We fancy Annecy!
Trip Start
May 24, 2005
1
6
25
Trip End
Ongoing
Annecy,
France
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Weary eyed after my night's re-run in my mind of how Leonardo De Caprio sank beneath Kate Winslet ... we stepped off the ship with our back-packs on and boots double-tied.
Roscoff & France. Walking off the gang way we managed to catch a bus to the terminal. This has got to be the shortest, most pointless bus journey in the entire cosmos ... bus arrives, doors close, starts engine. One jolt and, no more than 8 seconds later, it slows to open doors at the arrivals hall.
Now 6:30am French time and we whizz by passport control (a very bored looking guy who could have probably done with a lie-in). A large town map planted on the rise above the town directed us towards our first croissant and the bus towards Morlaix
6 a.m. and perfect
. There was a bus due to go at 8 a.m. but, dawn over Roscoff having entranced us, we decided to get in a stroll (and a few more croissants). Most people - and probably in most cases they are right - try to get away from ferry towns as fast as their wheels will spin but ROSCOFF IS AN EXECPTION!! Strongly encourage a few hours to tip-toe though its mediaeval streets. This fish market town is a fountain of colour with some history to boot.On arriving back at the bus stop after a 2 1/2 stroll, we saw the same faces that had been eagerly looking to catch the 8:00 bus to Morlaix (it never came). Having to make the first proper decision of where to go and feeling a like pushing on ahead, we regretably left Brittany without exploring its array of coastal towns and hillside villages (this had always been the plan, but the rain, the rain...). On the other hand, as the weather was beginning to dampen, we decided that made good truckin' weather.
Destination Rennes. After the bus, we smoothly transitioned to the TGV where we had the delightful company of Joseph, a 24 year old professional sailer from Southampton who was over to take part in a reggata... He loved his sport and gave us both great enthusiasm for what hopefully lies ahead in Croatia.. So the TGV pulled into a rainy Rennes and after 2 hours we found ourselves pulled back to the train station (it being 'summer', there were no students around
Eoghan lying in path of joggers
. In fact, it being slashed with rain, there was nobody around.)With little hesitation "pushing ahead" became the theme du jour - Train to Paris with a connection to the overnight couchette to Annecy. Amazed by the speed of the TGV - and frankly scared to wits-end as it rattled through towns at a velocity slowing time.
We arrived into a bustling, drizzly, Paris. Squeezing - comme des pommes frites - onto the already bulging Sunday evening bus. With Helen sitting on her pack to make room and me basically knocking everybody over and shrugging apologetically the bus puffed up the hill towards our transiting station.
While grabbing a coffee on the station concourse I noticed an "unattended suitcase" (Helen's note - hope you are keeping count of these incidents). For 15 min I sat there gathering beads of sweat and slowly letting my chocolat chaud ice over. Eventually, Helen agreed to approach and question a group of people enjoying an evening drink a little way from the bag. An outburst of laughter - "Oui, c'est un bomb!". Mortified, with everyone looking amusedly in our direction, we slunk off. We weren't to know then how reasonable E's vigilance actually was.
The couchette was a 6 bedder
Rooftops of the old town
. We took top bunks and, on taking off our shoes and socks, sniffed, and realised that we'd pretty much ruled out making new friends on this particular leg of the journey. About 100 miles out of Paris the light went out and all six of us rocked clickety-clack over the central plains of France. In the morning we were rewarded with Alpine rivers rushing through gorges as the train whizzed over bridges and past forests.Annecy opened her arms wide and embraced us with a sweet cocktail of breath-taking views, canals, castles, forest walks and the #1 camp-site (Belvedere). We almost forgot the Thousands of cobbled steps, focused as we were on the winding streets, the strawberries and croissants, the way the light falls on the lake and the townhouses lean over each other, whispering local gossip.
Annecy's origins date back to 3000BC so in fairness I can't claim to have found her but can - nonetheless - recommed everyone to visit. We walked in solitude along a light-dappled nature reserve and cycled along a cycle path extending the entire length of the lake and constructed using a one-time steam railway, tunnels included. Take note Ken Livingston. Everyone was out: whole families out for a stroll or a cycle, grandads roller-blading and, weaving amongst them all, lycra'd crews of tautly-muscled pros. But this good thing had to come to an end to make way for more.
To Mont Blanc - AH, or not (train strike). To Geneva instead - to hook up with me (Eoghan's) dad and Switzerland.
