Day seven: Dinan and the Rance Canal

After making little progress yesterday, I was up early to try and fit two days cycling in to a single day.

I cycled into the walled city of St Malo – Intra Muras – to take my token picture of the local cathedral/church and have my token croissant, pain au chocolat and orange juice breakfast.

It was then a ten minute ferry ride to over the bay to Dinard where the cycling would begin.

The cycle path

As opposed to the rolling hills of Normandy, today’s ride started with 30km straight along a cycle path into Dinan. I was looking forward to the cycle path as I thought it would be easy and pleasant on the eye. However, after about 5km of finding it not so easy I decided the bike must be the problem and soon had it upside down again to tinker with it.

I arrived into Dinan around lunchtime and popped into the tourist office to see what all of the fuss was about. My attention was caught by the people in the tourist office speaking about the Tour de France visiting the next day – that would definitely explain the ‘Bienvieu Tour de France’ signs I had seen on the way into town.

I couldn’t change my trip so resigned myself to the fact that I must be the uncoolest cyclist ever – riding out of a town just as the world’s most prestigious cycling race rode in.

Dinan is a beautiful, quaint town built upon the top of a hill that overlooks the area. It has narrow cobbled streets which are always a winner, however feels quite touristy verging on tacky in places.

Still it’s a great place and according to the guide book, is Brittany’s best preserved medieval town.

The other thing that caught my eye in Dinan was the amount of food on show. It was a bit overwhelming. I decided to have a walk round to clear my head before deciding on a lunch option.

Sadly by the time I was ready to make a decision, all of the food places were closed for their 2pm break. Annoying. I had to settle for a Panini and a massive ice cream as consolation.

The Rance Canal

The afternoon cycle consisted of a 30km ride along the Rance Canal. This was easier cycling although started with a bit of a scare when the start of the cycling path was cordoned off. Even when I climbed over the ‘don’t go down there barrier’ I was completely cut off 2km down the way. I think it was something to do with fallen branches. Luckily I was able to go back about 5km and join a path on the other side of the canal.

The cycling was much easier along the canal and I flew like the wind along the flat cycle path, with only forest, water and the odd village to take in along the way.

Knowing when to come off the canal path proved to be the tricky part. At the junction I thought it might be I approached a man in a yellow van. His name was Edgar. I have his phone number in this very book.

Edgar was from Rennes, and wanted to tell me about all of the wonderful rides and places I could visit in France, showing me on his range of Michelin maps.

His enthusiasm didn’t even dampen as the rain started to fall and I started to shake in the cold. He also told me I needed to ride a bit further down the canal to pick up a B-road to get to my destination. This turned out to be a lie, and meant another 4km round trip.

With night closing in, my legs aching like buggery I was lost again and set off along a main road. As cars thundered past me at 90kmh I had a feeling of dejavu – this wasn’t a place I wanted to be.

After another 3km down the main road I turned off and managed to find my way to the B-road I was looking for. I then had about 12km, through Dinge, to Combourg where I planned to stay the night.

Before even pitching my tent, I biked into town. Kebab and chips followed along with another massive ice-cream – this cycling builds quite an appetite.I cycled into Combourg at exactly 8pm, just as the campsite office was closing and with 120km on the speedometer. Luckily they were willing to take one more booking.