Our final day of biking in Normandy entailed riding from Avranches to the final major sight on the itinerary: the quasi-island abbey of Mont Saint Michel.
Route for the day, from Avranches to Mont Saint Michel (we forgot we had all of these and are adding them to previous Normandy biking posts):
Just a short distance out of town we came upon an air show at the Aerodrome d’Avranches:
Where Thomas immediately took advantage of the beer tent:
Onward!
Our destination for the day, looking every bit like a sand castle in the distance:
The heretofore unknown-to-us German War Cemetery in Normandy:
It’s an unassuming columbarium containing the remains of 12,000 war dead from western France and the Channel Islands.
With another view of Mont Saint Michel from the top:
The little hamlet of La Rive, with a trailhead to the monastery:
On the causeway, site of an individual time trial in the 2013 Tour de France:
The place is like a wedding cake.
Once inside the walled abbey and its little encircling town, we made a beeline to the top of the complex.
Mont Saint-Michel’s history began in 708 AD, when, according to tradition, the Archangel Michael appeared to Aubert, Bishop of Avranches, and instructed him to build a sanctuary on the rocky tidal island.
Benedictine monks established an abbey there in 966, transforming it into a major medieval pilgrimage destination.
An extraordinary Gothic complex, known as La Merveille (“The Marvel”) was built on the abbey’s north side in the early 13th century.
During the Hundred Years’ War, its formidable fortifications helped it withstand English attacks, making it a powerful symbol of French resistance.
Cool capitals on the church columns:
“A marvel within the “Merveille,” the cloister offers a timeless experience, between sky and sea. The Merveille is a group of Gothic buildings, built on the north side of the rock, composed of three levels, a magnificent testimony to the know-how of the 13th century builders.” (From here.)
After the French Revolution, the abbey was converted into a prison, which operated until 1863, before restoration efforts revived its religious and historic significance.
Elevator / crane:
Our abbey tour concluded, we headed back through the throngs and out to our bikes.
And rode to our hotel, right at the edge of the causeway.
The hotel’s location was phenomenal.
Even if the hotel itself was for shite.
Watching the sunset from our terraces – pretty awesome.
Despite our fears, all four bikers survived the night alone and abandoned in the haunted chateau.
We woke to another perfect Normandy morning.
The riders prepare in the shadow of the chateau for the day’s excursion to the coast.
So long, Chateau de Canisy, you crazy gal.
Not too much to see on the day’s ride, but nice scenery.
We actually stopped for lunch on the coast about 5 miles (if that) away from Granville, where we’d be spending the night, but didn’t take any pics there. Notably, we feasted once again on Normandy oysters, and when we asked where they were from, he hooked his thumb behind him, pointed to the shoreline about 50 yards away, and said, “right there.” Pretty awesome, as were the oysters.
The beach town of Granville. Two items of interest here:
The first is the saltwater pool, there in the middle. Very cool; refreshed twice a day as the tide comes in and overwhelms it before heading back and and revealing the pool once again. We had a nice swim there, as well as in the ocean proper.
The second is the insane tidal extreme. Granville boasts some of the most dramatic tides in France. The combination of the bay’s shape, the shallow seabed, and tidal forces of the Atlantic-facing English Chanel produce tidal ranges of up to 46 feet.
To wit, the same view at high tide:
Low tide:
High tide.
And these two:
The little port area of the town, where some festival offered the opportunity for a bunch of beers on picnic benches in a tent.
A little entertainment by the locals:
On the road the next day:
First stop, Abbey de Lucerne.
The abbey itself was founded in 1143, but in a different location that was too remote and too damp, apparently. So they reestablished it here in 1164.
The abbey was partly destroyed during the Hundred Years’ War, then restored in the 15th century.
The abbey is home to this rather smarmy little 16th-century depiction of Saint Sebastian, who was martyred under Emperor Diocletian in the 3rd century.
On the left, a recumbent effigy of Guillaume de Saint-Jean Limestone from the first half of the 13th century unearthed during archaeological excavations of the church’s northern chapels in 1990. He financed the construction of the abbey in the 12th century and was then buried here. The dog lying to the right at his feet is a symbol of fidelity, obedience, and gratitude.
O the right, a recumbent effigy of Hasculphe de Subligny from the 13th century, also unearthed during archaeological excavations of the church’s northern chapels in 1990. His feet rest medieval salamanders, a creature believed to be an elemental being linked to fire, and also the emblem of Francis I, which we encountered during a previous French bike trip in the Loire Valley.
The abbey was sold as national property during the French Revolution.
And then transformed into a cotton spinning mill,
and then a limestone sawmill.
Cool-ass dovecote:
Reaching the coast again, we get our first glimpse of our objective the next (and final) day – Mont Saint Michel.
