Last Day in St Malo

Last night we walked next door to the Cathedral of St Vincent for an organ recital by Nicholas Bucher, playing Bach and Mendelssohn. We enjoyed the music, and the clever idea of filming his performance, so we could watch him playing both hands on four keyboards and both feet on the pedals on a big screen at the front of the church..

His played on the Grand Organ donated after the war to replace the one destroyed, along with much of the church, in the bitter fighting of August 1944. Looking around this ancient church (the oldest remaining statue of the Blessed Virgin dates back to the 1500’s) - you can see where the fabric of the old church has been skilfully integrated with new stained glass windows, and modern construction materials, to bring this building back to life. A plaque in the floor marks the spot where Jacques Cartier was blessed by the bishop of St Malo on 16 May 1538 on his departure for the voyage which would make him the first European to discover Canada. Naval hero Reré de Duguay-Trouin is buried in a side chapel, and the bell peals out the hours as it has for hundreds of years (these days until 10pm).

Another reason we came to St Malo was the Netflix Series All The Light We Cannot See, based on the novel by Anthony Doerr. St Malo had the misfortune to be declared a fortress in the Atlantic Wall by Hitler. Its defence was commanded by an officer so fanatical, that even his own soldiers called him “The Mad Colonel”. To make matters worse, the Allies completely underestimated the number of German troops in the garrison. They thought there were 4000-6000 Germans in the area: the actual number was 12,000. Most of the townspeople had left the city when the devastating attack began. At the end of the fighting, when the commander finally surrendered, 80% of the city was destroyed. It took two years to clear the rubble. Reconstruction began in 1946 and was completed in 1960. The final touch was installing a new spire on the cathedral in 1971. By the early 1960’s the town was a popular holiday destination again. Now the streets are thronged with families (and their dogs of all sizes.),

St Malo even has dogs on its coat of arms - city walls on the top, an ermine (a North American stoat in its white winter coat,, valued by kings and the House of Lords as a luxury trim), a portcullis signifying there was no way in, and on either side a fierce mastiff (war dogs) with spiked collars. A pack of these fearsome beasts was let loose at curfew time each evening, to make sure nobody roamed the streets. They certainly look pretty mean on this manhole cove!

The weather was brilliant this morning. We ambled around the town soaking up the sunshine and the atmosphere (and a large ice-cream). This afternoon we took a one-and-a-half hour ferry ride around St Malo Bay. We passed the 1988 replica of Robert Surcouf’s last ship Le Renard (The Fox), launched in 1812. These ships were small, heavily armed for their size, crammed with tough sailors, and very fast. Under a daring captain they overwhelmed merchant ships and could hold their own against regular naval vessels - or at least trick their way out of trouble, and use their speed to escape.

The boat trip took us past the Solidor Tower at Dinard (the city on the other side of the Rance river, past the Vauban fort on Le Petit Bé, and the island of Cézembre, now bare rock, where the Germans finally surrendered, and out past the threatening Vauban Fort de la Conchée. Seen from the sea, it’s obvious why St Malo was an impossible nut to crack. It is a massive granite fortification, set in a deep bay littered with granite rocks and reefs, with forts sitting on islets of any size, with tricky channels, and a 13 metre tidal range. On a day like this it is stunningly beautiful, with sailing boats and launches everywhere, enjoying the glorious weather.

We have really enjoyed our time here - so much to see, in a setting unlike any other place we have been.Read more