Well, here we are in Rennes, having a nice meal of Breton gallettes and a glass of rosé .... 28 hours ago we were just leaving Seaton on Sluice in the north of England without any idea of what a strange journey we were about to undertake.

Place de la Mairie in Rennes

We drove into Newcastle-on-Tyne, dropped off our rental car and walked across to the station ready to catch the 10am train south to London, and then the fun started. We had been feeling lucky as the 2-day train strike had just finished. However, the 9 am train to London was still at the platform - apparently an earlier train had become entangled in the electric wires, blocking all southward trips. At 10.20am an announcement was made that the 9am train was cancelled and all those who were going to London should cross over to Platform 3 as the 9 and 10am trains were now combined. Have you ever seen over 1000 people towing cases surge across a pedestrian bridge between platforms ... interesting. Still, we all managed to cram onto the train and only a few insisted that they sit in their no-longer reserved seats, and then we were off, only 20 minutes late.

By the time we got London, with various track slowdowns, we were over 30 minutes late. Luckily, we had flexible tickets and could catch the next train onwards to the one we missed (now only 1 hour late). This was also slow and and arrived at the next connection 5 minutes after the train we should have caught, but (fortune favouring us with the British rail snafus this time) the connecting train was 12 minutes late and we could head on towards Plymouth Harbour, our destination. That would have been good, but British Rail, decided that as the trains were late, they would cancel the last two stops and everyone had to get out two stations before the destination. This, of course, meant a battle for taxis.

Finally we got one that took us to the International Ferry Terminal at Plymouth - our one consolation being that the overnight ferry from France was also late. So, lots of stress for no real benefit, as we arrived on time in St Malo the following morning.

Palais St Georges

Unlike British rail, the French trains ran like clockwork to take us to Rennes and our pleasant courtyard guesthouse, with plenty of time to explore the old part of town in the warm French sunshine. Tomorrow, we meet the rep from Abicyclette (https://www.abicyclette-voyages.com/en) to give us our bikes and instructions for our self-guided cycling trip in Bretagne. Lets just hope that our backsides have finally recovered form the Hadrians Wall cycling effort.

The rep from Abicyclette arrived at 8.30am at our hotel with our bikes and gear - two very well-equipped bikes with trip computer and GPS unit loaded with the route, one solely pedal-powered, one electric assist. After pushing up all the hills on Hadrians Cycleway, the fair Nello decided that a few volts under her seat was the way to go. Then, after a thorough briefing on the route and guide book in hand, we were away. Abicyclette run a very professional operation.

The air was a little crisp, but the sun shone brightly as we pedalled out of our hotel, down a wide boulevard of central Rennes, which ran either side of the Villaine River, out through the quiet suburbs and into the countryside. After a first few hundred metres, we turned right to follow the Canal d'Ille-et-Rance. This 85km long canal was built in 1834 to connect the Rance River, which flows into the English Channel with the Villaine River at Rennes, which flows into the North Atlantic, thus creating a short cut for boats across the centre of Bretagne. It rises to 65m, which means that there are numerous locks along the way.

Boat cruising up the canal

Riding along a smooth gravel track on the Chemin de Halage (old towpath) beneath the shade of tall trees, listening to the birds singing was very pleasant. We even saw a water-rat at one point swimming alongside the reed-lined bank.

Soon we were passing the locks at regular intervals, each lock with its 1800s-era house attached, where the eclusier (lock-master) lives. At one point, we were able to watch him at work as we arrived just in time to watch a boat passing through Lock No. 9.

Thus, time drifted by as the day warmed up and we pedalled on, following the gentle curves and straight sections of the canal - sometimes passing by more open farmland, other times passing forested areas and hillier country - as the hills appeared the locks became more frequent.

The only problem was finding a place for lunch. We had stopped after 15km to have a coffee at Betton, overlooking the canal and its pretty town centre, but despite passing through several small villages after, there was nowhere open for lunch. We pushed on, by a wider bulge in the canal, the Etang de la Plousiere. This was the high point, 65 m above sea level, and from now on locks would be working in the reverse direction. After riding a short distance through the forest to reach our destination at Hede-Bazouges.

Turning away from the canal, suddenly the pedalling became harder .... it was a hill, the first since Rennes. So, with a bit more effort (at least for the person without the e-bike) we rode up to the centre of the village, where a kind lady pointed us in the direction of the local boulangerie and lunch.

It was pleasant to coast down the other side of Hede to reach Le Vieux Moulin, our very nice hotel for the night. The hotel also runs a restaurant and, short of a detailed description, we ate the best meal since we started our trip - les Français savent bien comment manger! It had been a great start to our first cycling day in Bretagne.