It would be with us on and off for the next 2 days of biking.
And there are pilgrims that depart across the tidal plain (which becomes boot-sucking mud when you get our further) each day:
Heading back inland to our destination for the evening. . .
Avranches. The liberation of Avranches during WWII was led by Patton and began on the very auspicious day of July 31 (1944).
The Donjon d’Avranches:
The castle was built in 950 on the remains of an old Roman fort.
The view from the donjon over a very Normandy-looking town:
And some hydrangeas.
Pretty good bites that night.
On to Mont Saint Michel and the last bike day of the trip!
After 2 nights in Bayeux and a loop ride to the coast and the British and Canadian Normandy beaches on Day 1 of biking, Day 2 took us back to the coast to the American beaches, and then inland.
Some historic estate or other a few miles outside of town:
Passing by the Église Saint-Romain de Étréham, the Church of Saint-Roman.
Originally built in the 11th century, but renovated over time, it still retains its Romanesque west facade.
And 12th-century tower.
Highlight of the day’s ride, at Omaha Beach:
Cool map of the Normandy landings at the cemetery:
Yesterday, we were there:
Today, we are here:
Sobering but serene.
Cool mosaic capturing the cycle of Americans traveling to and fighting in Normandy on the ceiling of the cemetery’s chapel:
Massive mural of the landings and subsequent beachheads:
And a short distance away. . .
the entire European theater (from the non-Soviet POV, anyway):
Both with handy legends.
Onward (and more tanks!).
The Abbey of Saint Vigor, founded in 1032 by Duke of Normandy, Robert the Magnificent (father of William the Bastard, who went on to become William the Conqueror). (Robert the Vigorous would have been much funnier and more apropos.)
In the 12th century, the abbey extended its powers over nearby, former Merovingian abbeys, and also founded several priories, becoming more influential and wealthy in the process.
“In 1337, the dynastic rivalries between the Valois and the kings of England precipitated the country into the Hundred Years War, which plunged the country into misery, aggravated by epidemics of plague. The abbey was fortified and a garrison settled there. In 1418, Richard de Silly, knight and captain of the abbey, was obliged to cede the abbey to the King of England. However, after the victory of the constable de Richemont over the English at Formigny in 1450, Normandy returned definitively to the kingdom of France.” (From here.)
The monks left the abbey during the French Revolution, and the abbey became the unique parish church of the village of Cerisy-la-Forêt in 1790.
The abbey was built on the ruins of an older monastery destroyed by the Normans during their invasion.
Of the French. When the Normans were still Vikings and did not yet benefit from Rollo’s permanent settlement here. . .
Final (and very long) stretch of the day’s ride.
But with a pretty cool conclusion: Chateau de Canisy, our lodging for the evening.
About which we have much to discuss – both the very cool (its history) and the very bizarre (our actual stay).
First, some history. Chateau de Canisy dates to the freakin’ 11th century. Definitely the oldest and most historic place we’ve stayed (just off the top of our head – we did stay in a Welsh castle 2 years earlier, but we think that was built maybe 100 years later (by Normans, as it happens)).
AND there’s a connection to Billy the Conq and the first of the two invasions referenced during our Day 1 post of the trip. In 1066, Hughe de Carbonnel participated in the conquest of England alongside William the Conqueror. At that time, Hugues de Carbonnel already was Lord of Canisy. Of the medieval chateau, one fortified tower and part of the living quarters remain. The family also remains – the current occupants, the Count and Countess Denis de Kergorlay, are direct descendants of Hugues de Carbonnel. The Countess, we would learn, is quite a piece of work.
Most of the Chateau de Canisy’s present architecture dates from the time of Henry IV, when Herve de Carbonnel (1558 – 1625) undertook the construction of a castle to mark his illustrious alliance with Anne de Matignon, daughter of the Count of Thorigny, Marshal of France. In 1588, he commissioned much of the rest of the chateau to be built by architect François Gabriel, (the ancestor of Ange-Jacques Gabriel, one of the architects of the Château de Versailles). A monumental granite staircase was designed by Gabriel, as well as “the addition to the magnificent Cotentin stone of the pudding stone, a purple stone with amethyst reflections, for creating bosses and door and window frames.”
And who wouldn’t want to adorn their chateau with pudding stones?!
In the 20th century, Chateau de Canisy remained a stronghold of the Kergorlay family. From generation to generation, the family has lived in the chateau and has preserved and restored it. Damaged by the fighting during the allied landings in 1944, the chateau was restored with the help of the Historical Monument administration and classified as “Monument Historique” in 1945. Therein ends the cool, historical aspect of our visit.
