France’s northern coast continues to provide fresh delights. I have no idea why we persisted with inland treks east on prior travels, when the coast has so much to offer.
Today, Normandy gives us the gift of Dieppe – with its deep harbour, beautiful chalk cliffs and long history, there’s a lot on offer. It’s also a major ferry crossing to the UK, one we’ve not yet taken.
Himself renders a first impression: Honfleur on speed, says he. It’s a fair observation – a harbour full of yachts, lined with restaurants, a river out to sea. There’s even a similar merry-go-round. But oh so much bigger and busier.
We’re soon settled and set off to explore. A major construction project thwarts access to park beachside, but our spot on the Arques river mouth offers the opportunity to lap the harbour and observe the steady flow of marine traffic. Fishing trawlers, harbour cruisers and serious yachts rub shoulders with more modest affairs, just out to catch a fishy dinner.
Tides are huge – at least 4 – 5 metres seperate high tide from low. It’s low tide as we set out under the steady caw, caw, caw of enormous gulls. Their speckled chicks have fledged and parents are keeping a watchful eye. Those not as yet confident flyers nestle into seaweed revealed at low tide – it makes excellent camoflauge. In my mind’s ear, their call is the soundtrack to Hitchcock’s Birds. I first saw it as a child but wasn’t until I travelled to the UK decades later that I realised he hadn’t tweaked the soundtrack. In explanation: you’d have to strap four Australian seagulls together to make a UK/European gull – they’re huge. Our gulls’ call is a squeak in comparison.
White chalk cliffs edge our path. Across harbour, past all the water toys for big boys, a riot of colour lines the water. Most buildings feature a restaurant at ground level.
A narrow strip of land, only a few streets wide, seperates harbour from sea. The beach curves for miles, pebbled, of course, so different from Australia’s sandy beaches. They make a pleasing clatter underfoot. It’s quite novel to walk a beach and emerge not covered in sand. The sea has graded the beach into two fairly steep levels leading into the water – the undertow here must be truly fierce.
The harbour extends to a long jetty split into two parts out to sea. Families promenade the calmer harbour side, an occasional young fisherman trying his luck. Oceanside meanwhile, has the serious anglers – multiple rods battle big waves for the day’s catch. It’s a calm day but given the open structural design of the jetty, ferocious waves are a likely regular event.
Inland, half timbered cottages hold their ground against the 1960s apartment blocks lining the seafront. Flint features regularly in construction. I would have loved to have seen the seaside before the apartment block boom. One can only imagine the architecture lost to the craze for modern boxy construction. *Sigh*
Himself calls time eventually and we settle harbourside for drinks. A double decker merry go round and the parade of passing yachts provide the entertainment. We’re in agreement, both quite taken with Dieppe.
Himself tears me away eventually. I’ll freely admit to not having an off switch – if I love something, it’s Himself’s thankless task to coax me home. He has his work cut out for him if creatures are involved. 😂🐾
We contemplate staying out for dinner, but opt for lunch tomorrow instead. Our return sees the ferry in port and if you look closely, you’ll see our motorhome aire to the right – it couldn’t be a more convenient location as a crossing stop over.
The following day, lunch comes with a bonus – Vietnamese fare. Yes!!! I practically skip there. We have spicy prawns and beef with noodles . Pork spring rolls with fresh herbs too, but again, inhaled with excitement before I remembered to photograph. There’s a raised eyebrow of amusement from our waiter when I order it spicy – the French are not fans of chili, it seems.
The museum has a growing collection including this recently acquired modern sculpture. ‘The Frame’ is rather fabulous, appearing completely different depending on the angle from which it’s viewed. Himself is very generously patient when asked to be a prop, given that he has to wait his turn to do so.
The museum has a growing collection including this recently acquired modern sculpture. ‘The Frame’ is rather fabulous, appearing completely different depending on the angle from which it’s viewed. Himself is very generously patient when asked to be a prop, given that he has to wait his turn to do so.
After lunch we make the long trek to Chateau Musee de Dieppe on foot, through the shopping precinct. Along the way, we get a glimpse of architecture long since wiped from the seafront. If these buildings are indicative of what was lost, it would have been glorious.
It’s a hot day and Google maps has a rare failing, sending us well out of our way. We twig when the promised 2 km walk has well passed and turn back, finding the Chateau eventually. I feel for the couple ahead of us that plowed on, following Google to the letter. We lapped them at one stage during the type of silently tense exchange that only a long term relationship can generate. A few extra kilometres up hill to no avail in the heat would not have improved that situation.
The museum is housed in Dieppe’s 14th century castle, surrounded by enormous fortified walls – just my cup of tea. Goats with jobs provide gardening services to the moat’s sloped walls.
The museum features 2,300 object d’art across 12 rooms and includes extensive art, sculpture, marine heritage and ivory collections.
In rooms filled with extraordinary works, the eye is drawn to Renoir’s work like a magnet. What incredible talent.
Viewed through modern eyes, the ivory collection is particularly confronting. There’s no denying the skill of the workmanship or the beauty of the work, but it’s impossible to view the vast display without feeling the death of the magnificent creatures behind it. The closest I can come to aligning those very opposing facts is acknowledging that in being housed in a museum, these pieces have been forever removed from trade. It’s a sad fact that the only way to stop ivory poaching is to remove the demand for it.
Amongst the sculptures, I particularly love these fine bone china ratties, very taken by their stolen escargot snack.
Also a favourite is this Louis XVI china cabinet. Oh for a house full of French antiques. Insert pointed discussion with Himself here, him explaining to me, not for the first (hundredth?) time, exactly why I don’t have a French chateau of my own, to fill with said French antiques.
After viewing the collections, the museum offers an eagle’s eye view over Dieppe and the sea. These alone are worth the very modest price of admission.
The museum has a growing collection, including this recent addition. ‘The Frame’ is rather fabulous, appearing completely different depending on the angle from which it’s viewed. Himself is endlessly patient when asked to be a prop, especially when he has to wait in turn to do so.
Eventually, he has to drag me away. I’ll freely admit to not having an off switch. When I love something, it’s often Himself’s thankless task to coax me home. He has his job cut out for him when creatures are involved. 😂🐾
On the way been we stop in at the Eglise Saint Remy with its 16th century chapel and gorgeous stained glass windows. Unusually, they’re set low, offering a rarely seen up close view of their intricate detail.
Our walk home the rest of the way is along the sea. We cross Dieppe’s only remaining fortified gate, once one of seven.
There’s even more lovely architecture of course, and just look at this fierce boy.
Back in the harbour the tour boats are coming in. We see the bridge come up as yachts cruise through and the tide has risen in its eternal cycle. Left to my own devices, I would explore for hours yet.
We both love Dieppe – it looks like we’ve found a new ferry crossing for future visits to France.
France’s northern coast is really offering up some gems. I’m so glad we decided to travel home this way.
Miss Baci Travels 