Our favorite travel writer, Rick Steves, has this advice regarding Mont St. Michel: 'Arrive late, depart early.' He was spot on this time. Mont St. Michel is one of those absolutely iconic, 'must see' attractions for every foreign tourist who comes to France. Now it's just reasonably crowded; I can only imagine what a mad house it must be in July and August.
Just this past year, the French government completed an ambitious and well-done project to get people back and forth to the Mont. All parking is off-site; free navettes (shuttle busses) pick you up at the visitor center, shuttle you across the channel on a beautiful raised causeway, and drop you at the perfect photo-op point.
Until recently, getting to the Mont was a carefully-timed adventure. The channel has huge tides (up to 50') and you either made it over and back from the mainland on a bridge that was submerged at high tide or ended up spending the night. And if the tides weren't a deterrent, the channel is laced with quicksand. In the 'old (pre-bridge) days' you had to hire a guide to take you across. I read that in the Middle Ages, the monks recorded 18 deaths in one year either by drowning or being submerged in quicksand.
It's a short walk into Mont town which has something like 25 residents (and a mayor) but logs over three million visitors a year (France's number one site, after the attractions of Paris). I know this is hard to believe, but we had the most amazing midday meal! Somehow our feeble minds remembered to look at Tim's watch and at precisely 1:58 ducked into a very crowded restaurant and found a seat. The waiter asked if we knew what we wanted. 'Could we see the menu?' 'Non, no time!' Good thing we'd pretty much decided before we walked in - and checked out some other diners' plates before we sat down! We were the last people seated for lunch, and it was absolutely delicious - mussels and a boeuf bourguignon (Deb and Paul, stop drooling).
One of the nicest things about dining out in France is that you're never rushed. You can sit at a table forever and never get a 'look' or a waiter hustle. So we sat there, tummies full, and watched the crowds surge back and forth.
This is as close as we got to making the climb up to the monastery.
The Mont is noted in historical records as early as Roman times when it was a military stronghold. Numerous attempts at invasion have failed; the Bayeux Tapestry actually shows riders being rescued from the quicksand after their efforts to take over the Mont. It has been a monastery, a site of pilgrimages, and, for varying periods starting with the French Revolution, a prison. A handful of religious now call the abbey home, and it has been a UNESCO world heritage site since 1979.
A break in the tourist horde . . .
That's a statue of St. Michael at the very tip of the spire.
My photo of the mud flats at low tide. I showed Tim this photo and he quipped 'Don't I wish . . . '
Just this past year, the French government completed an ambitious and well-done project to get people back and forth to the Mont. All parking is off-site; free navettes (shuttle busses) pick you up at the visitor center, shuttle you across the channel on a beautiful raised causeway, and drop you at the perfect photo-op point.
Until recently, getting to the Mont was a carefully-timed adventure. The channel has huge tides (up to 50') and you either made it over and back from the mainland on a bridge that was submerged at high tide or ended up spending the night. And if the tides weren't a deterrent, the channel is laced with quicksand. In the 'old (pre-bridge) days' you had to hire a guide to take you across. I read that in the Middle Ages, the monks recorded 18 deaths in one year either by drowning or being submerged in quicksand.
It's a short walk into Mont town which has something like 25 residents (and a mayor) but logs over three million visitors a year (France's number one site, after the attractions of Paris). I know this is hard to believe, but we had the most amazing midday meal! Somehow our feeble minds remembered to look at Tim's watch and at precisely 1:58 ducked into a very crowded restaurant and found a seat. The waiter asked if we knew what we wanted. 'Could we see the menu?' 'Non, no time!' Good thing we'd pretty much decided before we walked in - and checked out some other diners' plates before we sat down! We were the last people seated for lunch, and it was absolutely delicious - mussels and a boeuf bourguignon (Deb and Paul, stop drooling).
One of the nicest things about dining out in France is that you're never rushed. You can sit at a table forever and never get a 'look' or a waiter hustle. So we sat there, tummies full, and watched the crowds surge back and forth.
This is as close as we got to making the climb up to the monastery.
A break in the tourist horde . . .
That's a statue of St. Michael at the very tip of the spire.
You can see the 'town' snugged up to the monastery.
Technically, the Mont is in Normandy, not Breton. In prehistoric times, it was on totally dry land. Rising sea levels over the centuries made it an island, situated at the mouth of the Couesnon River, the border between Breton and Normandy. Thanks to this ambitious causeway, it will stay an island for a very long time.
If you're a Tour de France fan, Mont Saint Michel is the starting point for the 2016 race.
My photo of the mud flats at low tide. I showed Tim this photo and he quipped 'Don't I wish . . . '
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