On to our stay itself. We were the only guests there. The good news? Both couples got massive, luxurious, royal accommodations with tons of character. That was pretty much the only good news. The first bad news was that only a receptionist, manager, and cook were in residence. No bar, no bartender, and no one spoke English. Using Google Translate, we ended up ordering the beers we so desperately needed after the long last leg of the ride. When we stay we ordered the beers, we ordered all of their beers. They had maybe 3/4 of a case? Maybe? We had them bring all of them out, where they were rapidly consumed.
Then the receptionist left, and we were served dinner (in the music room located in a turret, which was cool, although we have notes on the meal itself). After this, the manager announced the second bad news: they were leaving and that we should lock the front door when we went to bed.
We’ll be alone here by ourselves, we asked?
Oui.
So, because nightfall came so late in Normandy in July, our first act of our now-independent stay was to take a walk all around the grounds, which were very nice.
“Is that a pudding stone?”
The chateau’s 16th-century ice house (minus roof and “entrance airlock”), discovered in the 1850s.
Then, we reentered the chateau to explore there. On our own. Alone and unsupervised.
We explored every inch of this place, from the barrel-vaulted basement (no dungeon or torture chamber was evident, but there could always have been a secret door that we missed. . .), to the 1980s era bar (!) and disco, to the unused hallway of standard hotel rooms on the second floor, to the attic space above.
And also the inside of this original tower from the 11th century.
After all of the exploring, and because we had consumed the entire chateau’s supply of booze, we decided to turn in.
As we locked the front door per the creepy – and now absent – manager’s instructions, and resigned ourselves to spending the night in a deserted, 11th-century chateau, we truly and sincerely turned to each other and somberly pronounced “see you tomorrow to whoever makes it through the night here alive.”
Seriously. It was like retiring for the night knowing that you’re in an unsettling horror film where something bad is going to happen. But you don’t know what; or to whom.
But with fewer cobwebs.
The intrepid group of ghost hunters who dared to spend the night alone in a medieval chateau.
There’s a postscript to this adventure: WolfeStreetTravel posted a review a few months later on TripAdvisor, on which we’ve posted many of our stays to that point (we submitted 290 reviews). The review reflected the narrative above, complementing the chateau’s history and architecture but also expressing bewilderment and unease over being left alone there overnight. The countess decided to respond to the review by denying all of this and stating that staff were there during our entire stay. Which, all four of us will contend, was patently untrue.
TripAdvisor apparently lets the hotel – not the guest reviewing the hotel – have the last word, and so we were not provided the opportunity to rebut the blatant fiction peddled by the countess. We were annoyed, but that was that.
Then, when, 3 years later, WolfeStreetTravel FINALLY gets around to posting this experience to our blog, we went to copy the review to simply paste it here only to find that TRIPADVISOR HAS REMOVED OUR REVIEW ENTIRELY.
We’re going to try to confront TripAdvisor about this, but it’ll take some effort to navigate through the turrets and walls they (and every other corporate entity on the web) have erected to delay, deny, or distract an actual person from contacting them. But we’re pretty annoyed, so we’ll give it a shot. If this effort bears fruit, we’ll post a follow up here.
The first trip to Europe, as it happened, where both WolfeStreetTravelers passed through EU immigration using our EU passports:
We had two, segmented goals for this trip:
Explore three towns in France that allegedly were comparable in some ways to our home town, Old Town Alexandria, and were therefore potential home base candidates in Europe
Plus, as an added bonus, a little appendix to the Greek islands jaunt with a leg on the mainland to join the Seattles in checking out epic, millenia-old Orthodox monasteries perched on the clifftops of Meteora in northern Greece.
More South of France Leg
Our ongoing quest to locate a suitable home base in Europe has intensified, now that we also have Irish and German citizenship and can stay / reside in Europe without time restrictions. Home bases we’ve previously considered include Uzes in French Languedoc; Arles in French Provence (home to WolfeStreetTravel’s Gallic fountain avatar); Ronda in Spanish Andalusia; Lucca and Sienna in Italian Tuscany; and Rovinj in Croatian Istria. None of these fit the bill exactly (although Lucca, Ronda, and Rovinj are all high-scoring candidates that we’ll visit again [and already have, in the case of Rovinj]).
After quite a bit of consideration and research with our AI buddies, we targeted the South of France as the best place for us to continue our search – we wanted the southern European / Mediterranean lifestyle, cuisine, and architecture and France was more centrally located than Spain, Italy, or Croatia, the other Mediterranean candidates. We’d visited a couple of times before (for our first European trip [and first bike trip] in 2002, and then the Slow Roll in 2021), so we knew we’d like the area.
