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Morlaix by Mike Cruickshank 18 Feb: Received a £500 rebate on our telephone bill and have decided to use it for a visit to France during the Easter holiday. I have been to the local travel agent for some ferry brochures, and like the look of the Roscoff area in Brittany. 5 Mar: Have booked two nights in Morlaix which is a few miles south of Roscoff I will have to travel by rail to Plymouth to catch the ferry to Roscoff. The package, done by Brittany Ferries, covers the ferry crossing from Plymouth to Roscoff, transfer to Morlaix for two nights in the Hotel d'Europe (2 star) and the return trip overnight to Plymouth. I've been doing some background reading to try and get the feel of the place. In recent years, right up until the late sixties, Brittany was something of a backwater. At that time the local farmers, dissatisfied with the prevailing state of affairs, combined to try and improve them. One result was the conversion of Roscoff into a deepwater harbour and the creation of Brittany Ferries, originally intended to transport local produce to overseas markets. Other improvements in communications have been the construction of major roads and the creation of a Brittany based airline, Britair. The local people are devout Catholics. Their Celtic roots give them a strong affinity with the Welsh, Cornish and Irish. The Welsh and Breton languages have much in common. Some guidebooks suggest that a Welsh speaker can make himself understood to a Breton speaker. Not so: they are mutually incomprehensible, but a Welsh speaker would have a head start in learning Breton. Brittany was in practice, although not in theory, an independent duchy until 1532. The dukes would swear an oath of allegiance to Paris and then go home and do exactly as they pleased. Even today there is still a strong nationalist feeling in Brittany. The Middle Ages saw Brittany as a hotbed of corsairs and, in 1522, a band of them raided Bristol. The English fleet which went on a reprisal raid to Morlaix was defeated after the English sailors went ashore and got plastered. The occasion is commemorated in the Morlaix coat of arms which has as its supporters a leopard facing a lion. A name which cropped up time and time again was that of Bertrand du Guesclin, a local soldier who rose to be Constable of France. I had first read of him in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's book The White Company without realising that he was a real historical character. He certainly seems to have been an interesting character and one worth studying. 8 April, Plymouth. The train left Paddington on time at 9.25. A very smooth and comfortable journey, arriving in Plymouth 10 minutes early at 13.00. Took a taxi to the port (£3.20) and checked in. Sailing time 15.00. No duty-free shop. 9 April Morlaix, 7.30 am. A smooth crossing. Quite a number of French school kids on board, but they weren't excessively noisy. Beer £1.60 a pint. Duty-free area quite good. The a la carte dinner (foie gras salad, rack of lamb, cheeseboard and coffee) was excellent. We arrived in Roscoff at 10.00 pm local time. By 10.20 I was through passport control and in a taxi heading for Morlaix. The Hotel d 'Europe, of the French gloom school of decor, is functional but comfortable. Beer in the bar is 11 francs per small glass. A female of indeterminate age, either well into middle age or young and who had had a hard life, gave a good impression of a tart trawling for trade. Later: Breakfast at 8.00 in the hotel and then went walkabout. A nice fresh morning. Morlaix is a pretty town set in a steep sided valley. I went through the town centre and turned left up one of the hillsides. The first thing I saw was some graffiti (the only graffiti I saw at all as it turned out) - a clenched fist with one finger raised and the caption in English, "F*** the police". I continued up the hill, following the sign posted tourist walk. This took me along some quiet little areas, which gave off a gentle but distinctive aroma of serious money. We crossed the valley by way of the lower tier of the viaduct which spans it, cutting Morlaix in half. Back to the hotel by way of a charcuterie. In the hotel bar I tried the local brew, Coreff. The dark version was rather moreish, at 6.5% dangerously so. Had a snack lunch and a kip before going out in the afternoon to explore again. Went below the viaduct and along by the port, which was lined with pleasure boats past a couple of promising looking Chinese restaurants, past the cigar factory and the lock on the river and as far down as the road viaduct (the main one carries the railway). There was no more of the town to be seen from here on, so I turned back and took a turning up the hill along the Roscoff road. A public footpath took me along the wooded hilltop overlooking the lower town. The path down the hill brought me out near the cigar factory. Into a bar next to one of the Chinese restaurants for a pleasant half hour drinking Fishers (the beer brewed in Strasbourg), and admiring the very pretty daughter of the house, a tall, very pretty dark haired young lady who made me think of a young version of Eleanor Bron. From there, back to the hotel by way of a couple of bars. One of them, the Hotel Roi du l'Ys, had a powerfully built barman who looked like a fisherman who'd swallowed the anchor and bought a bar. Later: Had a couple of beers in the hotel bar and then went to the Baguettes d 'Or (Golden Chopsticks) one of the Chinese (or more accurately Vietnamese) restaurants near the port. Totally unimpressed; presentation poor, choice limited and food mediocre. Back to the hotel for a nightcap before turning in. 10 April: Packed my bags ready to move in. After breakfast, I went walkabout some wine shops and charcuteries. Unfortunately in Morlaix most of the shops close on a Monday. Fortunately I did find a supermarket open, which was marked down for later use. After a long morning spent exploring the town and port (the other side of the port this time) I went back to the town centre and spent a couple of hours or so sitting outside the Roi du l'Ys drinking beer, watching the world go by and getting sunburnt. At about four o 'clock I went to the supermarket and bought some charcuterie cheese and cider to take home. I dumped it with my baggage and went to the bar to sink a couple of Coreffs while waiting for the restaurant across the road, the Saigon, to open at seven o clock. The Saigon proved to be a vast improvement on the Baguettes d'Or. The surroundings were very pleasant and the food was superb. By the time I had finished, the taxi was waiting to take us to Roscoff. It was a pleasant 20 minute drive through countryside reminiscent of the West Country. After check in at the port I had a couple of hours to spare, so I took a walk into Roscoff itself. It took us half an hour to walk round the bay past the suburbs into Roscoff proper, by which time it was nearly dark. From what I was able to see I wasn't greatly impressed though admit that it might be better in daylight on a sunny day. It seemed to be a very small place geared up for tourists with too many restaurants and twee gift shops. I stopped off for a couple of beers and made my way back to the port. The ferry was the Quiberon, the same one on which I came out. On embarking at 10.45, bags were dumped in the cabin, duty frees were, and a night-cap drunk before turning in. 11 April: Had breakfast (coffee and croissants) on board at 5.30. We disembarked just after six and I took a taxi to Plymouth station where I had over half an hour to wait for the seven o'clock London train. The train left Plymouth punctually, reaching Paddington just after 10.00. Arrived home about 11. 30 and lazed away the rest of the day. Comments:
Brittany Ferries are pleasant to travel by and had everything organised
efficiently. Morlaix is a very pretty, pleasant little town, ideal for
a short break, but preferably as part of a longer holiday in the area.
If one were to stay in the area for any length of time it would be advisable
to have one's own transport. Unfortunately I was there on a Sunday and
Monday, the two days on which many shops and places of interest are closed.
Later in the week it would have been possible to visit the local brewery
and cigar factory. First published in VISA issue 18 (autumn 1995). |