I woke feeling better, the drugs were definitely working! So we set off to explore the Crozon Peninsula and walk along the coast.The Térénez Bridge over the Aulne River was stunning! It reminded me of the Calatrava Bridge I had seen last autumn, in Galicia. We drove through narrow roads along the coast, with frequent views of river, sea, mist, cows – very pretty. Continue reading
It had been a long day – Lampaul-Guimiliau, Guimiliau, and St Thégonnec – my first day out of bed and drugged to the eyeballs – I needed some fresh air and a short walk on top of the Monts d’Arrées cleared my head. Continue reading
There was one more church to visit – Notre Dame at St Thégonnec. Maybe I was just tired – my first day out after nearly three days in bed – but somehow this church did not catch my imagination. It was very grand – almost like a cathedral – perhaps I had been spoiled by the intimacy of Lampaul-Guimiliau and Guimiliau. Continue reading
Guimiliau is named after Miliau, a Breton Prince who was assassinated at some point between 6C and 9C and subsequently canonised, and means the place or town of Miliau. We isited to see the Church, another of the remarkable Enclos Paroissials in the Élorn Valley. On the pretext that I needed to wrap some food around all the drugs I was taking we first enjoyed a wonderful galette! Continue reading
Days 7 and 8 in France passed in a haze of antibiotics and painkillers, but on Day 10, stuffed with medication, I pulled myself out of bed for some gentle exploration and we set off to look at the recommended stars of the Enclos Paroissials – Lampaul-Guimiliau, Guimiliau, and St Thegonnec. Continue reading
And finally a visit to La Roche-Maurice before returning to Sizun. What a day!
After visiting Ploudiry, La Martyre, and Pencran Churches and feeling increasingly ill, it was time for a little lunch in Landerneau. And I regret that we did not explore – on the other hand the Galettes at the Crêperie du Pont were amazingly delicious and the Giacometti Exhibition was wonderful. Continue reading