Michel ma Belle

I checked out of my hotel, leaving my big bag with them for an overnight excursion to Mont Saint-Michel. This is not the easiest place to get to, requiring a taxi, then a train, then a car,  then a shuttle bus. The train was clean, fast and well equipped with a dining car, wifi and reclining seats. I didn’t need the dining car- any one that knows me will know I was at the station a good hour before boarding, and if you know me VERY well, you’ll know I had pre-scoped out the food offerings to find the best breakfast option. 

All the transport went smoothly and in no time at all I was stepping off the shuttle on to the causeway to the most breathtaking sight. 

Unlike most of the over edited, over instagrammed tourist destinations, this is the real deal. It rises out of the flat expanse of the bay, medieval buildings piled improbably on top of one another with the abbey at the summit, a vast sweep of sand and sea stretching out on either side.

Once inside the walls there are a maze of narrow cobbled streets and stone buildings, all winding their way around and upwards towards the abbey. 

The route is steep, but there are plenty of distractions along the way, a hodge-podge of craft shops, tourist offerings and restaurants. I managed to acquire two berets and a pair of gloves as well as eat lunch and down a glass of champagne for energy on the way up. I needed it as the climb to the abbey is something of an undertaking. Google tells me there are around 350 steps from the entrance to the Mount to the top, but it felt like far more. Sometimes you go down, just to go up again. There is a reasonable stream of tourists coming along behind, so there was some Dory-like “just keep climbing “ going on in my head. 

The abbey itself is spectacular, full of gothic halls, little chapels, and courtyards, with the occasional glimpse of the bay showing just how high you have climbed. The cloister is particularly beautiful and feels incredibly peaceful and quiet. The light, the sound of the wind, the salty air and the architecture combine to make something magical. It seems like everyone there feels it - the chatter of the tourists dies away in this space. 

I sat inside the church at the top, taking on the soaring ceilings and the light pouring in, and lit a candle for Jason before moving on to the scriptorium and the crypts. The building is a rabbit warren of small narrow stair cases which open out into large halls. It’s hard not to consider the sheer determination involved in building such a place here. There is a large 3D model that you can walk around, and the practical planner in me is wondering about managing food and waste, and all the tricky logistics involved both then and now. Later on in the tour there is a giant wooden wheel with a sled attached, used, I understand, to haul food up to the building. I’ve included a picture of the fibre arts display, a project to produce textile maps of the bay made with local wool, dyed with local flora. 

A basic but hearty dinner next to the fire was all I could manage before falling into bed in an equally basic room. There are no fancy accommodations here, and I’ve picked the best of two options. Three long flights of steep stairs, a bathroom with questionable plumbing and a thankfully comfortable bed.