Five-minute read: Brian Phelps looks back with fond memories on a hike he did in France 28 years ago.
When I was a young fellow in 1989, I came across an old and battered hiking magazine in the London pub I worked. In there I found a terrific tale about a couples walking adventure in Brittany and Normandy, inspired by this and the photos I'd seen of walled cities and abbeys, I decided to follow in their footsteps. The walk my mate and I set off for was a four-day hike from Rennes in Central Brittany to Mont Saint Michel on the coast of Normandy, a tidy 70km in all.
We almost met disaster even before we'd made it to the start point with a chest infection almost stopping me in my tracks. Very fortunately a local teacher spotted me suffering on the train and, along with his wife, looked after us for two days until we were ready to go on. (Such amazing generosity!)
The first day heralded 20km of fields and flowers from Rennes, full crops reflecting the good season. We made good time and set up camp, sleeping peacefully until the next morning when a cow burrowed it's head right into our tent. My screams of fright rapidly sent the sizeable herd in all directions. No doubt the farmer was impressed with my efforts!
So, wide awake, we hiked a further 20km getting lost numerous times along the way. We later discovered the route we were following, although popular ten years ago, had now fallen into disrepair with no-one interested in maintaining it.
Later that day as we hiked across a field we discovered we'd gained a few companions. About 30 cows trailed along behind us. As we sped up, they sped up, as we changed direction, they too followed. Spooked, we ran for a fence some 50m away. My mate leapt the fence in one hurdle (backpack n' all!. This looked ill advised to me so I had a go at diving underneath which culminated in a total fail as both myself and my pack became wedged underneath in a tangled mess of wires. Each cow came up and sniffed me, licking my pack for good measure, much my disgust!
Our third day began with cured French sausage, apples and a walk towards Pleine-Fougeres craving a decent meal. I consulted my trusty, torn-out article, we adjusted our bearings and set off for the final, wonderful 30km walk past rolling fields of wheat and orchards into Mont Saint Michel.
Walking along we passed a farm gate that looked oddly familiar. It was the very same one photographed from my article, which mentioned the owners to be most hospitable. This proved true as no sooner had we wandered up the drive that a cool drink and plate of pickles and cheese was placed in front of us. We mentioned the article and were immediately invited to stay the night. Their hospitality was awesome. They even supplied us with eggs, bread, apples and a few cloudy bottles of cider (which was felt all over again the next day.)
Well fed, day four saw us traversing the last few kays to the coast where we were blessed with amazing views across to Mont Saint Michel, a magnificent medieval town and abbey. An adventure I'll never forget.