In evaluating potential South of France home base candidates for WolfeStreetTravel, we had several criteria (all of which reflected core characteristics of Old Town, Alexandria, the most charming and livable town in the world, as far as we’re concerned):
Medium-sized (we don’t like big cities and prefer more accessible, less intimidating towns that nonetheless offer all of the attractions of their bigger cousins); the population of Alexandria is 160,000 and 12,000 live in Old Town
Restaurant density that “punches above the town’s weight” in the parlance of one of our AI assistants; Old Town Alexandria is densely packed with restaurants due to the proximity to DC and now National Harbor in Maryland, with the associated tourists
Close to a major transportation hub, to enable seamless travel to other European locations (this is also why Spain, Italy, and Croatia were less attractive candidates than France, which is more centrally located for travel to Portugal, Sweden, and Greece, for example, with relatively similar distances); Alexandria is 10 minutes from DCA and 40 minutes to IAD
On a river or lake, providing both atmosphere and water-based activities; Alexandria’s Potomac riverfront plays a major role in our day-to-day at home
Good running paths / routes; we run every day at home, and if we are going to spend extensive time in a European town, we want the same running access, so we don’t fatten up on wine and cheese
Using these criteria, we identified three towns in Provence: Aix-en-Provence, Sommieres, and Vienne. Aix has a reputation as a medium-sized vibrant and charming town very much like Old Town (albeit not on a water body) and both Sommieres and Vienne were located on the Rhone River. After further consideration, we dropped Sommieres from the list as too small, but then added Annency in France’s Savoy region, due to its canals and lakefront location, even though it wasn’t strictly in the Mediterranean cultural belt of the South of France. (We found out about Antibes, Cassis, and Menton on the French coast too late to be included in this evaluation, but Antibes, in particular, is now on our radar for future exploration.)
The final route for the French leg:
We’d fly into Marseille airport, grab a car, and spend 5 days in Aix, 1 day in Vienne (it seemed less and less appealing, the more we looked into it), and 4 days in Annecy.
Aix-en-Provence was exactly as we envisioned, with honeyed limestone facades and an charming centre ville:
But, as the “city of fountains,” we were disappointed – an ongoing drought shut almost all of them down (and they were everywhere):
The big event during our stay was market day on Saturday. Half the town turned into a market place:
The locals were all out stocking up on groceries for the week ahead.
We followed suit. . .
Alfresco dining throughout our stay.
And it wouldn’t be WolfeStreetTravel if there’s not some cool (ideally medieval) history. To wit: The early 6th century Baptistery of Saint-Sauveur Cathedral, built when Aix was transitioning from the Roman world to Christianity – the oldest surviving baptistry in France. Several of the columns are reused from the Roman forum in this location.
And Aperols each evening in a pretty cool AirBnB (the Chief Adventure Officer’s rule of thumb is to book AirBnBs for stays of 5 days or more and also every 10-14 days of hotels for laundry).
After those 5 days, it was time to move north; Aix was beautiful but, we decided, very much one note. We’re glad we visited, but this wasn’t the home base for us.
Vienne, just south of Lyon on the Rhone, offered the next potential home base location. According to our AI buddies, Claude and Chatty G, Vienne’s river utilization included a promenade along the Rhone. This was a lie. It did not.
It did have some pretty awesome Roman artifacts, dating to Vienne’s time as an extraordinarily wealthy Roman trading city. This includes the 1st century BC Roman temple dedicated to Emperor Augustus and his wife Livia, right in the middle of town:
And the town’s massive Roman theater, built into a rocky hillside just above town in the 1st century AD:
And, finally (there’s a bunch more, but this is a trip overview post), the 2nd – 3rd century AD Pyramide de Vienne, right next to our hotel. It’s actually the surviving central monument of the spina – the long central barrier – of Vienne’s enormous Roman circus for chariot races:
The hotel’s restaurant served as our only Michelin-starred dinner of the trip.
Meh. Good not great. Our anniversary dinner on Ios later in the trip was much better (as was our first, great, fish dinner on Naxos).
With the Vienne box checked, we roamed northwest to Annecy, which is decidedly NOT the South of France or Mediterranean in lifestyle, culture, cuisine, or architecture. It’s in the Savoy, just 20 minutes away from Geneva. But we kept seeing this place in our Instagram feeds, evaluated it thoroughly as a candidate, and thought highly enough of its potential that it bumped out Sommieres and consumed a day of Vienne time from our draft itinerary.
Good call. This place was awesome. Canals in the city (Annecy is the “Venice of the Alps”) and Lake Annecy just beyond.
12th-century Palais de I’lle in the middle of Annecy’s main canal leading to the river (behind us):
Annecy’s old town is full of 17th- and 18th-century structures and definitely punches above its weight in restaurants (and wine bars, as we’d learn):
During our stay, we’d swim in the lake, drive around it to another small village, and, the pièce de résistance (literally “piece of resistance” per Dave Barry), biking the 25-mile loop around the lake.