Another day of riding alongside the canal awaited us, only this time we would be heading ever-so-slightly downhill, rather than ever-so-slightly uphill which we had done yesterday. We were on our way to where the canal joins the Rance River, just below the town of Dinan. With another perfect, blue sky day, we were looking forward to an enjoyable ride. I opted for a slight detour after leaving our hotel - it enabled us to do a gentler, if longer climb up to the central square of Hede, passing a pretty lake and stopping in at the boulangerie to buy a couple of baguettes for our lunch.

Once again, we found ourselves riding through picture postcard country, the glassy canal surface reflected the reeds and shrubs that lined it and the trees that overhung it, birds sang and the occasional waft of freshly mown hay from fields nearby completed a bucolic landscape. The locks appeared in regular succession, as the canal dropped, with their pretty eclusier's cottages.

We pedalled past a series of villages, their skylines dominated by tall church spires. At Saint Domineuc, we pulled in for a coffee, and at Evran, we stopped in a shady park to eat our baguettes. The tow path was a peaceful place, with only the occasional other cyclists or walkers out.

Reflections of Saint Domineuc

After Evran, the landscape started to become more hilly, as the canal found its way between the green wooded slopes. Rounding one bend, we came face to face with a sheer rock cliff that turned the canal ... a bit of a shock after riding through such flat landscapes. It signalled our approach to Dinan.

Just before Dinan lies Lehon, a small village "de caractere Breton" - a typical old Breton village with classic 18th century stone buildings and grey slate rooves. We made a detour to ride up its cobbled streets, admiring the old buildings and stopping for a quick look at the 13th century Benedictine abbey.

13th century Benedictine abbey

Then it was back on the bikes to cross a picturesque medieval stone bridge and continue around the opposite side of the canal. We were now officially in La Rance river. Very soon after, Dinan appeared high above on the steep hillside, a huge auto viaduct crossing the valley to reach the old city walls, still intact. It was an impressive entry.

The 17th century stone bridge over La Rance at Lehon

We stayed on the tow path for a bit longer to enter the port area and cross back over another stone bridge. On the far side, lots of yachts and boats floated languidly at their moorings. Welcome to the Rance River. Our direction, however, was back uphill toward the old city, following a narrow cobbled street lined with old stone- or wood-framed 17th century houses. One was our chambre d'hote for the night.

Unfortunately, we had arrived at 2pm and check-in wasn't till 4pm, but that gave us a chance to walk even further up this steep cobbled street to explore the old town of Dinan .... so many beautiful old buildings, an impressive clock-tower, cathedral, castle and gardens above the city walls. It was a great way to exercise some different muscle groups and enjoy the sights of this beautiful example of 18th century (and earlier) Breton architecture.

The Rance is renowned for the cultivation of mussels, so it seemed appropriate that night to have a feast of moules marinieres ... accompanied by a bottle of chilled rosé de Loire .... a perfect end to an enjoyable day.

The fine weather continued for today's leg - we would be leaving the flatness of the canal and heading out across the rolling Breton countryside. That, of course, meant hills to climb .... and coast down, so the cycling would be quite different. The route indicated that we should head up the steep cobbled streets of old Dinan and down the otherside - we had walked up there the evening before and had no desire to ride up a steep cobbled road.

So, we made another trip detour - heading down to the port and pedalling beneath the viaduct and up the smooth sealed road to the town, longer but easier. We even turned it into a short cut by crossing the back streets of Dinan to regain the route. As punishment for our deviation, the route now led us up a long, steady climb to the heights above Lehon village and out into the countryside. We were on the way.

Following a series of minor roads, we pushed along, passing fields of wheat and barley, potatoes and field peas, with the occasional horse or herd of cows to watch us pass. It was pleasant riding, the rural scene broken up by occasional patches of woodland or small lake and charming villages with their high-spired churches or quaint mairies. At Bobital, we stopped to buy our lunchtime baguettes and, at Languedias, we noticed the local bar-tabac was open - the best place to stop for a coffee in small villages.

Pushing on, we had some of the fastest riding, as we crossed the rolling landscape - pleasant descents gave the speed to attack the next short rise without losing momentum. Ahead, we could see a group of wind turbines turning slowly in the distance - a good sight, as the wind that drove them was at our backs, pushing us along even faster.

A long descent brought us to the village of Jugon-les-Lacs, another "cité de caractere" with its typical Breton architecture at the end of a large lake. Of course, if you coast down to the bottom of a river valley, you must climb out.

The climb from Jugon was the hardest of the day, steep and winding at first in the lowest gear, followed by a long steady climb on tired legs. Not only was I pooped and covered in sweat at the top, I had to face the humiliation of the fair Nello and her e-bike waiting to give me a high five for getting there.

