Map of Les Sables d’Olonne
I’d been looking forward to this trip like crazy. Not so much to the first eight days in Les Sables d’Olonne, but the second week in Brittany.
The first week was supposed to be a quiet affair. Simon would be attending the Speaker and Language Recognition Workshop, and I’d spend the days reading somewhere in the shade.
But, within twenty-four hours of leaving Edinburgh, we’d already rented two bikes for the whole week. So off we went to explore this part of the world before the workshop started.
So much for a quiet holiday.
Arriving at Les Sables d’Olonne
The Airbnb house we’d rented was superb. It had three bedrooms and a nice bathroom upstairs; and a large sitting room, dinning area and a well equipped kitchen downstairs, plus a courtyard where we kept the bikes.
Here it is. It’s the brown stone one on the right, with no fewer than four doors facing the pedestrian street.
Our pretty house, on the right
The long beautiful promenade was just a street away from our house. And soon we discovered that one of the two lanes on the road next to it was a dedicated cycle path that stretched for many miles.
I went on it more times than I dare to admit.
Les Sables d’Olonne promenade
We arrived in Les Sables d’Olonne on Friday, after flying direct to Nantes and then taking the train.
There had been on and off train strikes for several weeks throughout France, but luck was on our side and we arrived without hassle.
A street near our house
Most of the old streets around ours were one-way, except for bikes, that is. Bikes can go just about everywhere in Les Sables d’Olonne.
I love these splendiferous surprises.
Our way to the supermarket, exclusively for bikes
Les Sables d’Olonne & the sea
The weather forecast for the whole week was spectacular. In fact, after a few days we were praying for some merciful clouds.
And, curiously enough, there were no insects in town, or any of the other places we visited in the two weeks. That was another great surprise.
A wee bird having a free shower on a hot day
While Simon was at the conference I explored the town on my own.
At first I’d planned to take the train down to La Rochelle, but then I realised there were plenty of things to do in Les Sables d’Olonne, not least admiring the hundreds of boats in the port.
Quai René Guiné, near our house
On 1 July the Golden Globe Race was due to start from Les Sables d’Olonne. That’s one of the reasons why there were so many fabulous boats everywhere.
The ones on the photo are only a small sample of what we saw.
Boats, and more boats
Les Sables d’Olonne & La Chaume
La Chaume is the old district on the other side of the port. The fastest way to get to it is to jump on the shuttle boat called “Passeur”.
It costs only €1.10 and is worth every cent. You can even take your bike on it.
The “Passeur”, the shuttle to La Chaume
To get a panoramic view of Les Sables d’Olonne we went up this 15th century tower.
The narrow, spiral, claustrophobic stair isn’t much fun, but missing the view wasn’t an option. So up we went.
The Tour d’Arundel
On the ground floor of the tower there’s the tiny and most interesting Museum of the Sea. It’s got dozens of boat models, big and small; plus a collection of maps, books, instruments and nets.
We learned a token amount about the region’s fishing history, and we’d learn a bit more about it in Douarnenez, a few days later.
Inside the Musée de la Mer
Those cycle paths made Les Sables d’Olonne a truly special place. At times there’d be a traffic jam on the road, and I’d overtake all the cars by leisurely pedalling on the dedicated cycle path.
If you ask me, that is Modernity.
Our never-ending cycle path
I spent two weeks with my camera in search of handsome boats. In the end I had so many snaps that most of them are now hiding in my hard drive.
But I couldn’t keep this one just to myself.
A beautiful boat & La Chaume in the background
Around the Prieuré Saint-Nicolas
The Prieuré Saint-Nicolas is on the southern tip of La Chaume, with commanding views of the port and town.
It was first built in the 11th century, and has a long history of pillage, transformation and renovation.
The priory of Saint Nicolas
At the end of the 18th century it became a fort, and seven cannons were installed next to it.
Religion and war. Will they ever go separate ways?
Cannons outside the priory of Saint Nicolas
There are dozens of lighthouses dotted along the French coast. They come in all shapes and sizes.
This was one of the tallest I saw.
One of many lighthouses in Les Sables d’Olonne
You can see why there are so many lighthouses. The stricking rocky coast is a constant danger to boats, and the sea is often a lot rougher than this.
