We could spend weeks exploring Breton and after puzzling over the map and a few of the many brochures Caroline left for us, decide we'll take make our first outing to Fort la Latte (I mean how can you resist a fort named for our favorite caffeinated beverage?). It doesn't appear to be that long a drive but we're learning that French country roads are not accurately depicted on any maps . . . what looks like 20 maybe 25 km when shown as a couple of squiggly roads can chew up 45-60 minutes of drive time.
The Breton coastline is wonderfully rugged and scenic. Its northern border, just west of Normandy runs all the way out to the westernmost tip of France (Brest) and then around and south where it borders the Atlantic. Close to the English Channel part of the Breton coast and technically part of Normandy but under the jurisdiction of the UK (confused yet?), are The Channel Islands, a 90" ferry ride from St. Malo, an ancient walled city in Breton. Politically and administratively, the Channel Islands are sort of a part of the UK (but not in the EU - I know, huh?) and enjoy a unique relationship with the Crown which I'm sure goes back to William the Conqueror. One of my all-time favorite reads, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society is set on one of the Channel Islands during the German occupation of WWII. But I digress . . . maybe it's thinking about forts and scenic coastlines.
Here we are, ready to enter Fort la Latte.
Fort la Latte was one of the prime defensive positions on this part of the coast, built to ward off invaders from both land and sea. Invaders by land used a battering ram; ever wonder why it was called a 'ram'?
We concluded that this was the most common farm animal in Breton, everyone knew what it looked like, and many had felt the brunt of its head and horns.
This is not a big fort, in fact it's pretty small based on forts we've seen, but it comes complete with a drawbridge and a dungeon which is described in gruesome detail. The Fort's history dates back to the 14th century, but local legend has it that it was originally a wooden keep and watchtower from as early as the 900's. It was destroyed several times, rebuilt, and then restored as a national monument in the 20th century in keeping with its feudal origins.
The placques scattered in different locations are only modestly informative - no doubt the result of a non-native English speaker translating from French. Small as it it is, the Fort has a sweet chapel.
We learn that this is privately held by a family from Monaco and as Tim observed, 'This is a good gig; 5 euros a head and no doubt exemption from property tax because it's a national monument.'
One part of the fort has a door marked 'prive' but I sneak a photo through the glass. Obviously this was where the fort commandant and his family lived; based on the PC and printer, the current occupants are hooked firmly to the 21st century.
View along the ramparts . . .
And the gorgeous Breton coastline below . . .
All this traipsing over ramparts has left us with a big appetite so it's off to find a restaurant that's open (seems that every restaurant in France - other than the ever-present/ever-open McDonald's - closes between the hours of 2pm and either 5:30 or 7:30pm!) Fortunately, we find one in a small town and tuck into a gaillette:
Gaillettes can never have more than three ingredients - ours have egg, ham, and cheese. We lick the plates clean! Note the upside down writing on the placemat - Lancelot is claimed as one of the most famous Bretons and 'Breizh' is the politically correct spelling.
On to Brittany's most famous and iconic attraction, Mont St. Michel.
The Breton coastline is wonderfully rugged and scenic. Its northern border, just west of Normandy runs all the way out to the westernmost tip of France (Brest) and then around and south where it borders the Atlantic. Close to the English Channel part of the Breton coast and technically part of Normandy but under the jurisdiction of the UK (confused yet?), are The Channel Islands, a 90" ferry ride from St. Malo, an ancient walled city in Breton. Politically and administratively, the Channel Islands are sort of a part of the UK (but not in the EU - I know, huh?) and enjoy a unique relationship with the Crown which I'm sure goes back to William the Conqueror. One of my all-time favorite reads, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society is set on one of the Channel Islands during the German occupation of WWII. But I digress . . . maybe it's thinking about forts and scenic coastlines.
Here we are, ready to enter Fort la Latte.
Fort la Latte was one of the prime defensive positions on this part of the coast, built to ward off invaders from both land and sea. Invaders by land used a battering ram; ever wonder why it was called a 'ram'?
We concluded that this was the most common farm animal in Breton, everyone knew what it looked like, and many had felt the brunt of its head and horns.
This is not a big fort, in fact it's pretty small based on forts we've seen, but it comes complete with a drawbridge and a dungeon which is described in gruesome detail. The Fort's history dates back to the 14th century, but local legend has it that it was originally a wooden keep and watchtower from as early as the 900's. It was destroyed several times, rebuilt, and then restored as a national monument in the 20th century in keeping with its feudal origins.
The placques scattered in different locations are only modestly informative - no doubt the result of a non-native English speaker translating from French. Small as it it is, the Fort has a sweet chapel.
We learn that this is privately held by a family from Monaco and as Tim observed, 'This is a good gig; 5 euros a head and no doubt exemption from property tax because it's a national monument.'
One part of the fort has a door marked 'prive' but I sneak a photo through the glass. Obviously this was where the fort commandant and his family lived; based on the PC and printer, the current occupants are hooked firmly to the 21st century.
View along the ramparts . . .
And the gorgeous Breton coastline below . . .
All this traipsing over ramparts has left us with a big appetite so it's off to find a restaurant that's open (seems that every restaurant in France - other than the ever-present/ever-open McDonald's - closes between the hours of 2pm and either 5:30 or 7:30pm!) Fortunately, we find one in a small town and tuck into a gaillette:
On to Brittany's most famous and iconic attraction, Mont St. Michel.
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