Once on top, we cruised between fields, some with the fat-eared wheat already turning golden, to descend once again to the river valley and a bridge over a broad reach of the Arguenon River - it was time to stop and eat our baguettes for lunch on its grassy shore.

The climb out of this valley was easier and took us into a steady ride with only a few kilometres of farmlands separating a string of pretty villages. The fairy tale Chateau de Hunaudaye with its classic moat and turrets was a nice place to stop and explore. The day was heating up and it was a relief to finally sweep down into La Poterie, a village close to the town of Lamballe and the location of the Hotel le Manoir des Portes, our very pleasant accommodation for the night.

It had been our longest day of riding, with a few big climbs, but, despite the heat, went surprisingly quickly as we got a feel for the Breton landscapes beyond a canal. The only down side was the gradual appearance of high grey cloud .... I guess we will find out what that means tomorrow.

Well, now we know what the high cloud drifting in yesterday meant ... waking to grey skies and a light drizzle. After 32 days of walking and cycling in fine conditions in Britain and France, it looked like we were going to get rained on. Putting on our rain jackets, we pedalled out of the hotel and into the weather - it was the sort of rain that, were you in a car, the wipers would only sweep every 15 seconds - not really something to worry about.

As was becoming our wont, we started with a detour to cut out the first climb on the marked route and headed directly to the Gouessant, a pleasant tree-lined stream, where a gravel cycle path led us around the shore of the Plan d'Eau Gaudu and along the stream into the town of Lamballe, with its massive 15th century Eglise St Jean.

The price for the pleasant start to the day was a ride through the busy streets of Lamballe, followed by a long, steady climb into the misty countryside on fairly major roads. The climb brought us to St Aaron, after which the landscape flattened somewhat as we switched to quieter country roads, enabling us to get into a steady quicker pedalling rhythm. The light showers came and went and, at one stage, we pulled into the portal of a ruined chapel to shelter until they stopped again.

A rapid cruisy descent meant another steep climb out to reach the village of St Alban, with the inevitable victory of the e-bike rider. Leaving the old town, we passed through a new development - it is interesting how modern Breton housing has adopted the old styles with double-storied, slate-roofed buildings with upper gable windows and a chimney at either end. Only the cream render as opposed to stonework gave away their modern origins.

At the end of the big climb, I was wetter under my rainjacket from perspiration than I would have been from the rain. I took it off and we cruised down to the coast, reaching it at Le Port Morvan, a small cove surrounded by rocky headlands, but with no coffee shop. We had to push over the one headland to reach the marina at Port de Dahouet to find one, plus a boulangerie for lunchtime supplies. They also served hot chocolate, which seemed better on this bleaker day.

Shortly after leaving we entered the long coastal agglomeration of Pleneuf-Val André. As we were riding along the boulevard above the long stretch of sandy beach, the showers returned, so we pulled into the shelter of a coffee shop to watch it fall while sipping hot coffees - a good way to pass the time.

Continuing on between the intermittent, but light, showers, we left Pleneuf to re-enter a patch of countryside above the long sandy stretch of the Plage de Nantois. From the size of the campground here, this will be a busy place in summer. Another climb over a headland, brought us to another beach, Plage Caroual, The showers had stopped and the sun was even trying hard to shine - that meant one thing .... lunch break by the seaside, looking out towards the cliffs of Point de Houssaye.

A steady climb up on the point provided great views out over the cliffs of Cap d'Erquy and, a bit later, over the harbour and beach of Erquy town. We were closing in on our destination for the night and after a short climb away from the coast reached the Chambre d'Hote Les Bruyeres d'Erquy. It was a modern Breton house, but a very comfortable place to watch the odd thunderstorm roll by, and, given the quality of the meal that night, I think that our hostess may have been a chef in a previous life.

There had been more showers overnight and the sky was filled with grey cloud when we packed up and set off from our Chambre-d'Hote at Erquy. There was no sign of rain, though, so we opted to head back towards the cape before continuing on - a detour that would add a few kilometres to our trip. The reason was to do a short walk on the cape, Le Sentier des Carrieres.

Cap d'Erquy is primarily composed of greyish-pink sandstone, which for centuries had been quarried from the cliff sides. This shortish walk wanders along beneath them, showing the colours of the cut rock face. In two places, the old pits have filled with water to form the Grand and Petit Lacs Bleu, whose dark waters reflected the backing rock face.

It was a great short walk, with expansive views over Erquy and its harbour, and a stroll through purple and pink flowering heathland to the Pointe de Trois Pierres for a closer look at the rugged cliffs forming Cap d'Erquy. It was a worthwhile detour.

Retracing our way out, we soon rejoined the mapped route to leave Erquy town and follow a gravel cycle path down through a pleasant forest and across an interesting marshland to reach the Plage des Sables d'Or, as its name implies a beach of golden sand.

