Rock on

Pink granite formations, chateaus, islands, and lighthouses rocked our walk and this popular section of the trail set in stone made us feel boulder.

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Harbor hopping

Our luggage hops from harbor town to harbor town by taxi while we hoof it. We enjoy rooms with views each night, though usually we’ve floated off to sleep before the 10:30 sunset.

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Toe-tally awesome

Our coastal path takes us along beaches, across beaches, on shady tree-lined sections, past fields of artichokes, and through tiny hydrangea-filled hamlets. We follow the red-and-white trail markers to stay on track. After our 15 miles the first day, the 14 miles on day two toughened us, blisters and all. 

Mussel memory

All over Normandy and Brittany the locals ravenously slurp up pots of steamed mussels (moules). Served in a big steaming pot, you use the lid for the empty shells. To look like a pro, you pull the orange meat of the first mussel out with your fingers and then use that empty shell as your pincers to pull the meat from the next 99 shells. They eat a lot. I assume the sauce is the main attraction because, well, it’s France. The sauce choices include Camembert, crème, Roquefort, or mariniere (white wine and shallots). Always served with French fries (frites), apparently due to the original Belgian tradition. My only explanation: like escargot, they are easy to catch.

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Tickled pink

About 18 years ago, on a trip to a small town in Brittany with friends, I learned about the long-distance coastal path, the GR34, or “the G” to those in the know. And now here we are on an 8-day walk with those very friends along a section of the path known as the pink granite coast. Blissful rain and a 15-mile day didn’t dampen our spirits one bit.

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Shore thing

With temps still hot we stayed close to the shoreline and headed to northern Normandy where we found small fishing villages and white chalk cliffs (same geologically as the White Cliffs of Dover). We bid our friends au revoir as they head further north and we head south to Brittany. One day our paths will croissant again.

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Goal-den

We kicked it up a notch and joined the watch party at a bar for the French World Cup match. Everyone sang the national anthem and jumped up to scream for their goal models. Pitch perfect!

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