We’ve spent a good deal of the past 13 years wandering where the road takes us without any version of a plan beyond starting and end points. The joys along the way differ – the countryside, local architecture, regional history. A stroll through an occasional market. Spotting country cottages that could easily tempt me away from cities. Enjoying a meal that’s a speciality of the area. It’s quite possible to fill a three month journey ‘researching’ bread alone, another exploring charcuterie, always a regionaly unquiue fingerprint, possibly a third (and fourth) on cheese. And don’t get me started on the raptures of French butter…
It’s incomprehensible to some. Those who travel with an Insta checklist come to mind. We spot them from time to time, in the more traditional tourist spots, hanging over a precipice/ looking into the distance/balancing a pose while an endlessly patient friend/partner/hostage snaps away in the quest for a ‘gram worthy post. These are not my people. Give me the slow road, the local experience, the history we weren’t taught in school, the places I escaped to through books, the foodstuffs out of reach in Australia. It’s these I’ll miss the most when the motorhome is gone.
Feeling a little wistful today, as you may have picked up.
Meanwhile days in France start with the search for a baguette. Not just any baguette mind, it has to be a ‘baguette de tradition’.
French law requires these to be made fresh on site, without additives or freezing, using only flour, water, salt, and yeast. This traditional process also demands a longer fermentation time, results in a crunchy crust, an open crumb and a deeper flavor. In a word, yum.
Today’s search is conducted in Saint Pierre Eglise. It’s a quick visit to the Boulanger but there’s plenty to see on the way – a rather impressive church,
the once communal lavery (laundry)
and some lovely homes.
Amusingly, we’ve spotted an increasing trend in this corner of France – pizza vending machines! They’re everywhere. Seafood vending machines too – the local catch in individually refrigerated components, available at the swipe of a credit card.
Enroute to Barfleur we stop at the pink granite Gateville Lighthouse. At just under 75 metres, it’s one of the tallest traditional lighthouses in the world. Built between 1829 – 1834 as a replacement for the 1774 tower (still standing in front of it, second pic below and now used as a semaphore station) the lighthouse guide ships through the dangerous currents around Barfleur. A few hearty souls climb to the top but you’ll excuse me, there’s a baguette calling my name.
Post lunch, Barfleur is a mere hop away. With its austere grey granite and bustling fishing harbour, it’s listed as one of Normandy’s Les Plus Beaux villages and was this region’s major port through the Middle Ages.
We walk the sea wall into the village under threatening clouds. It’s a challenge to see in the photo but that’s a sheer drop to the left. Not our best move in a high wind perhaps. Note to self: Do. Not. Look. Down.
It’s a popular spot with with local holiday makers – the Aires all along this coast are full of French motorhomes.
We’re lucky that the 17th century Eglise Saint Nicolas is open. It’s home to a maritime cemetery and a sadly long list of men lost to the sea.
The church features a 16th century Flemish alterpiece, intricately detailed mosaic floors and a deep blue ceiling adorned with gold stars.
They boast a local saint too, Mary Madeleine Postel. A rather gruesome bone relic is proudly on display. Apologies for the very average photos that don’t do the colours justice – the church lighting was a challenge.
The wind drives us home earlier than anticipated. It’s whipped up since we set out, even the birds are take shelter in the coastal dovecot.
The Gateville Lighthouse beam sweeps the bay through the night, accompanied by hourly church bells in a long practiced rhythm.
Rain sets in the following day but there’s a brief break to zip out for lunch. You can’t really visit a fishing village and not try the local catch.
I can’t go past the grilled lobster. It’s incredibly sweet, perfectly cooked, made all the more delectable with little dipping pots of melted Normandy butter. A truly swoon worthy meal. Himself fares well too, with a cod in Asian broth, enriched with ginger and mushrooms. We’re both purring contentedly post lunch, barely noticing the drenching we take on the way home.
Himself drives on, torrential rain regardless as I marinate in happy lobster memories. Fabulous doesn’t begin to cover it.
Miss Baci Travels 