in the region with Samuel, a Frenchman who'd decided to take a sabbatical year, leave his sales job behind and cycle around Europe. When he came back, his outlook on life had changed completely.
He'd walked away from the frantic pace of Paris and retreated to an old farmhouse in the countryside, where he'd found the peace and quiet he'd been missing in the glass prison he'd been living in at the centre of the city.
His time out there had sparked an interest in growing things, and he was planning to move into organic farming — building a life of self-sufficiency and subsistence.
Resting up in Rennes
The next day we rolled into Rennes — the first big city since we'd left Caen — and quite a jolt after our time with Samuel.
We arrived exhausted, physically and mentally drained, with a pile of dirty laundry that really couldn't wait any longer. We stayed a couple of days with Noèmi at a student hall where — to many people's surprise — we actually rested.
The old town of Rennes impressed us. We'd expected to be underwhelmed, but the brief wander we managed through its streets and squares left us genuinely charmed — before we pushed on towards Saint-Nazaire.
Cycling through flooded fields
The route took us, once again, to a little farmhouse in the countryside, where we met a mother and daughter, both cycle tourers, while riding through fields and lanes flooded by swollen rivers after the heavy rains at the start of winter.
We passed through a nature park that was completely submerged — nothing visible above the waterline except the road we were riding on, every crop ruined, just the crowns of trees breaking the surface.
A couple of days surrounded by nature — and by water, mainly water — until we reached the port city of Saint-Nazaire, where we celebrated Ilze's birthday with a French couple: a journalist and a teacher who were planning their first cycling adventure together. From Saint-Nazaire we followed the Atlantic coast south — read about that leg in cycling the Atlantic coast of France.