It’s pretty wild in the winter, people told us.
Another lighthouse in the distance
Visiting the Notre Dame de Bon Port cathedral
The cathedral was just a few streets away from our house.
It’s an imposing 17th century building, somewhat trapped by the narrow streets, and the perfect place to hide from the heat.
So we paid it a visit.
Notre Dame de Bon Port, the cathedral
Six months before, when we were in Japan, temple hopping became our favourite pastime.
Now in France, like good atheists, we visited just about every church that came our way. I guess it’s better than going to the casinos.
Notre Dame de Bon Port, façade
The sea is ever-present in Les Sables d’Olonne, and its cathedral is no exception.
Like many religious buildings we saw on this trip, it’s a reminder of the daily dangers faced by fishermen and sailors.
In case you’re curious, Notre Dame de Bon Port means “Our Lady of a Safe Harbour”.
Inside the cathedral
The streets of Les Sables d’Olonne
What I loved most about Les Sables d’Olonne was its maze of narrow streets. Some were hardly wide enough for two bikes.
One thing intrigued me, though: how do they do the removals?
The wonderfully named “Rue Zig Zag”
When we arrived on 22 June, we were pleasantly surprised by how quiet the place was.
We mentioned it to our landlady, and she said the town would be teeming with tourists in a couple of weeks, when the official holidays started.
By then, though, we’d be back in bonnie Scotland.
A curious house of many windows
But not all the dwellers in Les Sables are quiet.
The seagulls, apart from being daring and bountiful, are impossibly noisy. They seem to spend most of their time calling their friends, fighting, celebrating a catch, or just cawing for heck of it.
Like us humans, I guess.
An elegant residential street in Les Sables d’Olonne
More streets
Going to the supermarket was another one of our favourite pastimes. If you ask me, that fish soup on its own was well worth the visit.
Sometimes we went on the bikes, with our rucksacks, and wearing hats and as much sun cream as we could bear. Other times we walked, and took with us one of those European trolleys you wish you could use in the UK without looking like a granny.
If only Jamie Oliver strolled around London with one of them in hand to make them fashionable.
One of the commercial streets in Les Sables d’Olonne
The French summer light was magic.
When I opened the shutters in the morning, the sun would flood my bedroom with a gentle light, and I’d lay in bed, reading Maigret novels.
From my bed I could see the rooftops, the bright blue sky, and nothing else.
Houses with the typical blue shutters
In Les Sables d’Olonne you’re never too far from “L’enfer” (Hell). It even has a street named after it. One so narrow that your bike would get stuck in it if you tried to get in.
In Les Sables d’Olonne, Hell is the only place where you can’t take your bicycle.
The impossibly narrow “Rue de l’Enfer” (Hell Street)
Cycling from Les Sables d’Olonne
One of my solitary rides took me along the coast. I rode for several miles on the wide cycle path, under the blazing sun and with no shade in sight.
After a while, I was half pedalling and half dreaming about eating my lunch under a nice tree. But there were no trees, or so I feared. And, suddenly, the Bois de Saint Jean appeared; a patch of forest with picnic table and bench included.
Sometimes life is like a fairy tale.
Les Sables d’Olonne and its long beach
Another ride took me to a sinister place. It was awesome, so I went twice.
The Puits d’Enfer (Pit of Hell) is one of the many spots we saw on this trip where you could easily end up at the bottom of a cliff.
In bright sunshine you can see all the crevices and holes, the rocks at the bottom and the puddles, so there’s not much room left for the imagination.
But, at sunset, the place comes to life. You stand there, above a pitch black void, wondering whether it’s a secret passage to hell.
Puits d’Enfer (Pit of Hell), just outside Les Sables d’Olonne
One evening, as the sun was going down, I rode south a few miles, and then turned back to see Les Sables d’Olonne in silhouette. It looked like paradise.
It reminded me of the beautiful Galician sunsets I saw as a child, when we went there on holiday to see the place where mum had been brought up.
Sunset over Les Sables d’Olonne
Alas, I had no lights on my bike, so I had to race back to the house before it got dark.
That same week we explored another intriguing place: the marshes a few miles north of Les Sables d’Olonne.
I took all the photos with the Panasonic.