We fell into our now normal routine of getting up, feeding the hound and making ourselves a cuppa. We got organised fairly quickly as we had our ferry to Dinard to catch, so we headed off, saying goodbye to our neighbours who were packing up to leave.
We had to walk all the way back to the Old Town to get the ferry – there was no rush as the ferries were quite frequent. There were a lot of joggers out running on the front, weaving in and out of everyone. We arrived at the little kiosk and purchased our tickets – we had timed it perfectly as the boat was due to go in five minutes.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dinard
It was a small boat with open seating at the bow and stern or inside if you so wished. We sat at the back and watched St Malo shrink – it was only a ten minute journey across the river – before long, the boat had docked at the quayside and we all disembarked. We walked down the Promenade Du Clair De Lune (this was full of joggers too) admiring the beautiful buildings set on the rocks above us, with splendid views over to St Malo. There were lots of boats anchored in the bay, bobbing in the gentle tide – it was very beautiful. We came across a little cafe and had a coffee, before climbing up into the town itself and heading over to the Saint Enogat area, some 30 minutes of walking as there was apparently a street market. So we wandered the streets of Dinard, passing houses and shops, down narrow streets – the architecture was quite beautiful where even new buildings fitted into their surroundings seamlessly. It all felt timeless. We came across a busy intersection of restaurants and shops, but headed up a back street, lined with fabulous villas hiding behind tall walls and metal gates, for another kilometre, before finally we arrived at the market. It stretched along a road which had been closed off to traffic and where people had set up tables and stalls selling clothes, bric and brac, toys, babywear, basically allsorts. It was probably the same as our car boot sales, but on an elegant urban street rather than in a tatty field and out of a white van. There was lot of stuff for sale, heaving with people milling around looking at the tables – it was obviously very popular and well supported. We picked up two stubby little wine glasses for the Van and as we walked back down the street for another look, we felt the first drops of rain. We had seen the weather apps and had come prepared with waterproofs and umbrellas, but as it was lunchtime, we ducked under the awning of a nearby fish restaurant and decided to have lunch just as the heavens opened.
It was a real shame as the crowds scurried off and the vendors hurriedly covered their wares with tarpaulin – the fabulous vibe disappeared and it all went very quiet. We ordered our food – lobster and salmon – which was delicious as the rain finally petered out and eventually stopped, though the clouds hung heavy. The stall holders unwrapped their goods and the people began to return. We wandered down a side road towards the beach, coming across a few more stalls before setting foot on the sand and releasing the hound as she was allowed on this beach. Released was the word as she charged across the sand with wild abandon – she just ran and ran in big, wide circles, which was fun to watch – she hadn’t had a good run for a few days. In the far corner, there was a man-made concrete path built into the rocks, so we followed that as it weaved its way around the edge of the coastline, high above the water – again above us, large elegant villas had been built with commanding views across the English Channel. It was very beautiful.
We finally came across the Plage de l’Ecluse, another wide, curving sandy beach and as we came to the actual beachfront, there were all these little white doors in a row – they looked like entrances of the little beach huts back home. On closer inspection some had names printed on them – mainly French ones and we could see no connection. Then the names of Roger Moore, Kirsten Scott Thomas, Emily Watson and we realised that it was part of the Dinard Film Festival, which was fast approaching – it also made sense with the Union Jack flags everywhere. Apparently it’s celebrating 37 years of British and Irish film making…….
We had to make a decision – we could carry on around another headland or cut a corner off by walking through town. We chose the latter. We dropped down onto the Promenade again, pleased to see that the joggers had finally gone home. By now we had really done most of Dinard (we had walked over 7 miles again) – and with it being Sunday, the shops were all shut, so we couldn’t do any browsing. So we decided to catch the little ferry back to St Malo – again we timed it perfectly and we caught it with a minute to go. The tide determines where the ferry can dock, so we had to scuttle down a different and longer slipway to reach the boat.
With the clouds still overcast and broody, we chugged across the mouth of the river back to St Malo and walked back to our campsite, feeling little droplets of rain. Once back, we sat outside drinking our tea, when we noticed a big black cloud. We hurriedly packed all our outdoor stuff back in the Van as the first drops fell – we’re leaving tomorrow and don’t fancy lugging wet mats and chairs with us and trying to get them dry. We retreated inside, just beating a heavy shower. It soon stopped and I wandered down to the postbox to post some postcards which I had forgotten to post – they had a lovely tour of Dinard and would of joined us for many days if I hadn’t taken the opportunity to waddle down. Back at the Van we raided the fridge and had a picky tea and chilled. It rained on and off for the rest of the evening with haunting sound of foghorns piercing the evening air – we wondered if St Malo had a curfew like airports as the horns were quite resounding. Occasionally you heard the deep throbbing engines of the cross channel ferries as they approached the harbour too – it was kind of eerie listening to it all.
It was the first time we had been confined inside the van by rain since we left England – our first bit of bad weather. Tomorrow looked wet too, but we were travelling again, heading west and further up the coast, so it wouldn’t be a problem. We fell asleep listening to the splattering of raindrops on the roof of the Van.