Little side trip to Chateau de Menthon-Saint-Bernard after lunch in the charming village of Talloirs.
And for lunch on the one rainy day during our trip, fondue – a Savoyard specialty.
Annecy was amazing. The town hit ALMOST all of the European home base criteria we had established, based on Old Town, Alexandria. Although it fell short in proximity to a travel hub (we did get a nonstop from Lyon to Athens for our next leg, but the Lyon airport cannot be considered a real travel hub, and Geneva’s is not in the EU). It also exuded Savoyard character, not Mediterranean. But Annecy is a four-season town with hiking skiing in the French Alps (Chamonix is about 75 minutes away), complementing its lakeside charm as a summer getaway. So we’ll be back.
More Greek Cyclades Leg
The second WolfeStreetTraveler had planned to retire in August 2022, immediately after which we would travel to Turkey and four Greek Cyclades islands – Paros, Naxos, Folegandros, and Milos. Supercomputing issues related to the worst high-performance computing vendor in the world scuttled this plan, and retirement was postponed to ensure the issues were resolved. The Turkey & Greece trip of 2022 contracted to include just one Cyclades island: Paros. (Which was amazing – still our favorite island.)
To the missing islands of Naxos, Folegandros, and Milos, we added little Ios to our itinerary, simply because it was there:
We would spend 5 days on Naxos, then 3 days on Ios, 3 days on Folegandros, and 4 days on Milos (all determined sort of based on their size). We’d connect from Lyon to Naxos through Athens, then fast ferry from Naxos to Ios to Folegandros to Milos, then fly back to Athens for a bonus leg, renting cars at each stop.
The monumental Portara of Naxos, the start of what was to be a massive temple to Apollo begun in 530 BC. They didn’t get too far, but this baby has been standing for the 2500 years since.
Probably the best single fish dining experience of the trip at Sarris in the middle of Naxos Town.
Sea bass, before and after.
Naxos beaches in the low season were outstanding – water’s still warm, but the crows have abated.
Just as on Paros, some great restaurants right behind the beach for a pretty nice break in the day.
We drove into the middle of the island and up into the mountains to visit the villages of Filoti and Apeiranthos.
Which offered pretty atmospheric doorways.
Pretty OSHA non-compliant doorways.
A 5-day stay meant another AirBnB. Pretty good digs.
Our next stop was Ios, where we spent time immediately after our arrival to stroll around the island’s main town of Chora.
And later celebrated our 28th anniversary on Ios.
Our place had spectacular sunsets every night, elevating aperitivos hour.
Another Greek island, another beach.
Some pretty good fish at a Greek / Japanese fusion place on said beach.
And, since we were reading The Odysseus on this leg of the trip (it was a slog), we visited the purported tomb of Homer (which does not address the dominant theory that he was, in fact, multiple poets conveying the story through oral histories, but a millenia-old island tradition is a millenia-old island tradition, after all).
The tomb was an unmarked pile of rocks. Pretty underwhelming.
But there’s a pretty good view getting there:
Anniversary abode.
Ios was small, but Folegandros even smaller. It’s main town (also Chora – Folegandros is so small it can’t afford to buy a unique name for its main town; it had to borrow Ios’) is dominated by the Church of Panagia, accessed by a serpentine path up a mountain:
From which there is ALSO a pretty good view:
Chora’s Kastro, a remarkably preserved medieval fortified quarter built under Venetian rule to shelter Folegandros from pirates. Many of the town’s residents still live within its walls.
Folegandros had a sort of saddle across the middle of the island, where you could see both sides, so we hiked this one day. Pretty cool.
And also hiked to Agios Nikolaus beach from the larger Agkali beach one day; the island’s mayor wants to discourage tourism build up, and so prohibits organized beach businesses (read: sunbeds and drink orders), so everything’s pretty rustic.
Although lunch in Akgali over that beach was pretty picture perfect.
Also pretty good digs on Folegandros:
Thence to our final island of Milos, where we stayed in the harbor town of Pollonia (which was composed almost entirely of restaurants that formed an arc around most of the harbor.
Our first full day, we hightailed it over to Sarakiniko Beach, home to the limestone cliffs and rocks that create a dramatic shoreline against the Aegean blue.
Cliff diving turned out to be pretty good there.
We hiked up to the castra on top of Milos’ main town of Plaka.
Where we met Cena, a charming solo traveler from North Macedonia (by way of Toronto), waiting at the bottom of the steps for someone to accompany her. Very nice experience!
Cool ass boat trip the next day to Milos’ Kleftiko cliffs.
