Planning my next days of driving through France, I had two main ideas in mind. One would take me from St. Malo to Paris for the usual postcard moments: the TWIKE with the Eiffel Tower, sneaking in on the square in front of the glass pyramid of the Louvre, the Arc de Triomphe or even Notre Dame.
The other would be slower, quieter and more reflective, crossing wide parts of rural France, with its small towns, even smaller villages, vast nature parks and open countryside.
Thirteen years ago, I crossed southern France in a TWIKE and the memory of it has stayed with me since then. That TWIKE adventure showed me the pleasure of leaving space for the unexpected.
This time, I settled on an approximate route and decided not to plan much more than that.
I got up early, ready to leave at 6.30 am. From my hotel room the light already hinted at another beautiful day ahead.
The TWIKE was waiting fully charged, looking out over the bay of St. Malo.
Crossing the bridge across the bay, I found myself in more traffic than I expected at this early hour.
I decided to follow the coast for a while. The morning light painted the sea and sky in soft colors that made me slow down and just take it in.
As the sun rose higher, the last wisps of cloud disappeared. The sky deepened into a dark blue and the road stretched out across flat fields and marshland…the sea never far away.
After a while it was time for breakfast. In France, this is never complicated. A village, no matter how small, will almost always have a boulangerie. I stopped at one that looked especially inviting.
It turned out to be a simple, warm place with the scent of fresh bread greeting me at the door.
After this short stop I kept following the coastline, with one destination – one of France’s main tourist attractions – in mind: Mont Saint-Michel.
It is difficult to put into words how unusual this place feels. The land around it is flat and open, so when Mont Saint-Michel appears on the horizon it feels almost unreal. Rising from the marshes and salt meadows, the abbey commands a presence that seems both timeless and otherworldly.
You find yourself stopping simply to look. What first seems like a distant vision soon becomes a solid reality, more remarkable with every kilometre you come closer.
As I got closer, there was more detail: the tower, the stone walls, and the houses clinging to the rock as if they had always been there. I decided to see how near I could get, then perhaps even cross the main bridge on foot and walk onto the mount itself.
But soon I reached the long line of cars and buses already queuing on the approach. Even the motorbike parking lot was charging 10€ for just four hours, which felt rather steep.
Following the flow of people from the parking lot, I quickly realised what awaited me: a huge crowd already making its way to Mont St. Michel, and it was only 9:30 in the morning. That was enough for me to turn around.
Instead, I decided to take a few photos with the TWIKE from a quieter distance and then continue towards some nature reserves and open roads where I could enjoy the drive in peace.
On the way out I was rewarded with some fine views and photo opportunities, which more than made up for not visiting the place itself.
As I wrote earlier, I was also hoping to come across some small French villages along the way, places full of charm and everyday life.
France did not disappoint.
The roads helped make the day even better. Unlike what I had experienced in the UK and Belgium, here they were mostly smooth and well kept, which made driving such a pleasure.
On @veryusefulmaps I found this overview which, from my experience, is quite accurate:
Back to the joy of those French roads.
What followed was hour after hour of driving through fields and forests, an unhurried and calming rhythm.
To give you a sense of it, I made a hyper-lapse film of half an hour of driving along such roads. Come along for the ride:
Around midday I arrived in Sées, a town with a grand church and a solid-looking Hôtel de Ville dominating the main square. It felt like the right place to stop for lunch.
On the square I found a small local restaurant where I could sit in the shade, enjoy the view, and order a classic from Normandy.
I went for Jarrotin au Munster, a dish not often chosen by visitors. The Jarrotin is the lower part of the pig’s leg, served on the bone with skin and fat intact. It is a rich, rustic dish full of flavour, and I enjoyed every bite.
Back on the road, the sky stretched wide and blue above me, the TWIKE humming along from village to village. With an intergalactic mix playing, these hours felt wonderfully meditative.
By evening I reached the outskirts of Orléans, checked into a small hotel, plugged in the TWIKE for a slow charge and headed into town for dinner.
It was a full day, and I am grateful for all of it.
