Wonder-struck, Victor Hugo too, discovered at a bend in the road
this ancient and beautiful city, stone-crafted, cleaving to the rocks as
a house-martin’s nest above the precipice…
From Dinan by Gerard Malherbe
Arriving at the empty Dinan train station we were the only passengers to get off the small commuter train on a Saturday morning. No hordes of tourists and no locals. Art and I didn’t say anything as we maneuvered our suitcases across the tracks, into the station, and out the front door to look for our hotel. It all seemed a ghost town and we knew what the other was thinking. “What have we done? This doesn’t look like much of the “must see” place we read about in the guidebook.”
After asking directions on the street to our hotel, we headed uphill dragging suitcases on rough cobblestone sidewalks towards a roundabout and the centre ville or the center of town. Things started to look more promising as we walked to the Ibis Hotel that had been advertised on Booking.com as being ”5 minutes from the train station”. It was a 15 to 20 minute walk instead. Once checked in, we asked directions to the Tourist Office so we could get reassurance that Dinan was the “not to be missed” medieval town that we had come here to visit.
Rick Steves writes in his guidebook that Dinan is a “must see” town if one only has a short time in Brittany. Yet, following through on recommendations in a travel guidebook is a gamble. There could be hordes of tourists or perhaps it might not be so great. We had decided to take a chance and go for a weekend to Dinan when we were looking to extend our Brittany visit.
A taxi driver had dropped us off at the Lanion train station the morning after our Inntravel trip ended. Traveling on two small commuter trains for 2.5 hrs. to Dinan was fun. These small trains (more like electric metro cars) that traverse the countryside are enjoyable for short distances. The journey to Dinan took us through rural green lush Breton farmland and past fields with grazing cows. It was a clear sunny morning which we took as a good sign since the weather in Brittany is so changeable. We went past tidy villages, each with tall steeple of a Catholic church sticking high above the town and neat Breton style bungalows mostly made of stone with slate roofs. We were heading east from the Granite Coast and away from the ocean… more inland. The changeover to a second train was easy at a small station and we were on our way once again with very few travelers or commuters.
Dinan, a medieval city with a thousand-year-old history, is built along the banks of the estuary of the Rance River and up into the hills above. For eight centuries this was an important port for traders and pilgrims from Spain, France, and as far away as the Holy Land. It fell into disrepair and neglect in the mid 19thcentury when an imposing viaduct was built. In recent years much of the old part has been restored to become a popular destination for French and foreign tourists.
I confess we were captivated entering the “old city” and walking past the half-timbered houses with slate roofs while wandering the steep, narrow cobblestone streets that take you from the river up to the city center. There is a 12thcentury church, Saint Saviours, to explore with tombstones of fallen knights from the Middle Ages carved into them. ( I was reminded of my semester abroad in England when we sought out country churches to do brass rubbings of such tombs – something that has long been banned.) We walked around the ramparts that surround Dinan …left when it was fortified by Breton Dukes against invaders. There are gates and towers and even a moat for Middle Ages enthusiasts. There is a Clock tower that once was a town alarm and announced curfew time. Today it still watches over Dinan while tourists can climb to the top for an aerial view of the old city.
The Clock Tower
Dinan is full of unusual artisan galleries, gift shops, creperies, and outdoor restaurants all in the Old City. Imagine our delight at coming across yet another Michelin star restaurant – Le Canterbury, exactly at 1:15 p.m. when we were ready to stop for lunch. We thought we had left that elegant dining behind at our three hotels along the Granite Coast….but no. We were seated at an intimate table for two. A small restaurant, we noticed there were only well-dressed older French customers eating here. It was full. We guessed they were local to the area as the hostess /owner seemed friendly with everyone. We settled in for what turned out to be another exquisite three course meal with appetizer, main course, and fancy dessert. Only this time it was an unforgettable lunch.
Michelin star restaurant
Appetizer of Goat Cheese wrapped in pastry dough
Still in our walking mode, we had inquired at the Tourist Office where we could take a long walk outside of Dinan.
“Mais, bien sur, le long de la riviere Rance…” we were told.
We set out in the cool of the next morning to walk several miles on the wide, flat asphalt path along the Rance River. We were told there was another medieval town called Lehon which was our destination. We were not the only ones doing this walk as there were French bikers, as well as families enjoying the exercise, sunshine, and views of the quiet and lazy river. Tall leafy green trees provided lots of shade. In the distance we could hear the church bells ringing reminding us it was Sunday morning. If we looked up as we walked out of Dinan we could see the ramparts and part of the stone wall surrounding the city. The Rance River narrows on the way to Lehon and just outside the village there are locks which, if you are traveling by small boat, you must go through.
Lehon turned out to be another “gem” although much smaller and quieter than Dinan. The church and cloisters as well as the narrow winding streets provided lots to see for an entire morning until we hiked back to Dinan and opted to sit outside at one of the many restaurants along the Rance for a late lunch. By the end of our second day in Dinan we had walked many miles and hadn’t even noticed.
Monday morning we walked the 20 minutes back to the Dinan train station. It was just as empty as when we arrived but a helpful train employee was on duty and reassured us that we would have no problems changing trains twice before our arrival in Montparnasse Paris.
“We’ll have to stay alert to watch for where we get off and where we change trains,” I told Art .
All was went well on the two commuter trains from Dinan until we arrived in the Rennes train station. Being one of the major cities in Brittany, Rennes has a big train station.
There were no conductors in sight so I stopped a French woman to ask, ““D’ou part le train pour Montparnasse?”
“Voie 6,” she said.
Knowing we had a 9-minute layover, we headed underground to Track 6 and then up the stairs to the platform. There was a sign and a train waiting to leave for Paris. Great! We had reserved seats in Car #18 and as we started down the platform looking for our car the numbers were going down…away from 18! There was not a conductor on the platform and people were rushing to board the train. Minutes before it was scheduled to leave Art grabbed my bag and his and said “just get on”. We did.
The train was packed with every seat taken and luggage racks full. The train began to move but but we had not found our car. We began walking from car to car until we came across the first conductor we had seen since arriving in Rennes. I showed him our tickets to ask where Car #18 was.
“C’est l’autre train,” he said pointing to the track next to us. Then in his broken English and my floundering French we understood that there were two trains leaving Rennes at the same time for the same station in Paris. We had boarded the wrong one. How were we to know that?
“Un minute, s’il vous plait,” he indicated we should wait a minute.
He made a phone call and then disappeared into the next car while we waited. He came back to motion that we should follow him. He had found two separate seats in the next car for us. Our luggage was piled outside the car along with everyone’s who had not found space in the luggage racks.
As we pulled out of Rennes, I briefly mourned the loss of our reserved seats that were probably empty in Car #18 on the other train and then shut that thought out. Moving as far away from the man sitting next to me who reeked of alcohol and was nursing a beer at 11 a.m. I told myself that it was only an hour and fifteen minute trip to Paris. Thank goodness! Art and I were disappointed that we had gotten off to such a good start leaving Dinan. We had wanted to sail through all the train changes without a glitch. It was not to be.
Paris beckoned as we emerged from the Gare Montparnasse to find a taxi and head to the apartment I had booked online overlooking the Luxembourg Gardens.
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