Where more diving and swimming ensued.
The picturesque fishing villages-cum-guest house community of Klima.
More good digs in Pollonia, where we laid low on our final day, and dove and swam off the rocks into the deep water right outside our place; pretty good setup.
Last evening on Milos.
And then linking up with the Seattles, who were just starting their Greek sailing trip with a leg in northern Greece to visit the clifftop monasteries of Meteora. This was not part of our original itinerary, but we realized that we’d have an overlap, and coordinated to overlap together.
A pretty great addition to the trip. We had not even heard of Meteora before, so the Seattles were adding value all over the place.
The monasteries began in the 14th century when Orthodox monks seeking solitude and protection from political turmoil established hermitages atop the region’s towering sandstone pillars.
We took a bike tour that lasted the entire first full day in the area, and were able to visit four monasteries.
Although we had not heard of Meteora before, we were familiar with one of the monastery’s roles in James Bond’s For Your Eyes Only. . .
The interior of an ancient Greek Orthodox church atop the nearby town of Kalabata, which was built (as so many were) atop a Roman temple to Apollo, and incorporates (as so many did) physical elements of the temple into the Christian church.
Wine tasting the next day 90 minutes north at the Monastery of Agios Nikolaos, where the monks have been making wine for centuries.
After 3 days, the Seattles continued on to Paros and the start of their sailing excursion, while the Old Towns spent an evening in Athens, and checked out the Acropolis museum there. It did not disappoint.
After 4 weeks, 3 legs, and 9 stops, we headed back home to prepare for our next outing. . . farther afield this time.
As noted on the home (“Map“) page of WolfeStreetTravel, international trips are punctuated by brief forays much closer to home: specifically, a quartet of towns and inns within a 2-hour drive of the actual Wolfe Street that we’ve been returning to for more than 20 years.
Three are located south and west of us in Virginia, but one is located east of us across the Bay Bridge on Maryland’s Eastern Shore: the Inn at Perry Cabin in St. Michaels. This was our destination at the end of July (a notable annual milestone for one of the WolfeStreetTravelers). We typically visit these locations as a joyful getaway from Alexandria, but ended up visiting both St. Michaels and Orange, VA – home of the Inn at Willow Grove – in 2020 because we simply had nowhere else to go during the first summer of COVID.
Other than rain one evening, pretty great weather in Maryland.
And the obligatory reptile pic due to the still-not-abandoned herpetologist aspirations of one of the WolfeStreetTravelers; here, a fine example of a blue-tailed skink.
The old Tilghman Island bridge (retired in 1998) on display next door at St. Michaels’ Maritime Museum. It looks odd because it’s one of the few examples of a heel trunnion rolling lift bascule bridge in the US (or anywhere):
Unlike many drawbridges that rotate about a fixed pivot, the bridge’s span both rotates and rolls backward on a curved track as it opens.
Its most recognizable feature is the large overhead counterweight, suspended above the roadway. This made it Maryland’s only overhead-counterweight bascule bridge.
Because it crossed the busy Knapps Narrows channel separating Tilghman Island (just down the road from St. Michaels) to Maryland’s mainland, it opened roughly 12,000 times per year, making it one of the busiest movable bridges on the East Coast.
A WolfeStreetTravel tradition: feast on the water at The Crab Claw. Great crabs, as always (although a few were pretty small for “Large” crabs).
Sunset cocktails at the inn:
Another tradition: spicy Bloody Marys at The Galley.
And a fine local IPA.
Day trip for the first time to Easton, MD, right down the road.
Because one of us is a newly minted Irish citizen, we have the right to claim that there’s absolutely no way that there’s enough Irish recipes to fill this cookbook found at a local shop. Unless maybe each page is a different way to cook potatoes. . .
On a tree-lined avenue flanked by 19th-century mansions, an advertisement found multiple times embedded in stretches of sidewalk that did not, in fact, feature coffins.
The aforementioned rain. Luckily, this was the night we stayed in to eat.
Last evening in St. Michaels, featuring not only an amazing sky, but the rabbit that keeps the lawn mowed.
