L'APPEL DU VIDE
Chapter 2
La traversée
So we took the overnight Brittany Ferries crossing to Saint-Malo - in my opinion, the best way to get to Brittany (France). I love ferries. So does Tomasz. So we were buzzing to be on-board. The boat was basically brand new. The weather was golden hour-perfection. Naturally we enjoyed ourselves, we had a few drinks and talked route strategy, ate some dinner and got some well needed shut-eye.
Before I continue if you missed the first chapter click here.
Day One: Contre le vent
We woke up, wandered out onto deck, and watched the sun rise as we cruised into Saint-Malo. Some really beautiful views. We had a coffee and discussed the first order of business: Croque Monsieur, C'était délicieux! Fuelled up and in Saint-Malo, we hit the road. 90km to cover. ETA: 8pm. Destination: Plessala, Le Mene... Easy!?
The first stop came quickly — a little town called Pleurtuit, about 15km in. Mostly uphill. I’d forgotten how hilly Brittany was. That said, I was doing okay. Legs felt good. Ass was holding up. I was thinking: C'est possible que Tomasz was right. Maybe this’ll be fine...
The sky was turning grey by now and the wind was picking up, but the countryside was beautiful, vraiment. The ride had been chilled so far, I wasn't worried about the rest of the journey. We were chilling.
That's me by the way. Hi i'm Seth. Designer and Director at Idioma. Look how happy I am.
LA Route
Saint Malo, Pleurtuit, Jugon-Les-Lacs, Collinée.
Destination - Plessala, Bretagne, France.
Approx 90KM. 30KM Headwind. Elevation Gain 1040 Metres.
Le vent de face
Then came the headwind. 30km/h, straight at us. Constant. It didn't really settle in, more just came out of nowhere. The climbs were longer by now. Tomasz was still kind enough to wait for me at the top, though he kept checking his watch... I started to wonder: Is he telling me to hurry up? Turned out he was just navigating. Thank God! But the effort was starting to wear. I could feel every bit of the weight I was carrying at this point. My legs were working, but the bike felt like it wasn’t moving. My ass was starting to go but I was smiling, genuinely.
We stopped again, still on this never-ending hill - to talk about the wind and figure out where we could pee. Turns out with that wind absolutely nowhere. We pushed on, aiming to make it halfway before lunch - for morale, more than anything.
saucisson
Le déjeuner - Jugon-Les-Lacs
By the time we arrived in Jugon-les-Lacs, we’d covered 45km, climbed 513m, and had been moving for 3 hours. I was well ready for a break. Getting off the bike felt strange but great, my legs were working but walking felt weird! Sadly everywhere was closed for food, but we found a Tabac (a French pub) and ordered the only thing on the menu: pâté in many forms, croûtons, and an entire saucisson sec. Naturally, we added a couple of small beers. Necessary at this point. We sat outside and the wind calmed slightly, and the sun made a shy return. We talked route, weather, and ominously more hills. The hardest part lay ahead. It felt good to use my ropey French. Le Canotier, a nice tabac in Jugon-Les-Lacs.
La colline aux pas infinis
By the time we left Jugon-les-Lacs, evening was creeping in. The roads got busier - classic Breton rush hour and being mostly farmland, that meant big agricultural vehicles overtaking us slowly as we crawled up hill after hill. The headwind had returned with a vengeance. My bike felt even heavier after lunch. And now, all I could think was: Why did I pack so much? Did I really need that camera? Wouldn’t my phone have done just fine? Why did I sign up for this again?
We were headed toward Collinée. Tomasz warned me there might be “some slightly harder hills” up ahead. Slightly? The place is literally called Collinée (Hilly). I’d been there before - I remember my car struggling. We started climbing.
At this point, the wind was so strong that we had to pedal even on the downhill stretches just to keep moving. My legs were done. My ass was wrecked. And now, to complete the set, it started raining. I had somewhat prepared for rain but I’d totally underestimated the wind. Even Tomasz started complaining. There was no relief, just relentless resistance.
il pleut
Tomasz pulled out a proper cycling rain jacket - sleek, aerodynamic, lightweight. Sensible. Me? I remembered I had packed a sample poncho a friend had once designed for Idioma. I figured, why not test it out? Turns out a poncho in gale-force wind is basically a sail. I was soaked, dragging dead weight, wearing a wind-catching kite on my back. Tomasz tried to boost morale with some drum’n’bass from his speaker, but the wind was so loud and he was too far ahead. The cows in the fields seemed to enjoy it, though.
LE POINT DE RUPTURE
The hill to Collinée was endless. I stopped multiple times. Seriously considered throwing half my gear into a ditch and picking it up with a car later. Would that count as cheating? We were close to my dad’s now, and Tomasz kept saying, “Only 2km left of this hill.” I’d heard that before. I wasn’t buying it. Still, we paused to admire some cows who looked genuinely happy in the rain. Tomasz promised, “After this - it’s all downhill.”
I wasn’t convinced. I was knackered. This time, I was smiling on the outside but not at all on the inside. I was ready to give up. My ass felt like I’d done permanent damage to my internal organs. Tomasz had disappeared ahead, and I was mentally rehearsing my resignation from the trip. But then, from somewhere, who knows maybe the cows? I found just enough energy. The promise of downhill... the thought of being off the saddle. At the top of that brutal 12km climb, we finally arrived in Collinée. Sweet relief.
We sat on a bench and shared a can of Coke and some flapjack. I was completely broken. But there were only 12km to go.
La chute en fête
This next stretch was easily the best bit of the whole trip. We were soaked, cold, shattered but finally rolling downhill. At speed. Through thick forest that broke the wind and sheltered us from the rain. It was glorious, our spirits high again.
Of course, it wasn’t all downhill. Tomasz is a psycho and has a loose relationship with the truth when it comes to gradients. But I’d forgiven him. That’s just his motivational style. We were still wet, still aching, but for those 6km through the woods, we were flying. “Only 3km to Plessala,” Tomasz shouted back. “That’s like Shoreditch to Dalston.”
And he was right. I could feel we were close. I started recognising buildings. The promise of a pint at the local Tabac was real. I could taste it already. As we finally rolled into Plessala - a place I’d been many times, it hit me. We’d made it. Finally!
We caused quite a scene in the Tabac - I’m sure we were a sight for the 2 other customers. Dripping wet, walking that way. Talking that way.
Walking felt strange its true.
Sitting felt amazing, and terrible, all at once. But that first pint? Absolutely perfect. Santé! Cheers! Na zdrowie!
Well, I said Tomasz, if it wasn’t for the weight of my bike, the 30km headwind, the rain and all those bloody hills. You were right that would have been easy!
I was genuinely grateful of the adventure and high as a kite from the day. I am so sure Tomasz was too!
Tomasz & Seth EN FRANCE
Faire le pointE
Tomasz, as always, had the quote of the trip: “Brittany — it’s never really sunny, and the baguette is never really fresh. But at least it’s always windy.” – Tomasz
Mine? “In Brittany, what goes up — must go up again.”
Seth – Designer at Idioma
Stay Tuned...
POUR LE Chapitre FINAL.
All the images, the nature, abandoned railway lines . The city of Rennes and more. Coming soon.