This brought us to the first bigger climb of the day, winding up the next headland to reach Pointe aux Chevres, with its old WWII bunkers and great views over the Plage du Vieux Bourg. The beaches were coming thick and fast. Ahead, in the distance, we could see the cliffs of Cap Frehel (or should I say part of them, as low cloud was misting out the tops).

It was a steady climb up, mainly on cycle paths that first crossed farmland and then entered the natural heath vegetation of the cape. They led us up into the mist, a mist so damp that we put our raingear on. By the time we got to Cap Frehel, it had closed in and the lighthouse was barely visible, an ethereal landscape. There seemed little point in doing our planned walk to the cape in such low visibility.

Pushing on from Cap Frehel, we pedalled across the open heathland to the next promontory - with its iconic Fort de Latte perched above the sea. We parked the bikes and took a little stroll down to see it. It was here that the mist turned to rain and, with little in the way of shelter, we pushed on, following a set of cycle signs. The route took us through a variety of back roads, out of the heathland and back into a more rural Breton landscape with a string of small villages and fields.

As we descended to pedal around a still estuary the rain eased - a good thing because I was able to take off my wet weather gear before the next big climb. That took us over another section of coastal hills with the obligatory small village and farmland, and into the outskirts of Saint-Cast-le-Guildo.

Saint Cast was our accommodation for the night, but as we hadn't been able to find either a bar-tabac or boulangerie en route, we coasted down to marina for a coffee, a feed of fish and chips and, as the sun had now emerged and the seats were very comfortable, a celebratory beer. The only downside was a steep pinch to climb back up out of the marina to our hotel - despite the wet weather, it had been another great day and a chance to appreciate the Breton coastline.

The weather forecast had been for fine conditions again, but we left Saint Cast under a grey sky, quickly passing through the town. Leaving the developed area, we found ourselves on a majo road climbing steeply up into the countryside on the next headland. The fair Nello was so fast on her e-bike that she zoomed past the turn-off. Luckily, we could rejoin the marked route via a quieter road through the village of Bourdais. The only cost was twice the climb for pedal-powered me.

A sweeping descent on a quieter road brought us to the seaside and time for a short break. However, as expected, a climb up to the next headland always follows such a descent. It was up down, up down, as we then coasted down to the bridge over the Arguenon Inlet. This is aregion of big tides and it was strange to see all the boats stranded on the mud flats of a low tide. This gave some splendid views across to the village of St Jacut-de-la-Mer, situated in the middle of a small peninsula.

We made a short detour into St Jacut to find a pleasant café where the locals were having their Sunday morning coffees - we joined in and, as we sat there the sun began to break up the morning clouds. The route from St Jacut to the Plage de Saint Sieu was probably the least pleasant of the trip, as it followed a major road, with lots of vehicles whipping by - it made me appreciate our hi-viz vests.

However, after leaving the golden sands of Saint Sieu, we were again on small roads or bicycle paths alongside the roads. We followed these to the bridge crossing the Le Fremur River as it entered the Baie de la Fresnaye. This was a typical Breton resort - a beach of golden sand, a sea front lined with older houses and a bay full of moored yachts. The number of yachts and pleasure boats we have seen along this coast is mind-boggling - every protected harbour seems full of them.

This was St Briac-sur-Mer and the sun was fully out - it was a good place for lunch. From here we followed a series of dedicated roadside bike paths up over another headland to reach the Pointe de Decollé, a small rocky promontory with panoramic views up and down the Côte d'Emeraude. It was the highlight of the day - with the sun out in full, we could fully appreciate the clear emerald coloured water that gives this region its name.

After the point, we continued on these "city" bike paths, passing the wide golden sweep of Le Grand Plage de St Lunaire and entering the town of Dinard. In the 19th century, Dinard became a playground for wealthy British who built many coastal mansions. We cruised past these to drop down to the Rance River and the ferry terminal for St Malo, just in time to virtually ride straight on to the ferry.

The mouth of the Rance is a couple of kilometres wide, so ferry was the best means to get to St Malo, its medieval walls, tall multi-windowed buildings and cathedral spire framing the horizon. St Malo is without doubt one of the great walled cities. On disembarking we rode around the walls to the main gate and pushed our bikes over the cobblestone square to reach our hotel and the end of our 270 km cycle trip through Bretagne.

We had arrived mid-afternoon, which gave us plenty of time to walk round the city walls and take in the sights where the emerald waters of the English Channel and medieval stonework meet - a wonderful setting and a great place to end the ride. A serve of Breton oysters followed by moules marinières in the warm afternoon sun overlooking the sea from beneath the stone walls of the old fort seemed the perfect way to celebrate.

The walls of St Malo and its beautiful coastline