Our second trip this year turned out to be domestic – no new countries this time. Instead, we headed to Seattle and points north in Washington for our niece Gracie’s graduation and then to the American Southwest to hike and experience some iconic national parks – a longtime goal. Our original itinerary included the following:
Pacific Northwest for 6 days:
2 days in Seattle
3 days in Bellingham
Travel day from Bellingham to overnight stay in Las Vegas to pick up a car
American Southwest for 10 days:
Zion for 4 days
Bryce for 3 days
Lake Powell for 3 days
Travel day from Lake Powell (Page, AZ) to overnight stay in Las Vegas then fly home
But discussions with relatives in Tucson convinced us to nix the Lake Powell leg due to extreme temperatures. Then, during our stay in the Bellingham area, discussions with the Bostons and Seattles convinced us to add Page, AZ, back for a day so we could visit Lower Antelope Canyon. So, we lopped off a day in Zion and added a day in Page for the second stage of the trip:
American Southwest for 7 days:
Zion for 3 days
Antelope Canyon for 1 day
Bryce for 3 days
Trip is off to a good start! On arrival at SEATAC, we were picked up by the CEO of Crooked Spoon in his tricked out ice cream truck:
A little lawn bowling that evening – very cool. Played with oblong balls that arced when you rolled them, so it was like putting on a green with a rise on it.
The Extraordinary Creatures exhibit in Seattle, featuring real organisms and their real colors. A cool convergence of nature and art.
Brew pub group lunch after in Seattle:
Then a sail to Bainbridge Island on Tim and Anne’s boat:
The next day, a drive up to Bellingham for the graduation, with a stop at Taylor Shellfish Farms for a buttload of oysters and ceviche.
Hike up to Oyster Dome:
The graduation itself:
A final lunch in Bow Edison before we head to Vegas for the start of the second stage of the trip and the Bostons head home:
First ~hiking stop on the way from Vegas to Zion – Petrified Sand Dunes at St. George, a recommendation by the Seattles, who have St. George Frequent Flier status:
Very cool first taste of American Southwest landscape:
After arriving at Zion and chilling at our place for a bit in the late afternoon, we headed out to the first ~hike (~ aren’t really hikes – they’re more like decent walks), Canyon Overlook near sunset (but not too near, inasmuch as the Zion restaurants all close at 9 and we didn’t want to starve). The Grand Arch:
The next morning, we eBiked to the first of our real Zion hikes – Scout’s Lookout and Western Rim trail:
A view of Angel’s Landing, which we did not do:
The second hike (and best of the entire trip); 11-mile out-and-back trek / wade through The Narrows:
Weather in Zion reached >90 degrees, so we ensured that we booked a place with a pool; the iconic view behind it was an unexpected added bonus:
And the place came with resident wildlife for morning coffee entertainment:
Then, a drive southeastward to Page, AZ, and a Navajo tour of Lower Antelope Canyon:
Pretty amazing and a good last-minute addition to the trip.
But then we had to drive back northwestward to our next park destination: Bryce Canyon, featuring its iconic hoodoos eroded rock formations:
And crazy, isolated, unbelievably tall Douglass Firs, growing where no tree should be:
Our highlight there was an 8-mile loop hike from Fairlyland Point, with a 7:00 AM start to secure one of the very few parking spaces at the trailhead:
The next day, we intended to head to a very cool slot canyon outside of the park that seemed to offer an appealing combination of the grandeur of The Narrows at Zion with the sculpted walls of Lower Antelope Canyon. But the dirt road to reach the trailhead included an uphill sandy portion that our rental could not pass, despite repeated attempts. So, we headed instead to Utah’s Kodachrome Basin State Park:
Awesome hand sculptures into the sandstone that we were hoping were Indian and centuries old. Nope. A range we later consulted said that they were from bored ranchers and settlers in the 19th century. Still pretty wild.
The spires of Kodachrome Basin, a park presumably established by the Society of Geologists Who Keep Elbowing Each Other and Giggling Like 9-Year-Olds:
Pretty good digs in Tropic, a town near Bryce Canyon:
From Bryce, we headed back to Las Vegas for a night (and a show), then headed home. More on each leg later, but we first need to posts the remaining stops on the 2023 Prolonged Foray to Europe.
After cooling our heels at home for the first several months of the year due to the actual Wolfe Street events noted here, we were able to get away sooner than we anticipated thanks to the crew completing the construction milestone that was putting our lateral line at risk.
So, where to go in April? Despite its proximity to DCA, we had never visited the Bahamas, so this was a candidate; as were Monserrat, St. Eustatius, Saba, Dominica, Guadeloupe, Martinique, Mustique, Bequia, and a few other Caribbean islands that WolfeStreetTravel has yet to visit (we’ll get to them all in good time). But which one now? We’ve never viewed Bahamas positively, probably due to Nassau and that unappealing stationary cruise ship of a resort, Atlantis, so this wasn’t necessarily the top of our list. But we didn’t want complicated travel logistics, which all of the others would entail, and we had been eying Kamalame Cay off Andros Island in the Bahamas for probably five Christmases in a row now. They had availability (and a 5th night free for a stay of 4 nights), and getting there entailed a civilized 10:15 flight from DCA direct to Nassau followed by a 10-minute puddle jump to Andros Island (plus a 20-minute drive to their dock). So, we booked.
