220km in the north of Brittany

At the end of May, I rushed to an improvised little raid to discover the wild and proud landscapes of Brittany. I was instantly charmed by its sumptuous chiaroscuro lights, its web of small deserted routes, perfect to train fighting against weather, distance and very uneven relief at one’s own pace. I kicked along the Eurovelo4 and 1, which led me from Plouaret to Roscoff and Cléder, through Tremel, Plestin-les-Grèves, Plouganou, the rocky Morlaix, Saint-Pol-de-Léon where I reached the total of 2000km added-up to the km counter, Sibiril…

I had the occasion of tasting the best buckwheat pancakes, skillfully folded by a proud cook in love with her products, of lazing around at a farm where hens and goats are fed in liberty with genuine grains and of whom fresh cheeses easily won over my veganism, I slept in pasturelands, fearing that I might get up in the early morning surrounded by giant herbivore jaws, contemplated from high large rocks some luminous and windy coves valued by surfers, and savored the most unctuous and heavenly salted butter toffee…

Whilst spending two hours on the raw stone of Roscoff, contemplating the tiny variations of light in the sunset, I forgot the burns from the treacherous star inherited from a windy day without much clouds : two weeks later, one could say that my new stripped skin tan (white hands, dark arms, white shoulders) reminds me constantly of excellent cyclotourist memories!








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