Nothing compares to our puddle jump experience to and from St. Bart’s second-shortest-runway in the Caribbean (good thing we didn’t go to Saba this time – that island holds the record for the shortest), but pretty cool and super casual experience. (That’s someone’s Starlink dish just sitting there in the aisle behind the cockpit.)
The bustling Andros Town international airport – country 82 for WolfeStreetTravel!
And an on-time arrival at our destination. Kamalame Cay is both a cay off Andros and a self-contained resort.
Where you’re issued a golf cart upon check in, and you drive this sandy path to and from your cottage to the main house complex, where the pool and two bars and restaurants are located.
Pretty good situation at our North Beach Cottage.
One of our cottage’s resident curly tail lizards (travel without reporting on reptiles would be anathema to WolfeStreetTravel’s core tenets):
Super early dinner our first night, since we didn’t have any breakfast (as a matter of routine) or lunch (because we were on or between flights and had no opportunity). The pork belly bites with hoisin sauce and basil became an almost-every-night staple during our stay.
The cay’s overwater spa, indulged in on one of the WolfeStreetTraveler’s birthday.
Beach by the great house, which was nice, but the one just down the steps from our cottage was just as pleasant.
The weather was perfect – clear skies, upper 70s / lower 80s. BUT, we had to contend with wind 24/7 during our entire stay:
Each cottage had its own little palapa, which was pretty great.
As was the pool.
Whole fried snapper. Great in concept (who doesn’t like a whole fish?), but their technique to pull the fillets out and batter and fry the backs unfortunately ruined it. Still fun to look at though?
Little drive back to our place – the sound / strait, such as it is, is on the right, and all of the properties and the beach are on the left:
Pretty great cottage situation – every property on the place is right on the beach.
Sunset our last night:
Early morning ride across the sound / strait to Andros to catch the 7:30 flight (with a ridiculous layover for our noon flight home).
Another puddle jumper, another cockpit view:
Nothing to be alarmed about here:
Other than an engine fire?
Hopefully more posts on Sicily soon, but you never know.
In an unusual move for us, we have now spent two consecutive Christmases in the same country. Shocking! Last year, we visited San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. This year, we returned to Mexico (albeit to a different region).
Mandarina is a new, Pacific-coast development an hour northwest of Puerto Vallarta, very similar in concept to Mayakoba on the Riviera Maya an hour(ish) south of Cancun.
Coincidentally, we also stayed at the same hotel collection in Mandarina as we did in Mayakoba (and San Miguel). Definitely did not disappoint.
And with us, as always, were the traveling Christmas stockings, which have accompanied us on almost every Christmas trip for the past 25 years, from London, to Latvia, to Laos (they were left behind for our Christmas on safari due to the duffel bag limitation). Lisa made the stockings for our first Christmas on Wolfe Street when we moved there in 2000 and, because we have traveled abroad each Christmas since that time, they’ve become world travelers in their own right. (One year I’ll remember to take pictures of the stockings when they’re full. . .)
During breakfast our first morning, we spotted a pod of gray whales cruising by right off the beach.
W spotted another pod from our terrace later in the same day. Pretty cool, especially considering that we took a whale watching tour out of Bar Harbor last year, and saw none. Now, unexpectedly, they were everywhere.
Sunset stockings.
Santa!
Pretty cool Peruvian / Japanese / Mexican fusion at one of the restaurants, and a rather decent bar, to boot.
Perfect freakin’ weather the entire time, which was welcome.
Oh, and Roy Kent! “He’s here, he’s there, he’s everyfucking where! Roy Kent!”
And, as always, a little wildlife to delight one of the travelers (but only one of us, to be sure).
We spent one afternoon at the nearby polo field for our first polo game.
Just an exhibition match, but it didn’t disappoint. They were pretty good.
Fortuitous cervesa choice.
Pretty short stay of just 5 days, but definitely worth it.
“WASHINGTON—A report released Wednesday by the United Nations revealed that the U.S. continues to lead the world with the highest per capita density of Kevins of any nation. ‘Ranked against the rest of the international community, the United States is far and away the global leader in Kevins, with upwards of 27 Kevins per square mile in most major American urban centers,’ said lead researcher Gilbert Dujarric, who added that when factoring in the nation’s Kevs, the density figure nearly doubles. ‘There are certainly areas of Australia, the U.K., and Canada where the concentration of Kevins is high, but they all fall well short of the United States’ Kevin population across all demographics. And when we look at the benchmark Kevin-to-John ratio, no country comes even remotely close to the staggering .205 figure the U.S. posted in 2013.’ The report’s authors noted with surprise, however, that the United States had surpassed Denmark and risen to second place in Jürgen density.”
